MainNovelChapter 99 Quentin had spent the entire night searching for his dog. It wasn't until just a few minutes ago that the people he'd sent out finally brought back snews: someone had spotted a large black dog, matching Biscuit's exact description, right outside the gates of Havencrest Preparatory Academy.
Without hesitation, Quentin jumped into his car and sped straight to the academy.
As soon as he pulled up outside, he saw his dog-his precious Biscuit-sitting obediently at the feet of a schoolgirl in uniform. The girl was giving him commands: first, she had Biscuit sit; then she made him stand; then, unbelievably, she had him spin in circles for her.
What really got under Quentin's skin was how his beloved, pampered dog- usually aloof and dignified—was now being bossed around like a performing monkey.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtFuming, Quentin marched over, teeth clenched and eyes blazing. "Hey! You dog thief! Is it fun making a gout of my dog?" Citrine, startled by his voice, spun around. For a moment, the two just stared at each other in surprise. "You?" Quentin was genuinely taken aback.
Citrine, dressed in her neat school uniform, looked every bit the picture-perfect heroine from a coming-of-age . Quentin couldn't help but glance at her a few times before finally remembering why he was here. "How did you manage to steal Biscuit?" Citrine frowned. "Steal? I didn't steal anything. He insisted on following me." Quentin shook his head incredulously. "That's impossible. Biscuit's always so standoffish-he never pays any attention to strangers, let alone follows them around." He wasn't lying. Normally, Biscuit would bark at any unfamiliar face, sometimes even scare people off. Honestly, he didn't even pay much attention to Quentin himself most of the time.
Ignoring Quentin, Citrine turned her attention to Biscuit. "Well, Biscuit, if you really wanted to follow me, bark twice." Quentin snorted. "You're talking to him? He can't possibly understand-" But before he could finish, Biscuit let out two clear barks.
Quentin's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me." Was his dog suddenly a genius or something? "Here, take your dog," Citrine said, unfazed by his reaction, and handed him the leash.
She turned to leave, but before Quentin could even process what had happened, Biscuit wriggled out of his collar and bounded after her.
Citrine had only taken a few steps when Biscuit grabbed hold of her pant leg, refusing to let go.
"Let go," Citrine said, exasperated. Was this dog as crazy as its owner? Shrugging helplessly, she glanced back at Quentin. "See? Your dog's the one glued to me. I didn't do anything." Quentin couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. His own dog had never shown him this much affection; now, in front of his very eyes, Biscuit was acting as if Citrine were his real owner.
"Biscuit, chere!" Quentin called, trying to sound commanding.
Biscuit didn't budge.
"I said, chere!" Quentin's frustration was palpable, his teeth grinding in irritation.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmBiscuit remained stubbornly in place.
Citrine watched the scene unfold, genuinely surprised. "Are you sure this is your dog?" she asked, for she'd never seen a pet ignore its owner so completely. "Of course he is," Quentin replied, glaring at Biscuit with wounded pride.
Citrine, still trying to free her pant leg, crouched down and gently pulled it from Biscuit's mouth. "Let go." At her command, Biscuit immediately released his grip.
Quentin was at a loss for words. "What did you do to my dog? Why does he listen to you and not to me? I'm supposed to be his owner." "I have no idea," Citrine said, looking innocent as ever.
She slipped the leash back over Biscuit's head and kanded it ftə m Quentin once more.
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