He was going to bring his father back to life, no matter what it cost him.
Nathan insisted on taking his father somewhere warm, but Elias shook his head, his eyes fixed on a path leading toward the industrial outskirts of the city.
“I have something you need to see, Nathan,” he whispered, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering across pavement.
Nathan signaled his driver, Mr. Peterson, to follow them from a distance in the black sedan, but he stayed on foot, walking beside the man who looked more like a collection of shadows than a human being.
They walked past peeling paint and deep potholes until they reached a tiny shack near the river. The roof was made of rusty tin with visible holes, and the door was nothing more than a piece of heavy stained cloth that stirred in the wind.
Inside, the air smelled of damp wood and old, dus
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