The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 733

Chapter 733 Can’t Lose Her Again 
The thought slammed him fully conscious–he would not lose her again.. 
He would stand beside her, tear their daughter free together. 
That child was the life Quinn had shielded with her own body–their most fragile, irreplaceable treasure. 
“Quinnie!” Julius’s eyes flew open; before shapes settled, hot tears burst, spilling uncontrolled down his cheeks. 
“Master Whitethorn, you’re awake!” Fabian’s voice broke against his ear. 
Julius stared up at the man, mind wobbling between dream–shards and the m of the room. amplight 
“Master Whitethorn, are you all right? You’ve been unconscious a full day and night–I’ll fetch Dr. Huxley!” Fabian blurted. 
Fabian turned, but Julius’s hand shot out, clamping his wrist. “Quinnie–where is she?” 
“Madam left Jexburgh with the police, sir. They’re in Arvale searching for Miss Verity and your daughter. She—” 
Julius threw the sheets aside and lunged for the doorway. 
Fabian blocked him. “Master Whitethorn, your body’s still weak–let Dr. Huxley examine you first.” 
“Move.” Julius’s shout cracked the air. 
Pain ricocheted behind his eyes, as if forgotten memories had been rammed back into place all at once. 
Fabian hesitated. “But-” 
Julius swiped him aside with a single palm, stumbling toward the door. 
His fingers barely touched the knob before someone outside pushed it open. 
Dr. Gavin Huxley stepped in, catching the tear tracks on Julius’s face. “What on earth-” 
“Stand aside. I’m going to Quinnie.” 
“Let me assess you first. If your condition allows-” 
“Condition? If it doesn’t, I should just sit here and wait? I’ve already lost her five years–I won’t lose her again!” 
Dr. Huxley stared, momentarily speechless. 
He would find Quinn. This time, life or death, he would stay at her side. Tears blurred his eyes, but the heat inside them felt like iron instead of water. No door, no bullet, no heaven could keep him from her. 
Whoever had dared spill blood at a Whitethorn banquet was no reckless fool; only predators stalked prey on his home ground. 
The suspicion coiled tighter–someone inside the family must have opened intruders. for the 
He had always known the branch clan watched him. With Quinn missing and no child to anchor the line, his very grief had become their invitation. 
One coffin would have ended the Whitethorn main line. After that, the branch wolves could divide Whitethorn Group like hunters carving a carcass. 
But Quinn had walked back through his gates, Dawn clutched against her heart, and the scent of their shared blood ruined every scheme. 
Dreams gone, desperation thrived; cornered men would light the house just to watch new owners burn. 
Guilt knifed through him. If he had fortified the estate, if he had cut the parasites from the branch, if he had torn the hypnotic veil from his own mind–Dawn would be sleeping safe right now. Instead he let cowardice whisper that memories were traps. 
The thought sickened him so much that his palm shot upward. Crack–skin met skin, twice, hard enough to ring in his skull. Pain blossomed, a brutal punctuation his heart insisted on. 
Dr. Gavin Huxley grabbed his wrist, warm fingers anchoring the winds of Julius’s fury. “You remember everything with Quinn? But the hypnosis- it hasn’t been lifted yet!” 
Ordinarily only a world–class hypnotist could unlock that cage, and they hadn’t even found one. 
“It broke on its own,” Julius whispered, astonished and ashamed. The moment her face blazed inside him, the lock melted like tin in fire. Every sacrifice she had made, every hour he had loved her–each memory roared back, unstoppable. 
Regret rose higher than breath, a dark tide licking at his lungs. 
The deeper the love, the heavier the chains of remorse he now wore. 
Dawn’s abduction–avoidable, if only he had opened his eyes sooner. 
Quinn had bought their daughter’s first breath with the edge of her own life; he, of all people, should have guarded that gift. 
He should have chased kidnappers beside her, not abandoned her to choke on waiting. 
“I’m going to Quinnie,” Julius said, voice rasping against the unsteady rhythm of his heart. “I don’t care what my body thinks–it can follow or break.” 
The decision slammed shut like a vault; any soul blocking the path would spy be debris. 
If gods stood in the doorway, he would leave shattered halos behind. 
“Then I’m coming,” Dr. Huxley answered without pause. “If your heart decides to riot on the road, someone needs to drag you back.” 
Julius only nodded; arguing would waste seconds he refused to surrender. 
Ten minutes later engines rumbled awake. A small convoy rolled out of Whitethorn Manor, headlights spearing the night toward Arvale. 
Inside the lead car, Fabian cleared his throat. “Master Whitethorn, Madam left a message: whatever happens, she’ll crawl if she must, but she’ll return to you.” 
Julius pressed his lips tight; five years ago the same vow had sounded in that same soft voice. 
When she vanished, he had raged through every city, cursing the promise as a lie–if she loved him, why abandon him with empty words? 
The question still scraped raw: why forge hope only to break it? 
Living without her had felt like borrowing breath from a corpse; better to share a grave than that hollow air. 
Yet she had marched back, child in arms, promise intact and shining. 
And tonight the words came again, steady as pulse, binding as steel. 
Julius’s chest tightened. Had her soft, steady eyes been telling him she had never intended to leave him at all? 
Whatever came, even if his legs were smashed and all hope burned away, he would still drag. himself to her side–on elbows, on bleeding knees, on sheer refusal alone.