The Golden Ritual
The gold pocket watch lay on the steel table, its casing catching the fluorescent hum of the intake room, and Elias Thorne’s fingers hovered above it, trembling not from cold but from the sheer, sterile weight of the seizure. He was forty-five, a border patrol agent with twenty-two years of service logged in a ledger that now treated him as a suspect, and the object before him was the only...
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