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Amelia Clarke stared blankly back at the tall, upright man standing in front of the car, not hearing what William Shaw was asking.
Owen Moreland lifted his hand to extinguish the remaining cigarette on the car hood, then propped his hands on the front of the car, just gazing at Amelia Clarke without saying a word. This silent demeanor was more terrifying than angry roaring.
There was a standoff.
William Shaw's car was blocking the intersection, and there was a honk from a car behind.
He glanced at Amelia Clarke and reached for the car door, preparing to get out and negotiate with the man in front of the car.
But Amelia Clarke stepped out of the car before him.
The night breeze of early autumn was slightly chilly, and perhaps it was the cold, Amelia Clarke shivered as soon as she got out of the car.
"Are you crazy? Don't you know this is very dangerous?" she asked him, her voice filled with uncontrollable reproach and fear.