Chapter 321: Victory or Defeat Astrid's POV

As we neared the dungeon, the cold air wrapped around me like a warning, and my steps faltered.

The weight of what I was about to do settled heavily in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I was nervous - no, I was scared. Giselle was down there, the woman who had torn our lives apart, and I had to face her alone.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly felt warm air fanning the side of my face. I blinked and turned, only to find Killian standing so close, his face inches from mine.

His breath was warm on my skin, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of us.

My heart skipped a beat. The closeness, the way he was looking at me—it made me forget, just for a second, about the darkness waiting ahead.

"Astrid," he whispered, his voice soft and full of concern. "Are you sure about this?"

His eyes searched mine, his brow furrowed with worry, and for a brief moment, I wanted to say no.

I wanted to lean into him, let him shield me from everything. He always had a way of making me feel safe.

"I can come with you," he added gently, his fingers brushing against mine, sending a spark of warmth through me.

For a moment, I hesitated. His presence was comforting, but I knew I needed to do this alone.

I needed to face Giselle on my own terms, even if part of me was terrified of what I might find.

I shook my head, offering a small smile. "No," I said softly, trying to steady my voice. "I need to do this by myself."

on mine, as if he wanted

a promise in his touch. "I'll be right here," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "If you need

were all I needed to find the courage. With one last look into his eyes, I turned toward the dungeon

the warmth of him, the safety his presence gave

as I walked into the

the last time I saw Giselle, the last time her poison would

the heavy iron door, its hinges creaking as

and I froze. The woman

graceful figure who had always held her head high now sat slumped

smatted, her dress torn

Her hair was

stained with dirt. She looked like someone

all the grandeur stripped away,

person she

twisted smirk played on her lips,

still believed she held some

up at me through the bars, her eyes

said, her voice hoarse but filled with mockery. "Look who's come to

could win, Astrid?

you

you'd get away with it? I told you before, you

dungeon. She had screamed threats at me then, words I had dismissed as the ravings of a bitter, defeated woman. I

moment, I felt the anger surge in my

smirk widened, mistaking my silence for anguish, for pain. "Ryker is dead, isn't he?" she asked, her voice dripping with twisted

beg, to cry at my feet, but it's too late, Astrid. I told you, no one escapes me.

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