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desperation. She needed a pilot.
I looked at the helicopter. I felt a pull in my chest I hadn’t felt since the accident that retired me. Since the shrapnel. Since the funeral.
“You’re serious?” I asked.
“Dead serious,” she smirked. “But try not to crash it. It costs more than your life.”
I dropped my rag into the bucket. Plop.
I wiped my hands on my gray continue reading …
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