Divorce The Duke, Marry The King!
Chapter 51: Can we start over again?

Chapter 51: Can we start over again?

"It is far too late to seek the truth," Izabelle murmured, her head bowed and her voice tinged with weariness.

"Kill me and be done with it." Though she spoke with resignation, the pain threaded through her words was unmistakable. For the first time, she seemed burdened with guilt, as though offering him a final reason to end her life. He despised taking lives devoid of remorse, knowing such actions only added weight to his already heavy soul.

"And what of Belle?" He asked, his voice low but sharp. "Do you feel no guilt for trapping her in a revenge she never deserved?"

Izabelle’s lips curled into a bitter smile. "Guilt, you say? If she were not so trusting, she would have escaped the simplest of my traps. Yes, I pity her. Yet, thanks to me, she now stands in the arms of a man who will cherish her as you never could. You do not deserve her, Quinn!" Her words came as venom, each one meant to wound.

Before she could continue, Quinn’s hand shot out, gripping her throat with unrelenting force. "You will not dictate to me who is worthy of Belle’s love," he hissed, his grip tightening. "Mark my words, you will not live to witness me reclaim her. Yet, when I do, perhaps we shall visit your grave together as a jesting tribute."

With a single movement, he released her, and she fell to the floor, crumpled like discarded parchment. Without sparing her a second glance, he strode out of the dungeon, his rage simmering beneath his composed exterior.

Belle was his, and his alone. No power, mortal or divine, would part them. Even if she were bound to Hezekiah by law or oath, he would find a way. Should the world oppose him, he would simply take her and flee, for she was his anchor, the singular light in the consuming dark.

"Since you are determined to investigate further..." Izabelle began, her voice trailing off as Ray stepped forward, his sword flashing to her throat.

"You have said more than enough," he interrupted coldly. "We shall uncover the remainder of the truth ourselves." With a sharp nod to the guards, he added, "Lock her away."

The guards obeyed, their movements quick and unsteady, as though her presence alone weighed heavy upon them. Ray, however, lingered only long enough to glance toward Quinn’s retreating figure before hurrying after him.

By the time he reached the stables, Quinn was already astride his horse, his bloodstained garments a stark warning of his wrath. Ray cursed under his breath. There was no mistaking Quinn’s destination.

When Ray finally arrived at the castle gates, Quinn had dismounted and was striding toward the entrance.

"Your Grace, you cannot enter in such a state..." one of the guards began, stepping forward in an attempt to block his path.

Quinn’s icy gaze fell upon him, and with a mere flick of his hand, the guard collapsed, unconscious, crumpling like a leaf in the wind.

The other guards exchanged fearful glances and, recognizing the futility of resistance, stepped aside. Confronting the Duke now would be akin to courting death itself. Instead, they hurried to summon the King’s knight, the only man bold, or foolish enough to intercede.

Unbothered by the chaos in his wake, Quinn continued his path to Belle’s chambers. His cold, penetrating stare cut through the castle’s servants like a blade, sending them scurrying to the shadows. For many, this was their first glimpse of the Duke consumed by wrath, and they knew well enough to keep their distance from such a force of nature.

When Quinn reached the entrance of Belle’s room, he placed his hand on the doorknob, only to find it locked. Without hesitation, he forced the door open, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the room as he stepped inside.

Belle, in the middle of changing into her nightdress, froze. She clutched her half-exposed chest with trembling hands, her wide, fearful eyes locking onto him. Her heart raced, and instinctively, she took a step back. The man before her looked untamed, like a storm ready to unleash destruction. And why was his garments bloody? Was he here to end it all? To kill her?

Quinn’s gaze never wavered as he strode toward her, his expression unreadable but intense.

"Don’t come near me!" She cried, raising one hand as if to ward him off. Tears welled in her eyes, her voice trembling. Was this it? Was this the day her life ended by the hand of her mate?

He ignored her plea, continuing his approach until there was scarcely a breath of space between them.

"Have you come to kill me, then?" She asked, her voice breaking as a tear slipped down her cheek.

To her shock, Quinn reached out and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb. The unexpected tenderness made her flinch, her face twisting in confusion.

"I am sorry," he said softly.

The room fell silent, the tension heavy in the air as they stared at each other. Belle was frozen in disbelief, her mind racing to make sense of his words. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Surely this was a cruel trick, a game he played to torment her further.

"What..." she stammered, swallowing hard. "What did you just say?" Her voice was barely a whisper, laden with disbelief. Why would a man as arrogant and unyielding as Quinn apologize? Surely, she was imagining things.

Quinn’s gaze softened. "Belle, can we start over again?" He asked, his tone filled with sincerity.

Her hands fell to her sides as she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "I am not in the mood for your games, Quinn. Don’t mess with my head."

But Quinn stepped closer, erasing the remaining space between them. His voice dropped, laden with emotion. "Belle, I am sorry for everything, for not believing you, for hurting you, for losing you." His words were a confession, each one striking her like a blow.

The weight of his apology was too much. Her knees gave way, but before she could collapse, Quinn caught her, holding her firmly.

It all felt like a dream—a cruel, bittersweet dream. For so long, she had yearned for these words, for this moment of truth, yet now that it was here, it felt unreal.

"Why now?" She asked, tears streaming freely down her face. Her voice trembled with the pain of all the hardships she had endured. Her gaze searched his, filled with questions, hurt, and disbelief.

Quinn’s chest tightened as if her tears were daggers piercing his heart. He had no words to ease her anguish, only the regret of a man who had realized too late what he had lost.

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