Chapter 12 · free to read
Sixteen names on four. Silas got one of them out. Nobody had ever written down which one.
The bureau hired her at nineteen. I signed the paperwork myself and never once asked where she had come from.
She left me the last thing she wanted read: twenty folders nose to tail, aimed like an arrow at the records annex four blocks north, where nineteen years of Meridian's fire dead are shelved.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.