The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress

Chapter 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.

"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.

wrist and

mean any harm. Do you

now. What's wrong with you?" He shot her a wary look,

Citrine's gaze chilled.

you don't think it's cruel to let your mutt

his original plan. "You didn't have to grab a knife, though. What if

hurt me, and I didn't have anything to defend myself?" Citrine shot back, her eyes cold and edged with

no

just looks scary, he'd never

Citrine said flatly. She wanted nothing

look on her face and realized just how shaken she was; he didn't

she left, Quentin's frustration boiled over. He kicked a chair

hell let Biscuit out just now?" he snapped at the others

"Sir, Biscuit slipped his leash and ran in. We

genuinely frightened—so fragile-had made him rethink

him as she'd left, Quentin felt a wave

a few drinks would clear his head. But he'd barely been there ten minutes when his phone rang—a call from