Chapter 2 · free to read
He didn't run. Twelve years of stamping the truth had left him with nowhere left to run to.
The Evening Current. A dying paper with nothing left to lose — the only kind brave enough to print this.
They came for the original land deed. So had he.
One honest stamp had become a wire report, a witness, a cop who remembered where he came from. But dawn was ten minutes away — and the ghost fleet had already started its engines.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.