The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 664

Chapter 664 Where Is Dawn

Chapter 664 Where Is Dawn

Emma broke down in frightened sobs.

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Seeing her husband raise his hand again, Mindy finally spoke. “The red–light district… I… I left her in the red–light district.”

Edmund’s expression changed instantly. Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, his eyes flickering slightly, and answered the call.

The moment Edmund heard the first sentence through the receiver, the calm veneer cracked. He shot to his feet, face draining of color. “What did you just say? Repeat that–right now!”

“M–Mr. Arnold, I’m terribly sorry,” the trembling voice stammered through the speaker. “That vegetative woman you asked us to guard–she… she’s suddenly gone.”

Edmund slammed a hand against the mahogany desk; the dull thud echoed through the office. “She’s in a vegetative state–how could she possibly vanish? And weren’t there nurses posted right outside her door?”

“T–There was, sir. I swear. The moment he stepped away to use the restroom, she was gone.”

“Then stop talking and start looking!” Edmund roared, spit catching the light. “I’m dispatching my own team to the hospital. I don’t care how–bring her back to me, dead or alive!”

“Y–Yes, sir, I already have people searching,” the caller sputtered.

As the call clicked dead, Edmund lowered the phone with a hand that trembled despite the rage. His face

was stormy.

A sick realization flooded him. First, the child had slipped through his fingers–now even the comatose woman had vanished.

The threads he had once held in a tight fist were loosening, one by one, and with each snap a cold unease coiled tighter in his gut.

Inside a cramped supply closet that smelled of disinfectant and stale linen, Megan steadied the mobite gurney she had just pushed through the door. On the mattress lay Quinn, motionless, tubes dangling. Across from her stood the nurse, Angela.

“Thank you for warning me she was in danger,” Megan said, her voice low but fiercely sincere.

“You helped me once,” Angela whispered, brushing a stray lock behind her ear. “And I know she friend. For years, you’ve looked after her and her little girl. Dr. George and those nurses took money to end her life. I’m a nurse–I swore the Nightingale pledge. I couldn’t stand by and let them turn my oath into dirt.”

“I owe you,” Megan murmured, eyes softening. “I just don’t know if she’ll ever open her eyes again–if she’ll get to see her little girl with her own two eyes.”

The odds had already been cruel. Even before tonight, Quinn’s chance of waking hove between rumor and miracle. Now a syringe filled with cardiac poison ran silent wars inside her veins.

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Chapter 664 Where Is Dawn

Waking seemed impossible; survival itself a fragile question.

But Megan refused to let “White“, the name she had given Quinn, die in that ward.

Whatever it cost, she would gamble for her faint sliver of life.

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Years ago, Megan had stood on a rooftop, drunk on despair and ready to step over the edge. Then, Quinn, mid–labor and soaked in sweat, had brought Dawn into the world, and with that infant’s first cry, Megan rediscovered a reason to keep breathing.

She never learned the woman’s real name. During the fevered moments of childbirth, the only word that had slipped from trembling lips with any clarity was “Whitethorn.” The name stuck, a fragment of identity clutched like a keepsake.

Dressed in an oversized janitor’s uniform and a cap that shadowed her face, Megan eased Quinn’s limp body into a sterile trash cart. Hunched over the handles, she steered the cart toward the hospital’s rear exit, heart drumming against her ribs.

Outside, Angela had parked a gray sedan beside the loading dock, engine idling, headlights dimmed for

secrecy.

The moment the cart crossed the threshold, a security guard drifted out of the shadows. “Open the cart,” he ordered, eyes narrowing. “I need to inspect the contents.”

Megan’s pulse spiked. Opening the lid would reveal the impossible cargo nestled among linen bags.

Without hesitation, she palmed the stun baton she’d taped beneath the cart. A crack of blue light, at muffled grunt, and the guard collapsed, convulsing on the asphalt.

As the man twitched on the ground, Angela swung the car beside Megan and popped the rear door. “Get in -now!”

Megan nodded, scooped Quinn into her arms, and laid her across the back seat, careful to cradle the inert head.

She was pulling the door shut when a shout rang out behind them. “Stop those women! They’ve taken the coma patient!”

Slam!

Megan yanked the door shut, and Angela hammered the accelerator.

The sedan surged forward, tires squealing. In the mirror, a cluster of headlights flared to life and gave chase, three–maybe four–cars hugging their bumper.

The gap was shrinking when, from the back seat, Quinn’s body jerked violently. Her limbs seized, eyes fluttering beneath lids, as though some unseen current had ripped through her.

Megan lurched forward, her voice slicing through the roar of the engine like a tear in fabric. “White? What’s happening to you? White!”

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