Chapter 263 A House Of Heroes
Chapter 263 A House Of Heroes
But the desperate craving in his kiss robbed her of the strength to push him away.
At last, after what felt like an endless plunge, he broke the kiss. Gasping, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered in her ear, “Quinn, please–don’t abandon me.”
She let out a soft laugh. “You silly man, why would I ever abandon you?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line, then muttered, “Exactly. You never will. No one on this earth could possibly love you more than I do.”
Another sleepless night left its traces. The next morning, as Quinn and Laura arrived at the bidding session, Laura eyed the high–collared blouse hiding Quinn’s neck and teased, “Rough night?”
Color rushed to Quinn’s cheeks. Julius, she reflected, had devoured her like a starving beast, insatiable no matter how much she surrendered; more than once, she half–suspected he had dosed himself with something illicit.
Her stamina was formidable, yet by dawn, her limbs felt ready to fall apart. Then again, there would never be anyone else; Julius had told her she was his first, and she believed him.
“Tell me,” Quinn asked under her breath, “is it normal for a man, once he’s had his first taste, to want it all the time?”
“Probably.” Laura thought of Weston. Back when she had dated him, once the two of them had crossed. that line, he had been equally uncontrollable, respectable façade by day, ravenous predator by night.
Wait a second.
“Hold on—you mean Julius has never… been with another woman before you?”
Quinn answered with a nod, and Laura swallowed
So it’s true. Julius Whitethorn–of all men–had never slept with anyone before Quinn. That’s far more innocent than I ever imagined. If I told anyone, they’d never believe me.
Laura patted Quinn’s shoulder with mock solemnity. “You have my sympathies.”
The gesture made Quinn burst into giggles.
“When this wraps up, come with me to church,” Laura said.
“The church? Why?” Quinn asked.
“To pray and ward off bad luck,” Laura replied.
In just a few short days, she had run into Weston three times twice with Harlan, which was totally unfortunate.
Laura had chosen a celebrated church in Jexburgh.
They had just gone in and sat down when a shrill voice cut through the hush. “Quinn Bridger, what on
earth are you doing here?”
She looked up and saw Penelope and her daughter, Jacinda.
“Anyone can come to pray,” Quinn said evenly. “Why should I be the exception?”
“Someone like you wants to pray?” Jacinda scoffed, eyes full of scorn. “You have piled up so much karma that even the heavens won’t answer your prayers. That is why your brother vanished. Retribution, plain and simple.”
“My goodness, Jacinda, where did your family learn its manners?” Laura snapped, livid. “How can you spew such venom?”
“My daughter spoke the truth. Why else would her brother be missing all these years?” Penelope said, standing firmly at Jacinda’s side.
Laura opened her mouth to hurl another string of curses, but Quinn lifted a hand, silently telling her to stand down.
Quinn fixed Jacinda with an icy stare and closed the distance one measured step at a time. “What did you just say? Say it again,” she ordered.
“I can repeat it as many times as you like. Your wicked deeds doomed you to lose that brother of yours. Even God will not help you,” Jacinda said, chin cocked defiantly.
Thud!
Quinn drove her boot into Jacinda’s knee with ruthless precision.
Jacinda collapsed, both knees slamming against the stone floor. She found herself kneeling before Quinn like a penitent.
Jacinda screamed. She tried to get up, but Quinn pressed one hand onto her shoulder and held her down.
Though it was only a single hand, Jacinda felt as if a mountain had settled on her shoulders. She strained repeatedly, yet could not rise.
“How dare you treat my daughter that way!” Penelope shouted, swinging her palm at Quinn, but Laura caught her wrist mid–air.
She met Penelope’s glare unflinchingly. “Your daughter is the one courting retribution.”
Penelope clawed at Laura, and Laura did not hesitate to fight back. The two women tussled in the church. Panicked, Jacinda cried, “Quinn, let me go, now!”
Quinn’s eyes remained as cold as ice. “I want you to kneel and confess
your
sin right now.”
“Why should I?” Jacinda snarled, face flushing crimson.
Quinn’s reply cracked through the courtyard like a rifle shot. “Because the entire Bridger line is soaked in loyalty and sacrifice. My ancestors died for this nation. My parents died for it. My brother vanished in its service. Every choice I make honours heaven, this land, and its people. So tell me, Jacinda, what wicked thing do you claim I have done?”
Her words rang with steel, yet beneath them lay a sorrow so deep the air itself seemed to bow. A house of heroes, and she alone remained.
The tourists who had been ready to intervene halted at once, frozen by the force of her declaration.
