His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 162

Whitley's pupils shrank, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

"Watch out!"

A sharp, desperate shout sliced through the chaos.

Before Whitley could even process the danger, a powerful force yanked her hard into a solid, warm chest.

A suppressed groan rumbled from the man above her.

When her senses finally aligned, she realized Clive Sherwood was caging her against the ground. The panicked stallion had rammed into them, sending them flying several feet across the rough dirt before they crashed down hard.

A few yards away, the sheer force of the collision had sent Yelena sprawling to the ground as well. The arena dissolved into absolute pandemonium.

Pale and frantic, the staff swarmed the track, fighting to restrain the thrashing horse.

Her heart pounding violently against her ribs, Whitley hurriedly pushed herself up off Clive's chest. The moment she lifted her head, she collided with his gaze—eyes so dark and churning with fury that the air around them seemed to freeze.

Her breath hitched.

He was a man of infinite restraint, rarely letting his emotions show. But the sheer violence and hostility storming in his eyes right now was something she had never witnessed.

Her gaze drifted downward, and her blood ran cold.

The thick fabric of his equestrian jacket had been shredded by the abrasive ground. The deep, jagged wound on his arm was hemorrhaging blood, and his back had been brutally scraped raw, a terrifying mess of torn flesh.

"You're hurt..." her voice broke, raspy and tight.

But Clive's eyes remained frigid. He offered zero emotion, zero response.

In that shattering second, the truth clicked.

He had saved the wrong person.

She and Yelena had been standing shoulder-to-shoulder, similar in build, wearing nearly identical riding gear. In the split-second chaos, mistaking one for the other was the most logical explanation in the world.

Of course.

The fall had terrified her out of her mind. Between the fear and the shock, she looked incredibly fragile.

Clive's expression instantly went glacial, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly low octave. "Don't move. I'm calling an ambulance."

A staff member frantically interjected, "Sir, the gash on your arm is incredibly deep. You're losing too much blood. We need to bandage you immediately—"

Clive acted as if the man hadn't spoken. His eyes remained anchored on Yelena as he barked, "Treat her first."

Terrified to disobey, the medical staff immediately dropped to Yelena's side to assess her.

Standing nearby, Leroy saw how pale Yelena was and instantly redirected all his fury at Whitley. He pointed a trembling finger at her, screaming, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't been standing there, Yelena wouldn't have fallen! And Clive wouldn't have saved the wrong person! You did this on purpose! You're a monster!"

Whitley's breath stalled. She looked at Leroy, a chilling numbness washing over her.

He was a stranger. Completely and utterly unrecognizable.

"Leroy," Clive barked, his voice dripping with lethal warning. "Shut up."