"There are certain things that even the people closest to you shouldn't know," Reba said flatly. "I believe your time with the Yelchin family already taught you that."
Starla fell silent. The Yelchin family. She was right. Even during the days when she was closest to Fairfax, she had kept massive secrets from him—her design studio, the bio-company she founded... He hadn't known about any of it.
"Understood," Starla replied simply.
Honestly, even if Reba hadn't warned her, she wouldn't have told Herbert. The trust she once had in him was fractured. She didn't know what he was hiding or how it would affect her, but for now, keeping her guard up was her only option.
They soon arrived at their destination: a secluded, outdoor shooting range.
"Why are we here?" Starla asked, bewildered.
Reba stepped out and respectfully opened the door for her, completely ignoring the question. Starla looked at the imposing bodyguard, then at the range, and silently stepped out.
As they walked, Reba asked casually, "Do you prefer a smaller firearm, or something with a bit more weight?"
"Wait, we're shooting?" Starla's composure slipped.
Reba turned to look at her, the crimson tint of her sunglasses failing to mask her sharp gaze. "We are not playing. We are training."
Training? Her expression was dead serious, indicating that this was not a suggestion.
"You need to reach professional proficiency within half a month," Reba stated.
"Professional?" Starla gaped. "You can't be serious."
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