My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 281

Neglected 281 Summary

Soren struggled with his conflicted feelings toward Fiona, recognizing her as his weakness despite his mistrust. As she affectionately called him “Hubby,” his heart softened, but he remained guarded. Suddenly, he was stabbed, the pain sharp but dulled by previous wounds. Despite the injury, Soren refused to give up, pretending to be more hurt than he was to buy time.

Fiona appeared unexpectedly, stabbing the attacker, Spencer Sunderland, who was revealed to be a planted assassin by Emperor Aldric. Though inexperienced, Fiona’s basic sword skills, taught by Soren, allowed her to hold her ground against Spencer’s deadly attacks. Soren urged her to retreat, knowing he was weakening, but Fiona stood firm, determined to protect him and their secret.

The fight intensified as Spencer aimed to kill Soren quickly, but Fiona’s intervention distracted him just enough for Soren to land a fatal blow. As Spencer collapsed, Fiona mercilessly finished him off, driven by the need to ensure her family’s safety and Soren’s survival. The blood on her pale face marked the harsh reality of taking a life, a burden she bore with trembling hands and tears.

Despite the shock and grief, Fiona’s priority was Soren’s well-being. She crawled to his side, reassuring him that the danger had passed. Though Soren was barely conscious, Fiona’s presence was a small comfort amid the chaos, highlighting the fragile hope amid their desperate situation.

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281 Echoes Of Longing

Soren was no monk; even then, his resolve had softened.

He could not draw close to Fiona, could not trust her, yet he had to admit–she was precisely his weakness.

How could the man he once was remain unmoved when day after day she coaxed him, calling him “Hubby” in that lilting tone?

Even in this life, a single sweet phrase from her warmed him; what man could remain unmoved by whispered endearments shared upon a marriage bed?

The next second, the sword entered his body.

Already numb from countless wounds, he scarcely felt the blade, yet his heart convulsed with savage clarity.

After I am gone, Fiona might marry Xavier…

In darker hours, Soren imagined a world that would, in a handful of years, let his name drift into dust. The thought stoked a jagged envy inside him; oblivion felt more unbearable than death.

Each inch that the blade burrowed into his side stole another lungful of air, until every breath came ragged, urgent–and then, without warning, the steel stopped advancing.

Soren refused to surrender. He knew a direct clash would doom him, so he had played the victim, letting that first thrust miss anything vital and making no move to strike back.

Now, fingers closing around his own sword, he felt a final ember of strength flicker alive. This was the instant. He tightened his grip, ready to act.

A warm droplet spattered across his cheek. Forcing his eyes open, Soren realized it was blood, except it was someone else’s. Before him, the man’s chest had been run clean through by a short knife, the blade yanked free again with a grisly rip.

Only then did the man register the agony, twisting away and clamping both hands over the wound while crimson poured between his fingers.

Behind him stood a slight youth–the disguise could fool a stranger, yet Soren knew that pale face, those shaking hands clutching the knife.

It was Fiona.

A surge of gratitude flashed through Soren’s narrowed eyes, but dread followed hard on its heels; he had never wanted her to return to this ruinous place.

Composure slipped. Even he felt panic begin to hammer in his chest.

Fiona stared at the bleeding man and froze. The attacker was none other than Spencer Sunderland!

Back in Jexburgh, when Soren prepared to leave the capital, she had noted the unfamiliar face in the entourage, haunted by a sense she’d seen him somewhere before.

Now she understood–Emperor Aldric had planted Spencer at Soren’s side for exactly this treacherous hour.

Spencer, still dangerously quick, whirled his sword toward her.

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A flicker of relief crossed Fiona’s mind–had Soren not forced her to learn basic swordsmanship months ago, she would never have dared strike, much less face these ripostes.

Yet Spencer’s technique ranked among the empire’s finest. Even wounded, each slash carved the air with speed she could not hope.

to outrun.

Soren shouted, “Fall back!”

A sudden gust–Soren’s counterstrike—forced Spencer to whirl, abandoning the thrust meant for Fiona.

Spencer realized immediately that he had to finish Soren first.

His next flurry aimed squarely for the kill, every stroke meant to end Soren’s life before another heartbeat could pass.

Breath ragged, Soren turned to Fiona and whispered, “Leave now.”

His gaze carried worry, and something that looked too much like farewell.

Fiona knew him too well; she saw immediately that he could no longer summon his usual, overwhelming strength. His injuries had ravaged him.

Spencer, too, was slowing, his steps unsteady–her dagger had struck dead center in his chest.

Fiona tightened her grip on the short blade; Spencer could not be allowed to live.

He had seen her uncovered face. If he survived and returned to Emperor Aldric, her entire family would fall under suspicion, even should Soren die here tonight.

The instant Spencer’s sword hissed up into the lantern–smoked gloom, Fiona pushed forward. Her small boots scraped the cracked flagstones, yet nothing in her stance hinted at fear–only a decision already made.

Spencer spun, startled by her advance. He parried on reflex, three quick clashes that rang through the ruined shrine. In that sliver of distraction, Soren, drained to the marrow, thrust once. The tip of his blade found Spencer’s ribs and drove clean through.

Steel slid free. Both men crumpled, armor and cloth folding like spent wings against the cold stone floor.

Through the haze of pain, Soren saw Fiona again. Her face, wax–pale yet eerily calm, hovered above Spencer’s fallen body. She wrenched the blood–slick sword out, lifted it, located the point that ended breath, and stabbed–once, twice–each strike merciless

and sure.

He had taught her those killing points for one reason: so she might survive a world that asked no permission to harm her. Never had he imagined the first time she used them would be to drag him back from death’s ledge.

A crimson spray dotted her cheeks.

Against that pallid skin, the blood looked violent and unforgiving. Yet to Soren, half–conscious on the floor, she seemed to burn with light–an avenging angel forged from tenderness and iron.

Spencer’s fingers twitched as if still chasing one last counterstroke. Then they stilled. Whatever schemes had driven him were buried with the final silence that settled in his eyes.

Fiona’s breath came in ragged pulls. She sagged to her knees, every limb trembling until tears spilled–hot, shocked, undeniable.

She had taken a life.

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Yet panic for Soren flared brighter than grief. She crawled to his side, terror wet in her lashes, and still managed to whisper, “Don’t worry, Lord Soren. The danger is past.”

Soren tried to answer, but even his eyelids felt like iron doors.

Fiona felt his chest, then his breath–so faint it nearly vanished between heartbeats. Knowing he lived allowed her a shaky sigh, nothing more.

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Conclusion

The chapter closes on a fragile balance between despair and hope, as Soren’s battered body lies vulnerable yet alive, sustained by Fiona’s fierce determination. Their intertwined fates reveal the depth of their bond—one forged in pain, trust, and a shared will to survive against overwhelming odds. Fiona’s transformation from a gentle presence to a fierce protector underscores the chapter’s emotional core, highlighting how love can awaken unexpected strength in the face of danger.

Despite the violence and looming uncertainty, the quiet moments between them carry a profound tenderness, a promise that even in the darkest hours, their connection endures. The chapter’s echoes of longing and sacrifice leave a lingering sense of both loss and resilience, reminding us that love, no matter how tested, can be a lifeline amid chaos.

What to Expect in Next Chapter?

The next chapter promises to delve deeper into the fragile aftermath of the deadly confrontation, where the weight of survival clashes with the harsh reality of loss. Fiona’s emotional turmoil, having taken a life to protect Soren, will likely unfold with raw intensity, revealing how this act alters her sense of self and her relationship with the man she fiercely defends. Meanwhile, Soren’s precarious condition will keep readers on edge, as every breath he takes seems to hang by a thread, raising questions about his fate and the future that awaits them both.

Tensions are far from resolved, and the shadows of betrayal and danger still loom large. The consequences of Spencer’s death may ripple outward, threatening to expose secrets and ignite new conflicts within the empire’s treacherous political landscape. As Fiona and Soren navigate this uncertain terrain, their bond will be tested in unexpected ways, forcing them to confront not only external threats but also the vulnerabilities that have long shaped their intertwined destinies. The next chapter will be a delicate balance of hope and despair, where every choice carries profound weight.