He's afraid of nothing.
From childhood to adulthood, it's always others who fear him. Has there ever been anything that could make him feel afraid?
Yet his fingers are trembling.
Until he touched her nose, feeling the faintest, weakest breath, it was as if he had walked through the gates of hell, drenched all over.
The cold sweat on his face mixed with the rain, sliding down his defined features.
"Young Master, Miss Yates, she..." George hurriedly ran over and finally found Matthew Saxon, but was shocked by his current appearance.
In just ten short minutes, Matthew Saxon's complexion had turned remarkably bad, as if all the color had drained from his face, making him look as pale as a ghost.
Beside him, the usually lively and energetic Scarlett Yates lay in the muddy water, surrounded by blood behind her head, motionless, her face a deathly pale, with seemingly not a trace of life left.
Is she... dead?
