Chapter 314 Face Behind The Doors
Chapter 314 Face Behind The Doors
Quinn halted mid–stride and, following the woman’s stare, turned toward the clevator bank.
A bell chimed softly. The doors parted, and the man at the front of the small entourage stepped inside with unhurried grace.
Quinn caught a single glimpse of his profile before the others closed in around him.
The sight struck her like a jolt of electricity; she froze where she stood. Even at that distance–nothing but a sharp–edged silhouette–heat roared through her veins, an unmistakable recognition she could neither name nor deny.
That’s… Rowan!
Her eyes flew wide. Before caution could steady her, she lunged toward the elevator shaft, legs pumping hard.
“Wait!”
Two security guards stationed by the doors shifted instantly, arms crossing to bar her path.
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the clamor. She pivoted, drove a sharp elbow into one guard’s stomach, then swept the other aside with a practiced twist.
The elevator doors slid together with infuriating calm. In that final sliver of space, Rowan’s face was suddenly there–eyes on her, expression unreadable–before steel swallowed the view.
He had looked at her the way one would glance at a passerby on a busy street–blank, indifferent, gone.
A shard of doubt sliced through her certainty. Could she have chased the wrong man?
The man in the lift wore a tailored suit that screamed wealth and status, nothing like the Rowan she remembered.
His features, too, seemed sharper, older, as though five years had carved entire seasons into his face.
Yet truth mattered more than doubt; she had to know.
She watched the indicator lights descend–three, two,
Bene–before freezing at the ground floor.
Quinn whirled and sprinted for the stairwell, breath ragged in her chest.
Bursting into the lobby, she caught sight of the suited figure already striding toward the exit, flanked by several attendants.
No. I can’t lose him again.
She broke into a run, every muscle tightening like a drawn bow.
“Stop her–she’s taken down our men!” A panicked voice sliced through the casino’s din.
A dozen black–jacketed security guards surged forward, fists raised, their polished shoes hammering the
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Chapter 814 Face Behind The Doors
marble like rolling thunder.
Quinn spun into them, every move crisp and exact, yet sheer numbers–combined with the guards disciplined training–pressed her on all sides.
Within seconds, the gaming floor dissolved into a whirl of limbs, overturned chairs, and startled gamblers scrambling out of range.
Strangely, the commotion failed to register with the man ahead; he kept walking, oblivious, his broad back already slipping beyond the rows of slot machines.
Watching that silhouette fade, despair crashed through Quinn like a rip tide–it looked so much like
Rowan.
Am I truly about to miss my brother again?
If this chance slipped away, who knows how many moons would pass before our paths cross once more?
She did not even know for certain that the stranger was Rowan, yet hope clung to her ribs like thorns.
A steel–hard fist smashed into her shoulder, yanking her mind back to the fight.
She staggered three steps, blocked another incoming blow, but a punch from behind found her undefended spine.
Bang!
The crack of knuckles meeting flesh rang out–yet the expected pain never arrived.
Harlan had slipped between her and the attacker, his forearm absorbing the strike.
“Quinnie, what on earth is going on?” he asked, voice low but taut.
She fired back in the burr of Yarburn, “I just saw Rowan.”
During their years with the Falcon Special Forces, Quinn would sometimes chatter in Yarburn drawl with hometown soldiers, so Harlan had picked up the basics.
Now he grasped why the usually cautious Quinn had thrown caution to the wind.
Seeing the guards bunch their shoulders to charge again, Harlan drew a gleaming Black Gold Card from his pocket.
Inside this casino, that card was a crown.
“Gentlemen, misunderstanding, that’s all,” Harlan announced, letting the card catch the overhead lights.
“Misunderstanding or not,” the lead guard snapped, “even a Black Gold Card VIP obeys house rules. Take
them!”
Harlan’s brow tightened.
Right then, Julius‘ velveted baritone sliced down. “Are you still going to take them if I say they’re my friends?”
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