RedNovelChapter 97 Citrine hadn't even opened her mouth when a huge black dog suddenly burst through the doorway, charging straight at her.
She froze, breath caught in her throat, cold sweat instantly soaking her back. She couldn't move a muscle.
Before she could react, the dog lunged at her, knocking her hard to the floor.
"Ah!" Citrine yelped as her back hit the hardwood, pain shooting up her spine.
The dog was massive, its jaws bared in a snarl, one heavy paw pressing down on her chest. Citrine could barely breathe, the weight crushing the air out of her lungs.
The animal's face loomed inches from her own, and panic clawed at her throat. In a flash, memories from her nightmares snapped into focus-dark rooms, countless pairs of glowing green eyes staring her down, the rush of bodies, the stabbing pain as fangs tore through flesh. The terror she'd felt before, the cold agony of being bitten, washed over her again. Every drop of blood in her body seemed to freeze.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"Get off!" Citrine's voice was icy as she glared at the dog. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a fruit knife lying in the basket on the table.
Without thinking, she stretched out desperately, grabbed the knife, and swung it hard at the animal.
But a man's cold, sharp voice yanked her back to reality.
"What are you doing?" Quentin barked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back. His words were clipped, every syllable deliberate.
"Biscuit didn't mean any harm. Do you really need to freak out like this?" "You almost hurt Biscuit just now. What's wrong with you?" He shot her a wary look, shielding the dog behind him.
Citrine's gaze chilled.
She arched an eyebrow. "And you don't think it's cruel to let your mutt attack people?" Quentin faltered, guilt flickering across his face as he remembered his original plan. "You didn't have to grab a knife, though. What if you'd hurt him?" "And what if your dog had hurt me, and I didn't have anything to defend myself?" Citrine shot back, her eyes cold and edged with a flash of disgust.
Quentin had no answer for that.
He scratched his head awkwardly, mumbling, "He just looks scary, he'd never actually bite anyone." "I'm going home," Citrine said flatly. She wanted nothing more than to leave that place behind.
Quentin saw the look on her face and realized just how shaken she was; he didn't try to stop her. After she left, Quentin's frustration boiled over. He kicked a chair across the room, sending it skittering into the wall.
"Who the hell let Biscuit out just now?" he snapped at the others in the room.
Someone piped up nervously, "Sir, Biscuit slipped his leash and ran in. We tried to stop him, but he was too fast." Quentin had wanted to give Citrine a scare, but seeing her so genuinely frightened-so fragile-had made him rethink it. He hadn't expected Biscuit to burst in on his own, let alone terrify her.
Remembering the look of disgust she'd given him as she'd left, Quentin felt a wave of irritation.
Later that night, he met up with his buddies, hoping a few drinks would clear his head. But he'd barely been there ten minutes when his phone rang—a call from his bodyguard.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"Sir, the dog's gone." Quentin cursed loudly, then stormed out to search for Biscuit.
Meanwhile, Citrine had already arrived home.
To her surprise, the black dog had somehow followed her.
She'd barely stepped out of the cab when she spotted Biscuit sitting at the gate of her house, tail thumping against the driveway.
What on earth? How had that man's Catman's dog tracked her all the way here?
Citrine figured if Biscuit could follow her, he could probably find his way ve! home, too. She decided not to worry about it, and headed inside.
Visit our social media platform to read fascinating stories every day and connect with the community!
