?Chapter 1291:


    He might rebel for a woman, sure. But kill the man who gave him a second chance at life? Never.


    Terrence turned the pistol around, offering the grip to Waylon while the barrel rested against his own chest.


    “Grandfather,” he said quietly, holding the gun out with both hands. “If it’s got to be one of us… let it be me instead of her.”


    His life had been saved by Waylon. Now, he…


    would give it back. He only wished that once he was gone, Waylon might feel even a trace of guilt and spare Christina’s life.


    “You’re really willing to die for that woman?” Waylon bellowed, his voice breaking as another violent cough shook his chest.


    Terrence’s face hardened. “Grandfather, I’m begging you, just spare her. For all the years I’ve done everything you asked of me. I killed whoever you told me to, without a second thought. But she’s different. I love her. She means more to me than my own life. I’ve never asked you for anything before, not once. This is the first andst favor I’ll ever beg of you. Aside from this, I’ve never gone against you. So… just kill me!”


    Terrence shut his eyes, epting his fate. He waited silently for the bullet that would end it all.


    If his death meant Christina could live, then to him, it was a fair trade. It was worth every drop of blood.


    Waylon stared at the silenced gun Terrence held out to him. His eyes carried a storm of emotions: anger, pain, and heartbreak. He hated that Terrence had defied him for a woman. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.


    In that sharp, calcting gaze, a flicker of pain surfaced, faint but real.


    Terrence might not have been his blood, but he was still the boy he had raised with his own two hands.


    After a long silence, Waylon finally spoke. “I can let her go. But you’ll have to kill Dn and his sister, fast. And find King. My face… it’s ruined, but King’s the only one who can cure what’s killing me. I’ve suffered long enough,” he rasped, coughing harshly. “I don’t want to spend what little life I’ve got left rotting in pain.”


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    Terrence’s eyes snapped open, and a bright, disbelieving smile spread across his face. His eyes shimmered like cut ss, burning with renewed hope.


    “Really? You mean it, Grandfather?” Terrence asked, hope flooding his voice. “If I do what you ask… if I kill the Scott siblings and find King, you’ll never go after Christina again? You’ll leave her out of thispletely?”


    Terrence had to double-check. He needed to be sure Waylon wouldn’t try to go after Christina again.


    “Yes,” Waylon replied, his scarred face tightening with a serious look.


    But behind that seriousness, there was a coldness that sent a chill down Terrence’s spine.


    King was like a ghost, impossible to track. Terrence knew finding him would be harder than flying to the moon.


    When he saw that grave expression, Terrence quietly let out a breath of relief.


    If Waylon gave his word, Terrence believed he wouldn’t go behind his back to hurt Christina.


    “Don’t worry, Grandfather. I won’t disappoint you,” Terrence said, his eyes shing with a sharp, deadly promise.


    He saw himself as a weapon—Waylon’s weapon. And if Christina was safe, he’d take out anyone else without hesitation.


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