Chapter 20

Third Person's POV

Kelsey's words were an attempt to distance himself from Patience.

At the restaurant, she had offended Cyrus by pointing a toy gun at him.

Additionally, both BlueTech and Hoffman Tech were vying for the Gross family's investment in the drone sector, making them rivals.

By denigrating Patience, Kelsey aimed to undermine BlueTech's credibility.

Patience watched Kelsey with cold detachment.

After three years of dedication to his company, she was dismissed as an "ordinary employee."

"Is that so?" Cyrus's tone was neutral, his face inscrutable.

Hazel then spoke up, "Ms. Hammond, I know you want to help Patience impress Mr. Gross, but there's no need to fabricate her identity."

"What fabrication? While Patience was researching drones, you were probably still playing with toy planes!" Yvette retorted.

"Can she name any patents or projects in the drone field?" Hazel challenged.

Yvette was speechless.

Patience's past drone research had been confidential.

"So, nothing to declare?" Hazel smirked. "Lying has its place, but this isn't it."

Allies of the Bluemoon Pack joined in the mockery.

Infuriated, Yvette seethed, but Patience coolly said, "The truth will out."

"Stubborn as ever," Hazel sneered.

At that moment, a sleek black horse was led over.

"Mr. Gross, this horse is a gift from Bluemoon. It's already been tamed," Winston said ingratiatingly. "Why not give it a try?"

Cyrus glanced at the horse indifferently, showing no interest in riding it.

The atmosphere turned awkward.

"I'll ride it for Mr. Gross," Hazel volunteered, eager to impress.

Since Patience had managed to make Cyrus remember her with her unconventional actions at the restaurant last time, she could do it again now.

Winston quickly chimed in, "Sure! Hazel's horsemanship is excellent!"

Seeing that Cyrus didn't object, Hazel leaped onto the horse, kicked its flanks with her legs, and galloped off.

Those around who were on good terms with Bluemoon kept praising her.

"Ms. Cook not only flies planes but also rides horses so skillfully."

"Her riding skills are so impressive, she could compete in races."

Yvette leaned in and muttered to Patience, "All show, no substance."

Kelsey overheard and said, "Hazel is a truly free-spirited and independent woman, unlike you who always belittle others. Patience, instead of using your friend to badmouth her, focus on bettering yourself."

"A truly independent woman wouldn't flirt with a mated man," Patience shot back.

Kelsey, livid but restrained by the setting, could only fume.

Hazel, after her display, began to trot back.

As she approached the crowd, she pulled the reins to slow the horse.

Instead of slowing, the horse sped up.

As the distance to the crowd closed, Hazel grew more panicked.

Neither commands nor yanking the reins could slow the horse down.

In her fluster, one of her feet slipped out of the stirrup, leaving her in a disheveled state.

"Ah!" Hazel screamed. She had completely lost control of the horse.

The crowd, who had just been praising Hazel's horsemanship, scattered in an instant as the horse charged towards them.

Patience quickly pulled Yvette out of the horse's path.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cyrus still standing there, unmoving, while Hazel on the out-of-control black horse was getting closer and closer.

If this continued, Cyrus would definitely be hit.

Being knocked down by a horse at such speed could result in serious injury or even death.

Patience sprinted towards Cyrus, hugged him with astonishing power, and rolled them both to the side.

Amidst the crowd's screams, the two of them narrowly avoided the galloping horse's hooves.

Winston breathed a sigh of relief—had Cyrus been hurt, the Bluemoon Pack would have faced grave consequences.

Patience panted, her chest heaving as she held Cyrus's weight.

The scent of cedar and leather enveloped her, mingled with a faint hint of Lycan heritage.

"Cyrus, are you hurt?" she asked, her voice labored with concern. Her nape warmed with worry.

Cyrus remained motionless, his breath grazing her ear.

The scent of fir wound around her senses like a vine.

Could it be that he had been kicked by the horse during their tumble?

But he belonged to Mandala and possessed a powerful Lycan bloodline—how could he be injured so easily?

Patience, driven by instinct, wanted to check for injuries.

As she tried to rise, a firm aura pinned her back to the grass—a deliberate, overpowering force.