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Hawk’s raised hand froze in mid-air.
The door opened. Betty Ross, wearing a simple housecoat, looked at him with a calm expression, then opened the door wider and stepped aside.
"Please, come in."
It was as if she had been expecting him.
Hawk lowered his hand. He looked at the woman before him—a woman who showed no fear of death, only a quiet resignation—and let out a short laugh. He stepped inside.
The door closed behin ...
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