Celeste’s POV
No one could tell me guardian angels didn’t exist.
Mine rushed into the fitting room, grabbed my wrist to pull me out of the way of the vase hurtling towards my face. His tall frame shielded my body as he raised his left arm to block.
The ear-splitting shatter of glass made my heart pound, followed by the screams of other customers.
“Celeste, are you alright?” Ryan asked over his shoulder, his eyes darting across my body frantically.
His arm was still raised, and I gasped at the scarlet stain that was quickly growing on his shirt’s sleeve. The vase must have broken against his forearm.
“You’re hurt,” I cried out, rushing to assess his wound.
But he suddenly wrenched me back behind him.
Vanessa shrieked, searching for the next object to throw at my head. Finding nothing, she launched herself at me, trying to claw her way past Ryan.
“Officers coming through! Clear the way!” loud, commanding voices sounded outside the fitting rooms.
Vanessa’s eyes widened, and she pulled he
