The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 349

Chapter 349 Powerless Fury

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Arrogance had always been Harlan’s second skin. Nothing, not even the brutal rites of the military camp where his father once dumped him, had ever made him feel truly cornered.

If someone hit him, he hit back. Simple as that.

Only one moment had broken that rule–three years ago, when news reached him that Quinn had married. The helplessness of that day had etched itself into his bones. He had sworn he would never taste it again.

Yet here it was, creeping over him once more. He knew Julius had taken her, but he had no idea where to start looking. The vast world felt suddenly, mockingly, empty.

He knew with painful clarity that Quinn had been taken away by Julius, but he didn’t even know where to find her or where she might be.

The Whitethorn family. Julius Whitethorn.

Julius had sworn he would never harm Quinn, yet an unnamed dread clawed at him. These next fifteen days loomed like a trap waiting to spring. No. I would not wait. I would scour the world for Quinn and bring her back myself.

Given she was stranded for fifteen long days, Quinn chose prudence over open war with Julius.

Though he had trapped her on the island, the cell towers still hummed; her phone and the internet were hers to command.

The single frustration was the blank patch on every map app; Julius had scrubbed the island’s coordinates clean, leaving her no clue where in the ocean she drifted.

Just as Julius claimed, they were the island’s only flesh–and–blood residents; cleaning, cooking, and even laundry were carried out by silent housekeeping drones that glided down the halls like silver ghosts.

On the second dawn, he coaxed her into a dune buggy and traced the island’s ragged perimeter.

The ride showed the place was pocket–sized, with no boats, helipads, or hidden docks in sight.

Unless a rescuer breached Julius‘ defenses–or she swam through open sea–escape was impossible.

Even the fresh bandage on her shoulder was applied by Julius himself.

The wound sat at the back of her left shoulder, a tricky spot for solo care.

Inside the sitting room, she lowere/l her collar, revealing the bruised and stitched flesh.

Julius’s long, confident fingers skimmed the ragged edge of the injury with barely a whisper of pressure. “Does it hurt?” he murmured.

His voice drifted against her car, soft as a lullaby.

“Not really,” Quinn said, forcing calm. “If you’re going to medicate it, do it quickly.”

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Chapter 349 Powerless Fury

Her sentence fractured when something satin–soft grazed the wound.

Only then did she grasp it was his mouth, reverent and warm, sealing kisses over the torn skin.

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“Julius, what are you doing?” she snapped, twisting away, but his hand pinned her in place with unsettling gentleness.

He kept kissing, treating the injury as though it were a priceless shard of glass that might shatter beneath his lips.

“Julius, we’re no longer in a relationship. You can’t do this.” Her voice hardened. “Don’t force me to fight back.”

Left shoulder crippled or not, she knew a dozen ways to drop him before he blinked.

He murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Quinn’s spine went rigid while his apology kept spilling into the quiet.

“I’m sorry I was late–sorry I failed to shield you–sorry for everything.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Quinn replied. “The wound has nothing to do with you.”

“If I’d reached you a breath sooner, no bullet would have touched you,” he whispered, a vow glinting in his voice.

He could still see her blood soaking the white blouse as Harlan caught her, and in that memory, every light

in his universe went out.

Terror gripped Julius with claws of ice. He pictured Quinn slipping away, her pulse forever still, her voice swallowed by silence. He imagined never again feeling the faint warmth of her skin or catching the quiet glow in her eyes, and the thought cracked something deep inside him.

For one crazed heartbeat, he wanted to drag the whole brutal world into the grave beside her.

Then reality swung back–she was breathing, fragile but alive–and the storm inside him eased just enough to let him move.

“Julius, thank you for everything you did in Doria. We’ve broken up, and you’re under no obligation to protect me. You’re not responsible for my injury, so don’t say you’re sorry,” Quinn said.

He lowered his eyes, shadows crossing their dark surface, and at last, he uncurled his fingers from her arm, the surrender small but echoing through the quiet room.

“Hold still. The dressing isn’t finished. Let me do it.”

This time, Julius worked with solemn focus, cleaning the torn skin along her shoulder and smoothing fresh ointment across the angry bruise.

When he was done, he layered/gauze with surgeon’s care, then guided her arm through the sleeve, fastening each button as though sealing away her pain.

Quinn stared at his fingers. “Your fingers… How are they?”

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Chapter 349 Powerless Fury

Three of his fingers had been snapped by her that day she ended it with him.

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“Almost healed. Give it a little longer, and the doctor says I’ll be as good as new. No lasting damage.”

“That’s good to hear.”

A flicker of light crossed his eyes–the smallest flare of hope–because her concern, however brief, meant she hadn’t cut him out entirely.

“What do you feel like for dinner?” he asked.

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