The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 403

Chapter 403 Falling Debris

Chapter 403 Falling Debris

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Quinn turned to scout a path–but Serena lunged, eyes blazing with malice, and shoved at her

back. “Go to hell!”

The hand never landed. Quinn twisted, dodged the blow, and–before shock could fade from Serena’s face–drove the heel of her palm into Serena’s temple. The woman’s gaze went glassy, and she crumpled without a sound.

Serena’s body folded like a marionette whose strings had been slashed, landing in an untidy heap on the floor.

Quinn pressed her lips together. Smoke stung her eyes, her fractured leg blazed with pain, and the earlier explosion had drained what little stamina she had left.

Can I really drag her out of here in this condition?

The memory of Rowan’s soft expression whenever he spoke of Lena surged up. Quinn clenched her jaw and stooped, ready to haul Serena onto her shoulder–when the ceiling groaned, then splintered.

She yanked Serena sideways and flung the unconscious woman toward a clearer patch of floor. Debris thundered down like a stone curtain, cutting off the route she had intended to take.

Her shattered right leg made speed impossible. Each movement sent hot needles racing along the bone.

All she could do was shield her head and chest, praying to absorb the smallest blow the collapsing ceiling might deliver.

Yet the expected impact never came.

A lone figure had stepped between her and the falling wreckage–so sudden, so sure, it felt like a miracle torn straight from legend.

Quinn’s pupils contracted. She stared, breath seized in disbelief.

It was Julius Whitethorn. Not a firefighter. Not a rescue professional. Julius himself stood there, braced like a bastion against the chaos.

How could Julius have found his way into this burning tomb?

Wooden beams and jagged plaster rained from the trembling ceiling. One slab smashed into the center of his back with a sickening thud, knocking the breath from him and driving him to

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his knees.

Somehow, he planted both palms in the rubble, bracing on either side of Quinn’s body, shielding her with his own. His face was paper–white, sweat streaking through soot. “Move- now,” he rasped. “Find someplace safe. Go!”

Quinn pushed upright, her legs trembling yet unyielding. “We leave together–both of us,” she shot back, the words a vow more than a plea.

Several heavy chunks of ceiling pinned Julius‘ spine like iron weights.

Above them, the cracked concrete groaned, threatening to send fresh debris at any second. Quinn bent low, fingers bleeding as she wrestled those stones off his back one by one.

“Leave me be,” Julius murmured, each breath a scrape of glass. “I’m not dying here. You get out -rescuers will be here any minute.”

He had dragged himself through the inferno for one reason only–her. All he wanted was for Quinn to breathe, to live, to greet tomorrow untouched.

Quinn’s jaw locked, eyes bright with smoke and anger. “Stop the nonsense!” She heaved another stone aside. “I told you–we leave together!”

Her voice rang with a resolve that could not be bargained down.

In the dancing firelight, the ruby necklace at her throat swung wildly, throwing shards of scarlet across the smoke. The gleam stung his eyes. Julius stared, stunned. That necklace—he had seen one exactly like it before.

“You know?” the little girl had whispered, solemn beyond her years. “This necklace belongs to my mom, but she says we have to trade it for food and medicine so more people can stay alive. Mom loves it so much. She’s always treasured it. When I grow up, I’ll buy it back for her, and she’ll be so happy!”

That half–buried memory slammed into him like a second collapse of concrete and flame.

“Don’t die–please don’t die! I’ll save you, I swear I will! If we go, we go together!” The child’s voice, choked with sobs, echoed as she hauled stone after stone from his broken body.

It was the first time in his life he had felt anyone care whether he lived or vanished.

Neither his father nor his mother had ever spared such concern.

Years ago, kidnapped to a foreign land, he had heard the kidnappers name their price while his father answered coldly over the phone, “He’s a useless child. If he can’t survive, he isn’t

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Chapter 403 Falling Debris

worthy of the Whitethorn name.”

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