Chapter 214 Zander Scoops Amelia Up Instantly
Amelia hit the ground so hard the whole arena flinched.
It was clear to everyone — she had been thrown from the mare in a violent arc, losing all balance midair before crashing into the packed dirt. The impact sent her rolling nearly four feet before she stopped.
The horse was a tall, powerful animal, and its leap had been at least six feet high. Combined with the speed of a full gallop, the force of the fall was brutal. The crowd collectively held their breath. For a moment, the only sounds were the pounding of hooves fading into the distance and the whisper of dust settling in the sunlight.
From the fence line, no one could immediately reach her. They could only watch from behind the rails as Amelia lay curled on the ground, unmoving, and wonder if she had already lost consciousness.
Unease rippled through the crowd. The air tightened, charged with panic.
Inside the arena, only the students from Class A were still mounted.
"Amelia!!"
Zander, Asher, and Leroy had skipped the lesson today. The only one close to her was Dorian. The moment Dorian saw her thrown, she didn’t think — she swung off her horse, boots thudding in the sand as she sprinted toward Amelia.
Quentin stared, wide-eyed, hesitating at the edge of the course. Other classmates began to run toward her, driven by sheer instinct to help.
But Lon was faster. He reached her first.
He had not expected her to fall so suddenly. Yes, it had been his charm that spurred the mare into its frenzied run, his calculated push to see if she would use a certain kind of power to save herself. But the moment she had called out to him, he had been ready to stop the horse.
She had looked stable enough, but he had not realized her strength was already spent. The next second, she was airborne.
Lon dropped to one knee beside her. Her eyes were closed, her body drawn in tight. Her face was pale, brows drawn tight, every line etched with pain. Dust‑tangled strands of hair clung to her skin. A few shallow cuts traced her cheek, thin lines of blood bright against her skin. The sunlight made her look fragile, almost breakable.
Her arms were worse. The short sleeves of her riding jacket left them bare, and in the split second of falling she had instinctively shielded her head with her forearms. Rolling across the dirt had left them scraped raw, streaked with blood, grains of sand embedded in the wounds.
And that was just what he could see. A fall from six feet at full speed could do far worse — damage to her back, her legs. Judging by the way she held herself, the pain was deeper than the surface.
"Amelia..." Lon's voice was low, his chest heavy, breath uneven.
This was his doing. If she was not what he suspected, then he had just made an innocent girl suffer for nothing.
He brushed the hair from her face, meeting the haze in her eyes as they opened. She bit down on her pale lip, forcing the words out.
"Mr. Ramos... it hurts..."
Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling in the air. A tear followed, sliding down her cheek, warm against the back of his hand.
It was intentional.
That single phrase, that single tear, tightened something deep in his chest. It was his fault. She had been too strong, too composed, and he had forgotten — if she was just a seventeen-year-old girl, this kind of trial was cruel beyond measure.
"I am sorry," he said quietly, his fist curling. Even if she did not understand what the apology meant, he had to say it.
"Do not move. I will get you to the infirmary."
He drew in a breath, ready to lift her —
"Do not touch her!"
A sharp, cold voice cut from behind him. Before Lon could react, a hand yanked him back.
The boy wore the school uniform, fine‑cut features sharp, a dark mole at the corner of his eye catching the light. His gaze was sharp, the kind that cut like the edge of a blade. He was breathing hard, the run here still in his chest, and his eyes held nothing but rejection toward Lon.
Lon recognized him instantly. Donny had mentioned him before. Zander — the student who could not take riding lessons due to health issues. The same Zander for whom Amelia had risked herself in the Moonfern match against Kelly.
Lon froze, but Zander did not spare him another glance.
Pulling Lon back, Zander's eyes locked on Amelia's injuries. The blood on her face and arms made his hand tremble. Usually composed, his throat shifted as he swallowed hard, fighting for control. His fingertips curled tight.
"Amelia..." His voice was low, carrying a subtle tremor.
She saw him and breathed his name. "Zander..."
"I am here," he said, his focus fixed entirely on her. "Does it hurt? Where?"
"My arm and my leg... my calf hurts too. I do not want to move."
"Alright. I understand." His tone softened, steadying her. "Do not be afraid. I will carry you to the infirmary."
Gently, he slid his arms beneath her, avoiding every scrape and bruise. Lifting her was effortless — in his arms, she felt weightless.
Without looking at anyone else, he walked straight toward the edge of the arena.
The onlookers stared, stunned. Zander was known at Prestige High School for his distance, his cool detachment. No one had seen him close to anyone. Now they understood — he was not indifferent to everyone. He simply cared for one person.
His eyes, dark as obsidian, never left her face. Not once did they glance at the crowd.
Lon watched her carried away, exhaling slowly. His chest felt weighed down, heavy as stone.