?Chapter 1307:


    Then the interrogator leaned in, his voice low and sly. “If you want to save that hostage, I will give you a chance.”


    Her breath hitched, her heart pounding. A chance? She stared into his eyes, searching for truth, her thoughts a tangled storm.


    “Pick one of your teammates to die,” he said, his words sharp as a de.


    Themand jolted her back to rity.


    Her mind steadied, the pieces clicking into ce.


    “What do you say?” the interrogator pressed.


    “Is this the second evaluation?” she asked, her voice calm. In that instant, rity surged through her like a jolt. Her mind, no longer clouded, began stitching the fragments together.


    From the beginning, the n had unfolded with unnerving precision—wless in execution, almost too perfect to question.


    Yet something did not sit right. If these people were truly the cutthroat criminals they pretended to be—desperate, dangerous, cornered—why waste time on theatrics?


    By now, they should have vanished into the wind, dragging the hostage with them, leaving only blood and smoke in their wake.


    Instead, they lingered. Each second they hesitated only narrowed their window of escape, especially with elite reinforcements likely converging already. She had voiced the question—carefully, clearly—watching for a flinch, anything.


    And there it was. Just a flicker. The interrogator paused, his eyes sharpening for the briefest instant before slipping back behind the veil of indifference. But Freya saw through the charade. She eased back, letting the truth settle over her.


    Eventually, he could not keep up the pretense.


    Loosening her ropes, he crossed his arms, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “How did you know?” he asked. “The captain and the others nned this for weeks.”


    Freya shrugged, her lips twitching. “Just a guess.”<fn3c8c> The rightful source is FιndＮovel</fn3c8c>


    His jaw ckened. “A guess?” The word was a curse in their world, a reckless gamble.


    Every story starts at g ? ln σ ν?? ??s,


    He started to speak, but the door creaked open. A man stepped inside, inclothed, hair mussed, blending into the shadows like he belonged there. Michael’s earlier words about the “hostage” echoed in Freya’s mind. This was him.


    He approached, his steps measured, and repeated the interrogator’s question.


    “When did you figure it out?”


    Freya caught the interrogator’s subtle flinch, the way his posture shifted.


    This man was no ordinary “hostage”.


    “When he offered me a chance,” she said, her voice steady.


    He fired more questions, each one probing deeper.


    She answered without faltering, her mind racing to connect the dots.


    Atst, he nodded. “You have passed the second evaluation.”


    The truth sank in. The test was not about saving the hostage or staying strong.


    It was about seeing the lie for what it was.


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