The Pale Protocol
"Mr. Halloway, please understand, I did not take it for profit, only to keep my brother alive." I wrote that sentence three times before the ink dried. The pen felt heavy in my hand, a weight that matched the tin of wages I kept in my apron pocket. It was the sort of weight that settles into the bones when the work is too long and the pay too short. I am Veronica Zamudio, junior clerk at the...
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