Chapter 87

When Citrine stepped out of the café, night had already fallen.

She was about to call her driver when, at the intersection ahead, she saw a black SUV collide head-on with a massive truck. The front of the SUV crumpled under the impact, thick black smoke billowing from the engine.

Within seconds, a crowd gathered at the intersection-most people standing back to gawk, none daring to approach the wreck.

Citrine slipped her phone back into her purse and pushed her way into the throng.

As soon as she made it to the front, she recognized a familiar face through the shattered rear window.

Her expression changed in an instant. Determined, she shoved aside the people blocking her way and forced herself through.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" she shouted before she got to the smoking SUV, her voice cutting through the buzz of the crowd.

Someone finally snapped out of their stupor.

"Hurry, call emergency services! If you wait, someone could die!"

reach the car, a bystander yelled at

smoking—it could

better stay away, it's

a kid-don't do

man inside. If he doesn't get help

that, she strode right

and smashed the glass at

leg pinned under the

working inch by

tight, and though Citrine was young, her strength was starting to fail her. Within minutes,

across his usually stern features when he

He forced his eyes open, that familiar icy composure now

didn't look at him, focusing all her effort

the way her hands shook and, without another word, did as she said-drawing in slow, steady

She pressed her handkerchief to the wound to stop the

eased Weston out and propped his

got some strength left, old man?" she asked, glancing back at

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