The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 401

Chapter 401 Serena Fane Is Behind It

Chapter 401 Serena Fane Is Behind It

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He had no time to bargain with fear; Quinn was somewhere inside that burning maze, and each collapsing beam threatened to erase her from the world.

Everett cut the air with a sharp gesture toward the men flanking him. “Stop him!”

Four bodyguards moved, shoulders locking into an unbreakable wall before Leander.

“Move,” Leander barked, his voice cracking like gunfire.

“I just want you to be safe,” Everett countered. “If anything happens, your grandmother will relapse, and her heart can’t bear fresh grief.”

“So my safety is all that matters? My sister’s life is expendable?” His eyes blazed hotter than the fire itself.

Everett said nothing. The prayer beads turned, one by one, between his calloused fingers, each click a muted confession.

In Leander’s world, only two people truly mattered: his mother and his sister. Everyone else blurred into the hazy backdrop of a life devoted to penance.

Every day since the border inferno felt like another bead on the rosary of his guilt, polished by regret, stained by smoke.

“Quinn is my sister. Whatever stands in my way, I’m going in.”

“Don’t you dare!” Everett growled.

Leander lunged forward, driving an elbow into the nearest guard’s ribs and another into a jaw, splitting the human barricade through sheer resolve. His body moved on muscle memory, therapy drills repurposed into brutal efficiency.

“If it were your sister trapped in those flames, would you really stand here, arms folded, doing nothing?” he shouted, voice ragged.

Everett lifted a hand–abrupt, silent.

The guards froze mid–step.

Without turning back, Leander burst through the smoldering doorway and vanished into the choking heat of the banquet hall.

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17:59 Tue, Sep 16

Chapter 401 Serena Fane Is Behind It

30

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Everett watched his son’s retreating silhouette, lips pressed thin, before lowering his gaze once more to the prayer beads.

If his own sister were inside, he would pay any price to shield her from harm.

He had replayed that distant day a thousand times, cursing the moment he let go of her tiny hand.

Had he only obeyed his mother’s warning never to release his sister’s hand, she would never have vanished.

For years, he had scoured every corner of the country, yet his little sister remained a ghost no searchlight could catch.

Am I never going to find her?

When Quinn finally smelled smoke seeping under the lounge door, the knob refused to turn- the lock had been snapped shut from the outside.

She rammed her shoulder against the frame, once, twice, until the latch splintered and the door slammed inward. A wall of gray rushed in, thick as tar, swallowing every line of sight.

Without a blink, she gathered the satin hem of her evening gown and tore it clean away, turning the sweeping dress into a knee–length skirt better suited for running.

She grabbed a half–full bottle of water from the sideboard, twisted the cap, and drenched the torn fabric before pressing the wet cloth over her nose and mouth.

I have to get out—now! If the flames don’t reach me first, the smoke will. One lungful too many and my throat will swell shut, and that will be the end.

“Quinn Bridger, did you honestly believe you could leave this place alive?” a muffled female voice sneered through the haze.

Quinn wheeled around. Serena Fane stood at the corridor’s mouth, a sleek smoke mask strapped to her face and a pistol gleaming in her gloved hand. The dark barrel pointed straight at Quinn’s heart.

Quinn’s brow tightened. Their rivalry had been fierce, but never murderous–until now.

“You started this fire?” Quinn asked, eyes flicking over the room while her mind mapped Serena’s possible moves–and her own counters.

“That’s right. You die here tonight.” Serena’s tone was ice. “Stay put, or I pull the trigger.”

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18:00 Tue, Sep 16

Chapter 401 Serena Fane Is Behind It

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Heat licked up the walls behind Quinn; the inferno was racing closer, hungry and bright. Serena blocked the only free passage, plainly intent on forcing Quinn to burn inside her own private hell.

“The Whitethorn family is hosting this gala,” Quinn warned. “Fire crews will be here any second.”

“No one is coming,” Serena said, absolute certainty ringing in every word.

Doubt flashed across Quinn’s eyes. How could Serena, a mere fringe member of the Fane family, sabotage an event with Whitethorn–level security–then speak so confidently about the rescue teams never arriving?

Someone powerful had to be standing behind her.

“And if I refuse to stay put?” Quinn asked.

Serena blinked, startled, as Quinn strode straight toward the muzzle of the gun–each step longer, faster, more deliberate than the last.

“S–Stop! One more step and I’ll shoot!” Serena’s voice cracked, half command, half panic.

But Quinn did not slow. She drove forward through the swirling smoke, eyes locked on Serena’s, daring the other woman to decide–pull the trigger, or be overrun.

Serena’s face blanched, then flushed a violent red as terror crashed over her like a wave.

Bang! One brutal crack ripped through the hallway, the gun’s roar still vibrating against the walls long after the muzzle flash died.

Quinn ducked, slipping beneath the screaming bullet with a feline twist. The shot’s recoil kicked through Serena’s arms, and the force sent her staggering three full steps backward, boots skidding across polished stone.

Only then did Quinn’s eyes dart beyond her. Behind Serena lay a narrow flight of marble stairs, each tread slick and unforgiving.

Serena’s heel found nothing but air. Her eyes flew wide, arms flailing for a hold that wasn’t there, before gravity yanked her downward and her body tumbled into the yawning stairwell.

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