The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 642

Chapter 642 Flames And Promises

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He had not followed her into death all those years ago because she had made him swear to stay alive, no matter what storms came, and never take his own life.

When she asked for that pledge, he had felt a foolish surge of hope, believing the promise meant her heart had finally thawed and that their story would begin anew.

“Joaquin, once you give me your word, you must keep it. Break it, and in every lifetime to come you will never see me again–I will never forgive you.”

“All right, I swear,” he had answered, smiling as though the future had already begun to mend.

He had never guessed that vow would twist into a demon’s curse, chaining him to a life he no longer wanted. He despised every dawn, yet the promise barred him from ending the torment himself.

To perish by another’s hand would feel equally wrong; pride and the last scraps of dignity refused to let him be dispatched like a wounded animal.

In his eyes, only one person possessed the right to end him–Julius, the child born of their shared blood. So, he tightened the noose around his son’s soul, driving the boy toward despair, certain that when the world finally shattered Julius would turn the gun on him.

But the bullet that found him tonight came from Quinn Bridger.

Oddly enough, he found the idea almost comforting.

He dragged himself against the oak, blood–soaked fingers brushing its bark as tenderly as if it were Quinn’s own cheek. “You forbade me from taking my life,” he whispered, a broken laugh rattling through his chest. “Dying by our daughter–in–law’s hand–yes, that feels acceptable.”

With trembling hands, he fished a weathered envelope from the tatters of his coat–the one Julius had handed over to him. Fresh blood smeared across the paper, turning the farewell words crimson.

He pried it open, hands shaking so violently the parchment crackled, and stared at the familiar handwriting, line after line.

He would have recognized Quinn’s script among a thousand; the elegant curves were etched into his memory like scars.

Blood loss dimmed his sight, yet he forced his eyes to focus, refusing to miss even a single character she had left behind.

Then he reached the signature-“The one who hates you most in this world.” A rough, startling laugh burst from him, echoing through the inferno like shattered bells.

He had been laughing–a thin, cracked laughter that tried to sound reckless–but halfway through, the sound tore open into a wet cough. Bright blood flooded his mouth and splattered the moss–dark roots at

his feet.

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20:19 Thu, Dec 25 G.

Chapter 642 Flames And Promises

+20 Free Coins

“Even if you hate me,” he rasped, each syllable dancing on another spurt of scarlet, “you and I are bound for every life to come. I… I did not choose the coward’s way. I did not die by my own hand. So now I can finally see you again, right?”

When the words fell away, he slumped back against the tree, shoulders sliding like a puppet with its strings cut. Somewhere above the canopy, the thrum of rotor blades arose, distant at first, then closing in, beating harder, louder, inevitable.

The silhouette resolved, and a jolt shot through Quinn. It was Joaquin.

She kept her eyes locked on the lone figure slouched against the trunk a short distance away. The man who had once carried himself with chilling precision was now pitiful, barely holding upright, every movement dulled by pain.

“Ray!” Quinn called, her voice slicing through the rotor wash.

“On it!” Raymond answered, the old field chemistry sparking to life without a second’s hesitation. He already knew exactly what their captain intended.

Raymond unhooked the rope ladder and fed it out of the cabin, readying himself to haul the wounded

man up.

Julius spoke up, voice steady. “Let me go down.”

“You sure you can handle it?” Raymond asked, genuine doubt sharpening his tone. Dragging a gravely injured man up a swaying rope ladder was no job for the untrained; failure here could kill them both.

“I can,” Julius said, voice iron. “He’s my father. I owe it to him to drag him up there and make sure he faces the punishment he deserves.”

Raymond glanced at Quinn, uncertainty flickering. “Let Julius go,” Quinn decided. “Stay close, watch his back.”

“Copy,” Raymond replied.

Julius gripped the rope ladder and began his careful descent. Inside the cockpit, Quinn eased the helicopter lower, blades churning the humid air until the treetops bowed beneath them. Step by step, Julius closed the gap between sky and earth, tree trunk and father.

Joaquin lifted his head by inches, lips moving without sound. “So you came… my son…”

“If you plan on living another minute, give me your hand,” Julius said, voice as cold as the steel cables swaying beside him.

A crooked smile twitched across Joaquin’s face, yet even that small gesture drained what little strength he had left.

He felt life bleeding out of him in unstoppable waves.

Since the moment his wife died, he had never wanted to live–only to die.

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20:19 Thu, Dec 25

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