The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 473

Chapter 473 Hostage Gambit

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Color drained from Joaquin’s face; every carefully stacked contingency was collapsing beneath Quinn’s relentless advance.

“And should those drones ignite your spare ammunition, Mr. Whitethorn, the blast radius becomes anybody’s guess. I doubt you’ll find time to reach a safe deck,” Quinn said.

If Joaquin was playing the madman, then she would have to out–mad him.

“Since you deem me unworthy to kill you, surely you don’t intend to die alongside me,” Quinn called back, her tone icy but wild.

“Clever–far cleverer than I allowed for,” Joaquin conceded, his smile turning carnivorous. “But tell me, Quinn, does human life mean so little to you?”

At his gesture, two guards hauled a figure into the floodlights, boots scraping against wet

concrete.

Quinn’s breath snagged. Lena Durand–pale, slight, impossibly out of place–slumped between the men, ropes biting into her wrists.

The discovery blindsided Quinn; she had trusted the Fane family bodyguards to keep Lena hidden, so she had not spared another thought for the girl tonight. Yet here Lena was, dragged into the crossfire because of Quinn’s war.

“Joaquin Whitethorn, what is the meaning of this?” Quinn shouted, fury stripping the formality from his name. “Why involve someone who has nothing to do with this?”

“Unrelated?” Joaquin snorted. “She could soon be your sister–in–law. Besides, my daft son offered

up

his stem cells for her sake–because of you. I’d say that binds her to our little drama.”

Lena’s face was chalk white, sweat beading at her hairline, every shallow breath tugging against the ropes that pinned her to the deck.

“Step out of that car now,” Joaquin warned, pressure in each syllable, “unless you prefer to watch this woman die where she stands.”

Quinn sat rigid, her lips pressed into a thin line as the night air seeped through the cracked window. In the driver’s seat, Fabian broke the hush. “Ms. Bridger, stay in the car. The moment you step out, if they have a hidden rifle trained on us…”

Quinn didn’t so much as glance at him. Instead, she murmured, her voice steady. “Those

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Chapter 473 Hostage Gambit

គ ០39 )

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armed drones hovering above us are enough. They won’t risk a random shot while the sky is watching.”

The idea flashed across her mind like cold steel catching moonlight. After all, even the finest marksman cannot swear that one bullet will finish me in a heartbeat.

Up above, each drone carried a so–called modified fireworks charge–a polite name for a very real bomb that would shred every soul in this parking lot.

Lena. I have to get her out alive.

The feud had always been between her and Joaquin. Lena was an innocent caught in the crossfire, collateral damage in a war she never signed up for.

Quinn shoved the door open and stepped onto the cracked asphalt, the drone lights painting restless halos over her head. Facing Joaquin across the thin slice of night, she called out. “What exactly do you want? If you’re still set on killing me, know this–I’ve given the order. The instant my heart stops, those drones will drop their charges. You’ll die with the ‘unworthy‘ me.”

Joaquin’s face stayed carved in stone. “What do I want? Let’s wait. When my fool of a son arrives, you’ll understand.”

“And what makes you so sure he’ll come at all?” she shot back, voice edged like broken glass.

“Because you’re here. He’ll come sooner or later.” He tilted his head, almost amused. “And forget the police–you called them, yes, but they won’t reach us in time.”

Quinn had expected as much; not a flicker of surprise crossed her features.

Joaquin came from a dynasty steeped in wealth and intrigue. Schemes were as natural to him as breathing. A man like that was never easy prey.

“Lena is frail,” Quinn warned. “If your rough handling kills her, she’ll be useless as leverage against me.”

Joaquin arched one brow, then gestured. A henchman hurried over with a folding chair, setting it behind Lena so she could sit.

At that moment, another engine growled up the drive. A black sedan slid to a halt, and Rowan climbed out, fury already igniting in his eyes.

“Lena!” he shouted, voice cracking across the night like a whip.

The silent, trembling woman finally broke. Tears spilled down her cheeks, carving shining tracks through the grime. “Rowan!” she sobbed.

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