Chapter 162

Christina's POV "Square your shoulders. Widen your stance. Don't lock your elbows," the firearms instructor barked. I gritted my teeth, adjusting my grip on the Glock 19. The weight felt foreign in my hands, nothing like the delicate jewelry tools I was accustomed to. "Focus on your breathing, Mrs. Laurent. Inhale, aim, exhale, squeeze." The gun kicked back harder than I expected, the report echoing painfully in my ears despite the protective headphones. My shot landed nowhere near the target's center. Hudson stood at the back of the range, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. This was the fifth day of my "essential training"—his non-negotiable condition before allowing me to return to work. Five days of sore muscles, ringing ears, and bruised pride. "Again," the instructor commanded. I raised the gun, picturing Beatrice's smug face on the paper target. My next shot hit much closer to the bullseye. "Better," Hudson said approvingly. By the end of the session, my certificate was sig