Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Were those the flowers that showed up in the master bedroom that day? The

ones picked from the very top branch of every tree?

Would Dylan really go out of his way like that?

But didn't he... like Tara?

A dull ache started spreading in her chest, endless and heavy.

Mrs. Ferguson calmly rolled her prayer beads between her fingers. "The Ferguson family's never been one for hopeless romantics. Who would've thought, after all these years, we'd finally have one? What a waste."

She'd barely finished her sentence when the car suddenly screeched to a halt, brakes screaming into the quiet.

Mrs. Ferguson nearly smacked right into the window.

In seconds, their car was hemmed in on all sides by seven or eight black vehicles. The windows shattered in a spray of glass. Guns thrust through the broken glass, all aimed straight at them.

She couldn't see who was outside, but anyone who could pull off a setup like this was on a whole different level.

Her heart jumped to her throat, and then someone's voice cut through the chaos:

"Mrs. Ferguson, we're here for Clara. Don't worry-we want the same thing you do. She won't make it back to the Capital alive."

Mrs. Ferguson frowned. "Who are you?"

The car door was yanked open, and Clara was dragged out.

Her hands were tied up, and as she took in the group surrounding her, she could

tell they were all serious muscle-no one she could ever hope to take on. She

pressed her lips together. Tonight, she really might be done for.

Mrs. Ferguson didn't say another word. There weren't many people in her car, and

trying to fight this would just get her killed too.

Clara's life wasn't worth much, but hers was.

If death was coming either way, did it really matter whose hands did it?

"Do as you please," she said, voice cool.

The leader offered a small, polite smile, even gave her a little bow. "Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Ferguson."

Someone shoved a gag in Clara's mouth. These people didn't bother to be gentle -they threw her into a waiting car like she was nothing.

The fleet of vehicles melted into the darkness in total silence.

Mrs. Ferguson watched them go, her eyes flickering with calculation before she finally turned to her driver.

"Tell everyone I brought Clara to the temple, hoping the master could cleanse her of her sins. But halfway there, we were ambushed-I blacked out, and Clara disappeared."

Just like that, she'd wiped her hands clean of the whole thing.

Everyone in the Ferguson family knew she was always dragging people to the

temple for purification-nothing weird about it.noveldrama

Even if Dylan got upset, there'd be nothing he could pin on her.

The driver nodded, respectful and silent.

*

After being tossed into the back seat, Clara's head pounded. The air in the cramped car felt freezing cold.

They drove for a while before pulling into a

Chedden, overgrown field. One pulled out a syringe?

of men

chilling glint in his eyes.

"This is it. Get her out."

No one wasted a single word.

Rough hands dragged Clara from the car.

Every single one of these men looked dead set on finishing the job.

One grabbed her by the neck,

syringe ready. He paused for halfa

second when he saw her

ver

aybe he thought she was

pretty, but it didn't slow him down.

"Shame about that face,” he said, almost casual. "Once this goes in, you'll be a vegetable for life. They say it has side effects, but who cares? You won't live long enough to find out. Goodbye, Ms. Clara."

He didn't say another word. The needle slid into her arm.

Her mouth was still gagged-she couldn't even scream.

When he was done, the leader waved his hand. "Bury her."

A second later, Clara was shoved into a deep pit. Someone started shoveling dirt over her.

The hole was so deep, she wouldn't have had a chance even if her hands were free. But she was tied up, drugged, and helpless.

She stared at the moon overhead as it slowly disappeared behind a layer of dirt,

the world above fading into suffocating darkness.

Once the last shovelful was patted down, the leader took out his phone and called Flynn.

"Sir, it's done. Injection administered. She's buried."

Flynn's lips curled into a cold smile as he turned his silver thumb ring. "Come back."

Being buried alive was torture enough. That drug-straight from the asylum- would only make things worse.

Clara, oh Clara. No matter how clever you are, there's no way you're coming back from this.