Chapter 212 Cruel Words And Desperation
Julius’s words landed like vicious slaps, stinging her cheeks with shame and pain.
Enough? How could it possibly be enough?
She ground her teeth. If he insisted on such cruelty, she would simply play dirtier than he could imagine.
Quinn showed Murren a stack of photographs of her brother, Rowan.
Murren examined each picture with care while Quinn stood beside him, sharing little stories about her brother.
“When I find Rowan, I’ll bring him here so he can visit you,” Quinn promised.
Murren looked at Rowan’s image. “I’m not sure I’ll live long enough to see that day.”
“You will!” Quinn said brightly. “I’ll locate him soon. You’re definitely going to meet him.”
“Good, good,” the old man nodded. “Then I’ll wait.”
A moment later Murren asked, “Are you together with Julius now?”
“Mm–hmm,” Quinn answered.
“He’s a deeply guarded man,” Murren warned gently. “And he carries the Whitethorn blood. Years ago his father did terrible things to win his mother–ruined the man she’d loved first, even–he…”
“Great–grandpa!” Quinn cut him off. “Julius is not his father. They’re different people.”
She knew Murren meant well, yet she couldn’t bear to hear Julius spoken of that way.
“You’re right. I’m biased,” Murren conceded. He’d seen with his own eyes how kindly that Whitethorn boy treated Quinn, and she clearly cared for him.
Their feelings, naturally, were not the same as the previous generation’s.
By the time Quinn left Murren’s room, a full hour had slipped by.
She checked her watch, wondering whether Julius was growing impatient in the parlor.
Just then she noticed a cluster of servants rushing down the corridor in the same direction.
“Something’s wrong–the parlor!” one cried.
“It’s Mr. Julius and Ms. Marley!” another added.
Quinn’s heart lurched. Julius and Marley?
What on earth was happening?
She broke into a sprint toward the parlor.
The doorway was jammed with servants. Quinn squeezed through the crowd–and froze at the sight
before her.
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Julius stood there, panting, a wildness twisting his features.
His hand was clamped around Marley’s throat.
Marley’s back was pressed against the wall, feet dangling above the floor, mouth gaping, her face chalk- white.
Around the room several servants lay sprawled, groaning where they’d fallen.
Quinn had no time to think. Julius was clearly not himself, and another second of choking might kill Marley.
“Julius!” she shouted.
He didn’t even glance at her, fingers tightening on Marley’s neck.
Marley’s complexion darkened, her struggles growing feeble.
“Julius!” Quinn rushed forward. “Whatever’s going on–let her go first!”
He acted as though he hadn’t heard her; his once–familiar dark eyes were now utterly unfocused.
Desperate, Quinn grabbed his arm, trying to pry his fingers loose. He did release Marley–only to swing at Quinn, attacking her instead.
“Julius, what’s wrong with you?” she cried, blocking his blows as best she could.
Yet he kept attacking, wild as a beast.
Quinn’s brows knit tight. She darted aside, evading the blow, then pivoted sharply and used her momentum to pin Julius against the wall. Just as she wondered whether to knock him out first, the madness in his eyes cleared a fraction.
“Quinn… Quinn…”
“It’s me!” Quinn answered.
At last, his long, slightly upturned eyes seemed to lock onto her face. He rasped, “The fragrance… tie my hands. Don’t let me hurt you…”
He sucked in ragged breaths, fighting to keep hold of his senses.
Is he drugged?
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. That scent… I noticed it on Marley when I tried to pry Julius’s fingers loose.
She yanked off Julius’s tie and bound his wrists.
Though pain contorted his features, he let her tie him without resistance.
“Once she had finished, Quinn braced Julius with one arm, then turned a blazing stare on Marley, who lay on the floor coughing so hard she could barely raise her head.
“What’s with that scent on you? What did you do to Julius?““u
Marley’s eyes flickered with guilt. “I–I did nothing, Quinn, stop accusing me!”
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