The Wistful Atlas
The seal gun clicked, a dry, violent sound that echoed off the concrete walls of the interrogation room. Elias Thorne’s hand trembled, not from fear, but from the sudden, crushing weight of the silence that followed. He had been holding the lever for three seconds, long enough to know the mechanism was jammed, long enough to feel the recoil that never came. Across the table, the smuggler, a man...
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