The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 613

**Military 613: Chapter 613 The Cost**

Laura lingered at the threshold of her apartment building, her heart racing as she felt the solid presence of Weston beside her—a steadfast shadow in the dim light. She could feel the tension in her fingers, which instinctively curled into her palm, betraying the calm facade she desperately tried to maintain.

Weston had swept her up from the car with an ease that was both comforting and disconcerting, carrying her through the lobby and down the hushed corridor. In his arms, she felt less like a mere patient and more like a delicate ornament, precariously pinned to the strong fabric of his chest.

“Just set me on the couch,” she managed to say, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

“Of course.” His response was succinct, yet the way he lowered her onto the couch was filled with a gentleness that suggested he feared she might shatter like glass.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she ventured into the uncomfortable territory of their conversation. “So—what price do you expect me to pay?”

The question hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. One clean cut is far better than the slow dread of uncertainty, she reminded herself, forcing the words from her lips.

Weston remained silent, rising to his feet. He moved with purpose, locating a tumbler and filling it with warm water before shaking two pills from the small pharmacy bag he had brought with him.

He returned to her side, placing the pills in her palm before pressing the glass into her fingers. “For the pain. Take them, or tonight will be unbearable.”

“Fine.” She chose silence over argument, knowing that resisting would only serve to punish her own body further.

With a tremor, she lifted the glass to her lips, but halfway there, her arm began to shake. The soft-tissue damage gnawed at her hidden nerves, transforming the simple act of lifting a tumbler into a struggle against an overwhelming ache.

Weston’s expression shifted as he observed her. “It hurts?”

“A little,” she admitted, the word barely escaping her lips before he deftly took the glass from her grip.

“Let me.” He guided the rim to her mouth, one hand cradling her chin with a tenderness that felt almost intimate, a gesture that sent her heart racing.

The warmth of his breath against her skin painted the moment with an intensity that made her pulse quicken in protest.

She swallowed the pills along with the water, then murmured, “All right. That’s enough.”

“Need more?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

“No.” The answer burst forth before she had the chance to think it through.

Weston set the half-full glass on the nightstand, the soft click of glass against wood resonating in the room—a subtle harbinger of the storm brewing between them. His eyes met hers, calm yet resolute. “Now,” he instructed, each word deliberate, “take off your blouse.”

Laura’s eyes widened, her heart racing as panic surged through her veins, painting her cheeks a deep crimson. “What? Weston, is this the price you want from me?”

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