Chapter 374 The p

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    Chapter 374 The p

    Leander went sheet–white, as though every drop of blood had abandoned his face in the blink of an eye.

    Parents. If Quinn were truly his sister, then somewhere out there, he must have had parents.

    Yet she spoke of paying respects, of graves.

    Does ithat /iimean /iithey /iiwere /iialready /iigone/ii? /iA sharp, inexplicable pain squeezed his heart, each throb urging him toward a truth he could not remember.

    “Where… are they buried?” The question crawled up from the bottom of his throat.

    “They’re in Yarburn,” Quinn answered softly.

    “I…” Leander’s lips moved, but the rest refused to surface.

    “He’s not going!” Serena hooked her arm around Leander’s elbow before he could speak. “Say no to her, or after we return home, I will not go to the hospital for Lena.”

    Leander’s free hand curled into a fist so tight his knuckles whitened.

    He was a man without memories. Even if those people truly were his parents, he could not picture their faces.

    So why did his heart feel as though someone drove a spike through it every time Quinn spoke? The ache carried grief, regret, and a crushing guilt he could neither

    name nor escape.

    “The Fane family’s stay in Jexburgh is brief. We simply do not have the time. Ms. Bridger, please ask for something else,” said Leander, forcing the words out.

    “You refuse to honor our parents?” Quinn asked, her voice trembling with hurt. “Do you realize how they suffered after you disappeared on the border? Even in their final call to me, they worried only about you. Don’t you owe them at least a

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    Chapter 374 The p

    word of reassurance at their graves?”

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    Leander’s shoulders shook, the pain in his chest ring until even the rush of blood seemed to burn.

    He stared at her, words grinding out between clenched teeth. “I told you—I am Leander Fane.”

    Quinn’s gaze dimmed, a bruised shadow passing over her eyes, and she could not decide whether the hollow inside her chest was simple disappointment or something closer to grief.

    The Leander who stood in front of her was a photograph bleached of color, a brother in shape only—his memories erased, his history scrubbed clean.

    If the real Leander–the Leander who remembered–were here, he would never have let such careless words slip past his lips. In his heart, their parents were more than parents; they were living, breathing legends. Their example had driven him into uniform, had spurred him to ept mission after mission, never mind the danger.

    She wondered, almost afraid of her own question, what that true Leander would do if the news of their deaths reached him.

    Would he break idown/i, isobbing /iiwithout /iishame/ii? /iiOr /iiwould /iihe /iisprint /iistraight /iito /iitheir /igraves?

    ―

    “You know how ridiculous you look right now, Quinn Bridger?” Serena sneered, her chin tilted in scorn. “Tell me what are your parents, exactly? You actually think your precious Leander should go pay respects to them? How pathetic. Maybe their graves are iso /ilonely they’ll take anyone, even him, to kneel there.”

    Smack!

    Quinn’s palm sliced through the air andnded, vicious and precise, against Serena’s cheek. The crack ricocheted off the ss fa?ade of Whitethorn Tower like a gunshot.

    “Y–You–you actually hit me?” Serena gasped, one hand flying to her stinging face as disbelief pooled in her eyes.

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    Chapter 374 The p

    “Why wouldn’t I?” Quinn asked, her voice forged from ice.

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    To her, her mom and dad were a sacred line no one crossed. They had died for their country–martyrs whose names deserved reverence, never the filth that now dripped from Serena’s mouth.

    “My parents are not yours to insult,” she warned, each word edged in frost.

    A chill crept up Serena’s spine; instinct begged her to keep silent.

    Yet pride, loud as a siren, refused to let her back down.

    She was a daughter of the Fane family–how could she yield to someone like Quinn?

    “So what if I talk about them?” Serena hissed. “Anyone who raised a brute like you couldn’t have been much good to begin with.”

    iThud/ii! /i

    Quinn’s boot mmed into Serena’s abdomen, hurling her backward like a rag doll.

    She struck the stone wall of the building with a sickening thump, then crumpled to the pavement in a tangled heap.

    Across the courtyard, security guards spotted themotion and started toward them, radios crackling at their belts.

    “You… You wretched witch,” Serena coughed, one arm wrapped around her ribs. “Treat me like this and you’ll regret it. I swear I won’t let you off!”

    “Listen well,” Quinn said, advancing with lethal calm. “Every time you utter one vile word about my parents, I’ll hit you once. Say it twice, I hit you twice. Keep counting.”

    “You disgusting–your parents-” Serena tried again, stubborn spite still clinging to

    her tongue.

    Chapter 374 The p

    Quinn’s hand shot up, ready to deliver another punishing arc.

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    But another hand intercepted her mid–swing, fingers mping around her wrist with iron restraint.

    It was Leander.

    “You’re stopping me?” Quinn whispered, shock ring like lightning in her eyes.

    The Leander she once knew would have done the punishing himself, leaving the offender in far worse shape.

    Leander lifted a cating hand. “My sister spoke out of turn. This is her fault, not yours. Ms. Bridger, there’s no need to batter someone who cannot lift a hand in defense.”

    Laura snapped, her voice edged with fury. “Sister? Rowan, open your eyes–Quinn is your sister!”

    Leander turned back toward Quinn, disappointment flickering across his usually unreadable eyes. He said nothing at first, simply standing between the two women like a wall that refused ito /icrumble. “Enough,” he murmured. “Don’t raise your hand to her again.”

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    Chapter 375 Insulting A Martyr