The Pale Echo
Act I Ray Fenwick’s boots slipped on the wet slate, his body twisting in the rain-slicked alley behind the whaling store as two men from the pier lunged forward. He clutched the stolen ledger to his chest, the paper slick with sweat and salt spray, knowing the weight of it would break his back if he let go. The foreman’s henchmen had fists raised, knuckles white, the smell of cheap tobacco and...
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