The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 338

Quinn flung the door open and slid out, crouching low behind a rusted guardrail before sprinting toward the gunshots, every movement economical, lethal, swift.

Harlan followed at her heels, matching her rhythm without a wasted breath.

Still moving, Quinn hissed, “Keep your head. The second this turns uglier than we can handle, fall back to cover—no debate.”

“Understood.”

Yet Harlan knew the truth. If danger erupted, his first and only priority would be her safety, no matter the cost.

Even if she had once been his captain—even if it meant disobeying her direct order.

The soundtrack of gunfire intensified, sporadic pops turning into a brutal, staccato drumroll.

When Quinn skidded to a halt, bodies already littered the cracked asphalt—some in police blues, others in the street clothes of desperate men.

Only one pattern was clear: four kidnappers were closing in on Leander.

Serena cowered behind her brother, hair disheveled, terror plastered across her face like wet paint.

“Leander, you can't abandon me! Remember—I'm the real blood of the Fane family!” Serena shrieked, fingers digging into his arm.

Leander's brow knotted, frustration flaring behind his measured stare.

Moments earlier, had Serena not provoked the gunmen with her reckless mouth, police and family could have slipped her out clean.

Instead, she'd spun the night toward chaos, turning a surgical rescue into a bar-room brawl with bullets.

Now the kidnappers were feral, their logic drowned beneath adrenaline and fear.

Leander counted four gunmen; he held only one pistol, and failure was not an option—he could not die tonight.

If he fell, Lena would lose the Fane fortune's backing, and her chance at life-saving treatment would evaporate.

The kidnappers pressed closer. Backup sirens were nowhere in earshot. Leander's pulse hammered in his temples.

Two kidnappers jerked as unseen rounds punched into them. They collapsed, groaning, before their weapons clattered uselessly on the pavement.

Leander blinked, spotting Quinn and Harlan. “How did you—”

“Talk later. Move now,” Quinn ordered.

Another volley erupted. Quinn and Harlan answered in seamless tandem, muzzle flashes strobing their faces. Serena, wild-eyed, yanked Leander's arm. “You have to protect me! If I go down, Lena goes with me!”

“Let go of my hand first. If you keep holding on like this—”

Why? Helping a stranger is mercy enough; if she thought I might be her brother, it's already more than enough that she came to help me.

Yet she chose flesh and blood over fear, as though her own life meant less than his. Did it never occur to her that one bullet could take her life?

Harlan dispatched the last kidnapper, then vaulted to Quinn's side, barely catching her before she collapsed. Breathing hard, he ripped off his tie and pressed it against the wound, voice shaking. “I'm getting you to a hospital now.”

Quinn's face turned chalk-white; beads of sweat rolled from her brow as she fought the pain.

“Why?” Leander whispered, the words torn from someplace raw. “Why throw yourself in front of me?”

Drawing a shallow breath, Quinn looked at him—safe, whole—and managed a fragile smile.

Thank goodness, Rowan is safe!

“Because... you are Rowan,” she said, voice thin but steady. “You're the only family I have left. Years ago, you were wounded protecting me. Today I repay that debt with my own body.”

They were brother and sister.

Bound by blood, by love too fierce for reason.

A sudden, blinding ache knifed through Leander's skull.