?Chapter 371:


    And besides, she didn’t have it in her.


    Last time, she’d been forced to approach Kristian and try to tear his marriage apart. That alone had wrecked her conscience.


    But she’d done it to protect her family. She hadn’t had a choice.


    This time was different. It felt like she was sacrificing someone else’s life to save her own family’s. If she did it, her family would never forgive her—and neither would she.


    “Well?” the man asked, lifting an eyebrow when she stayed silent.


    Ashley’s voice came out steady, even though her body trembled. “I won’t do it.”


    “Is that right?” He didn’t sound angry—just amused. “Then maybe I’ll pay your brother and grandmother a visit. I wonder how they’ll feel, knowing you yed the mistress and tore another family apart.”


    “Don’t you dare!” Ashley hissed.


    “Up to you,” the man said, straightening to his full height.


    As he walked away, he added over his shoulder, “Three days. That’s all you get. Obey, or stick to your conscience.”


    And with that, he left her there—shackled, shattered, and once again swallowed by the suffocating shadows of that basement.


    The next morning dawned over Alerith.


    Freya had already washed and dried the clothes she’d worn the day before.


    Freshly dressed and ready to go, she sat in the living room, waiting for Kristian.


    Half an hourter, the two of them shared breakfast and then headed out together.


    Their destination was a legitimate gun club nestled in the heart of the city, one that required both a membership and a referral letter for entry.


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    Kristian had, of course, already taken care of all the formalities.


    It took them an hour to reach the club.


    Kristian, well-acquainted with the manager, was greeted with a warm, familiar smile. “It’s been quite some time since west crossed paths, Kristian.”


    “It has been a while,” Kristian replied, falling naturally into conversation.


    “And who might this be?” the manager asked, his eyes drifting curiously toward Freya.


    Kristian’s expression shifted, his eyes dimming slightly as he began,


    “Just a friend.”


    “Freya Biggs,” Freya cut in, introducing herself with aposed smile.


    Something in her gut told her that if she didn’t interrupt, Kristian would’ve said something she wasn’t ready to hear.


    Kristian nced her way; that had indeed been his intention—to introduce her as his wife.


    “This way, please,” the manager said with a knowing glint in his eyes before gesturing them forward. “A professional will be along shortly to teach you how to shoot. Follow me.”


    They walked in silence down the corridor that led to the shooting range.


    Freya and Kristian were each assigned their own professional instructor.


    The manager, Mack Russell, happened to be Damon Russell’s cousin. Observing Freya’s focused demeanor, he leaned toward Kristian and muttered,


    “You and Ms. Briggs—there’s no way you’re just friends, is there?”


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