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The black helicopter climbed higher, and the silhouette of the Long Island estate slowly faded from Lucia's view.
But her sharp eyes could still make out the figure standing on the rooftop helipad, waving his arms uselessly in her direction—Vincent.
Her old friend and most trusted second-in-command, Marco, sat beside her and patted her shoulder.
"You two didn't even get a proper goodbye. Seven years of history... are you sure you can just let it go like this?"
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