Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 490

"Heh... it's over. It's all over..."

In the dim room, an unshaven Quentin was sprawled across the sofa.

Expensive liquor bottles rolled across the floor. Reeking of alcohol, his unfocused eyes stared ahead as he let out a series of chilling, hollow laughs.

"I accounted for every variable... but I never calculated that after being gone for so long, she could still command such terrifying forces." Over and over in his mind, like a nightmare on a loop, played the scene: that woman, dressed in black, standing atop the steel beast, coldly watching as a century of the Quincy family's legacy crumbled into dust.

"Quentin! We haven't lost yet!" Isabella shoved the door open, striding over the mess with crazed defiance burning in her eyes. "As long as we're alive, there's a chance to turn the tables!"

"Isabella, stop lying to yourself... there's no chance." Quentin squeezed his eyes shut in despair, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "More than ten years ago, I gave everything I had and still couldn't beat her. Now, I locked her up for over a decade, thinking I pulled her fangs... and what happened?"

He violently yanked at his own hair, letting out a dying wail from his throat:

"That woman... she isn't human! She's a monster!!"

"I'm just a mortal. How am I supposed to fight a monster?!"

Isabella sucked in a sharp breath. She lunged forward, grabbed Quentin by the collar, and hauled him forcefully off the sofa, screaming hysterically: "Quentin! Pull yourself together! When I say we haven't lost, we haven't lost!!"

Quentin was forced to tilt his head back, meeting his sister's bloodshot, paranoid gaze.

He managed a bleak, ugly smile:

"Isabella... you aren't me. You will never understand the suffocating despair of having that monster standing right in front of you."

A sharp slap suddenly echoed in the empty room.

Quentin grabbed his quickly swelling cheek, bloodshot rage instantly igniting in his eyes, but a second later, that aggression deflated like a punctured tire.

He slumped back onto the sofa, his voice raspy. "Hit me. Hit me as hard as you want. Right now, I'm just a useless piece of trash anyway."

"Quentin, I finally understand why you lost to Yara St. Claire!" Isabella's chest heaved as she glared at him with absolute frustration. "Because you are a coward in your bones! As long as we're breathing, the game isn't over!"

She slammed her hands onto the table, leaning into her brother's space. "So what if Yara swallowed half our assets? Did you forget about someone?"

Quentin looked up blankly. "Who?"

"Of course you couldn't find him, because he completely changed his identity." A sharp glint flashed in Isabella's eyes. "He goes by Charles Cross now."

Quentin's hands trembled with excitement as he fiercely wiped his face. "How did you find this out?"

Isabella grabbed a half-empty bottle of hard liquor from the table and took a massive swig, the burning liquid making her eyes tear up. "The people who hijacked Nathan from us last time weren't Yara's men, nor were they Phoenix's. They were a mysterious syndicate from overseas."

She slammed the bottle down. "I tracked them down. That group belongs to an organization called The L.I.N. Syndicate. Following that trail, I dropped a fortune on black market intel and finally learned that their leader is Charles Cross.

At first, I didn't think much of it, until I got my hands on a secret photo of him. Even if he burned to ashes, I'd recognize that face. It's Callum Cross!"

A fanatical fire completely reignited in Quentin's eyes.

There was always a way out! As long as they could cling to Callum Cross, they could use him to take back everything the Quincy family had lost, with interest!

"Let's go! We're leaving to find him right now!" he abruptly stood up.

"The routes and the funds are ready. We can leave immediately," Isabella replied grimly.