Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja) novel Chapter 1487

Phil lounged beside him on the deck chair; the glass cradled in his hand was not filled with red wine, but with the celebratory fizz of champagne.

"Man, if it were me, I'd just blow the whole damn island."

Phil never was one for leaving loose ends, but he respected his brother's every decision.

They were twins, after all, and he'd grown accustomed to being his brother's shadow.

Taking a leisurely sip from the flute, he let the moment linger.

"What's the fun in that? Quentin's likely in there too. If he gets caught in the blast, the organization will be even more of a headache."

Though the third Elder was captured, the other elders were still out and about.

These two stubborn old goats were in the same boat, and the elusive Quentin hiding out on Forbidden Island. That left only seven elders on their side within the BK faction.

With a force as formidable as BK, if three elders were to gang up against him, it would be a significant nuisance.

So, if they could make it persuading Quentin to join forces, that was the move to make.

Besides, Quentin had a key partner in the research base.

His ultimate goal wasn't BK, but that very research base.

Since Quentin was chummy with certain folks at the base, it was only natural to have a heart-to-heart with him first.

But the kid was stubborn; he wouldn’t bend unless he was thoroughly convinced. Only in that case could a real dialogue take place.

Today, they had to take him alive.

Not just Quentin, but Maja and Ian, and the long-hidden Holy Daughter.

The existence of the Holy Daughter had always been a thorn in K’s heart.

Indeed he had been brought back by the Holy Daughter, but his fate had been orchestrated by others long before.

His gaze drifted toward the horizon, and his thoughts trailed off to the past.

Back in the day within the BK organization, he'd thought Cynthia held him in high regard and would groom him to be her successor.

He'd worked tirelessly for her approval, always going the extra mile.

But he was aware of his difference from the rest.

"Yes, I used this to do the job."

He brandished the scalpel with pride.

Among the dissected was a cat, who was nurtured within the organization, tame and beloved, but what of it?

"Slap!"

Cynthia's hand struck his face, her eyes wide with shock.

"Who taught you to do this? Phelps, this cat was injured, and I've been nursing it back to health. Who gave you the right to kill it?"

"It showed me its claws, shouldn't it be killed for that?"

He lied. Realizing Cynthia's anger, he scrambled to justify his actions.

The cat had never swiped at him; it was always gentle, even when he cut into it.

He had always reveled in the domination of the weaker being, and in that moment, he felt exposed by Cynthia's gaze.