<b>325 </b>Silent Questions
Chapter 325 Silent Questions
Quinn drew a steadying breath. “When I was alone with Leander Fane, my guard slipped for <b>a </b><b>moment </b>that’s all.”
“Do you think Leander is Rowan?” Han pressed.
“I don’t know.” Quinn said. “While we spoke, I used several covert signals only Rowan and I would recognize, but he showed no reaction.”
If Rowan were under watch or forced to hide his identity, he would still find a way to answer those <b>signals</b>.
hesitation.
Yet Leander gave her noto Blicker of recognition, 1
“And when I asked about where he’d been three years ago, he dodged the question,” she added.
Han’s eyes sharpened. “Then
e pull his DNA–hair, blood, anything–and settle it in ab.”
or
it won’t be that easy. The man rarely
Julius folded his arms. “Blood or hair means we have to drug him, fights, but don’t doubt his skill.”
Quinn weighed the options. DNA was decisive, yet hair had to be plucked–three to <b>five </b>strands with follicles intact, tweezers in sterile gloves. Drawing blood, of course, would be even more obvious.
Just as Julius warned, unless Leander volunteered or they incapacitated him, collecting either sample would be near impossible.
Still, an idea began to form, faint but insistent.
Quinn’s eyes sharpened with sudden resolve. Her voice, a soft yet startling de, cut through the tentative hush. “We could always strip him down.”
Han froze. “Strip him?”
Julius, however, caught on in a heartbeat. “You want to see whether there’s <b>a </b>scar on his shoulder?” Quinn dipped her chin, calm but unyielding. “If he really is Rowan, even amnesia can’t erase that scar.” That mark had been carved into Rowan’s flesh the night he threw himself between her and danger.
The memory of it still throbbed inside her like a hidden knife.
Elsewhere, Leander settled into a velvet couch beneath muted lights, his gaze fixed on the handkerchief resting in his palms.
Moments earlier, that square of fabric had brushed tears from Quinn’s cheeks; the damp traces now glimmered like ghosts against the weave.
His fingertips grazed the faint stains, and an inexplicable heaviness pooled in his chest.
Serena wrinkled her nose. “Leander, that cloth touched her face. It’s filthy<i>–</i>just <b>toss </b>it, okay?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Leander replied, voice steady <b>as </b>still water.
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Chapter <b>325 </b>Silent Questions
Serena muttered, “Why not? Women like her who flirt with every man are disgusting. I <b>can’t </b><b>imagine </b>what Julius is thinking, dating someone like that.”
“Serena, I offered the handkerchief. And I’ve told you–she isn’t that kind of woman,” Leander said<i>. </i>
The look she’d given him hadn’t been hungry or calcting. It had felt like yearning for family
Pure. Deep. Unmistakable.
<i>Was </i><i>she </i>staring <i>through </i>me, searching <i>for </i><i>someone who </i>shared my <i>face</i><i>? </i>
After all, she had said he resembled a man she once knew.
Who is that man, and what <i>story </i><i>did </i><i>he </i><i>carry</i><i>? </i>
The question stabbed him with sudden pain. He pressed a palm to his temple.
Serena’s tone softened. “Leander, your head again
“Yeah,” he said.
“Let’s get back to the hotel. You can take your meds. We’re flying home in a week, and Dr. Reid can check you then.”
Leander managed a short nod.
At the hotel, Serena rattled a pill bottle, shook two into her palm, and passed them over.
He swallowed them with a gulp of water.
“Serena, about the ident three years ago–are you sure nothing from my past survived?” he asked suddenly.
She sighed. “If anything had made it through, I’d have given it to you long ago. Even if you lost everything, you’re still Leander Fane, and I’m the only sister you’ve got.”
“Right. The only sister,” he murmured, letting his eyes close.
Yet the image flickering behind his lids was Quinn, her face awash in tears.
Night had fallen, and Leandery on the bed, yet sleep clung to him like a fever–restless, fragile, never quite deep enough to heal.
The world inside his dream was burning. mes roared across the horizon, licking at his skin until <b>every </b>nerve screamed.
Yet he would not die. He must not die here, swallowed by this inferno. Faces waited beyond the fir people he still had to meet<b>, </b>souls/he had sworn to guard.
He clung to that promise, telling himself again and again that, whatever it cost, he had to stay alive.
A razor–sharp surge of instinct mmed through him. He snapped awake, heart punching against his ribs. Someone had slipped into the room and left the lights off.
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Chapter <b>325 </b>Silent Questions
<b>That </b>ruled out Serena.
Then who is it?
The mattress dipped as the intruder crept closer. Leander exploded upward, a coiled spring suddenly unleashed. driving his fist toward the shadow.
The stranger’s palm rose in a clean block, absorbing the blow with trained precision.
“Mr. Fane.” A woman’s voice cut through the dark, low but steady, “it’s Quinn Bridger.”
He yanked his arm away. “Quinn? Ms. Bridger?”
“Yes,” she said.
The overheadmp blinked alive, flooding the room with stark, unforgiving brightness.
Leander studied her, brow furrowing. “Ms. Bridger, you need to exin yourself for breaking into <b>my </b>room at this hour.”