PREVIEW

... garettes.

A single oil lamp flickered.

The military police had repurposed an old storage building for the interrogation, its thick brick walls ensuring that whatever happened inside would not be overheard.

Captain Henri Vaillan sat in the center, wrists bound to the chair, his face pale but composed.

His uniform was slightly disheveled from the chase, his breath still uneven.

Yet, despite his predicament, he was calm.

Too calm.

Lieutenant J ...

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