Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Richard didn't say a word, just kept his hands tight on the steering wheel.

When they pulled up in front of Ferguson Corporation, he didn't ask Clara anything—just picked up his phone and called Dylan.

Even when it was Richard calling, it was still the assistant who answered first. Only after recognizing Richard's voice did the assistant finally pass the phone over to Dylan.

"What's up?" Dylan's voice was clipped.

"Dylan, I have something you need to know. It's about the North American Ferguson family. Can you come down for a minute?"

Richard always seemed to know exactly what Dylan wanted-or needed-to hear.

Clara sat quietly next to him, trying to read his expression, but Richard hung up after a short exchange and pulled the car into the underground garage.

She waited about ten minutes before she saw Dylan step out of the elevator, his new assistant following close behind.

Seeing Dylan again felt strange, almost like it had been a lifetime since the last time. Clara stared, frozen for a few seconds, as he walked straight to Richard's window and knocked lightly.

Richard only cracked the window, his tone as cool as ever. "Busy these days? Aren't you working with the Warren family too? Actually, I was hoping to talk about that today."

Dylan didn't answer. His assistant hovered behind him, looking like he wanted to interfere, but Richard just got out, opened the back door, and said, "Get in."

Dylan slid into the back seat. Richard looked at the new assistant. "I'm just taking him to my office. He'll be back in an hour."

The assistant glanced around the car, but from his angle, he couldn't see Clara— she'd made sure to keep herself hidden.

Richard got back in, started the car, and drove off.

It wasn't until Dylan was already in the car that he noticed someone was sitting in the front passenger seat. He didn't say a word, didn't even ask who she was, just turned away to stare out the window, lost in his own thoughts.

When the car stopped in front of the hospital, Clara caught Dylan's gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Aiden needs your help," she said quietly. "You're the only one who can get those specialists back from overseas."

Dylan looked at her for a few seconds, then turned his eyes away.

Richard saw he wasn't going to answer, so he got out. "You two talk," he said, closing the door behind him.

Outside, he lit a cigarette and

scanned the area. His instincts were sharp no one was following them for now, but that could change at any second.

Clara knew she had to be quick.

She climbed from the front seat to the back, facing Dylan head-on. "You really don't remember anything?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He said nothing, just dropped his gaze to his wrist.

Without warning, Clara grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest, over her heart.

His eyelashes trembled. He tried to pull his hand back, but she was stronger than he was.

Was he just unwilling to let go? Or had he really grown weaker than her? He didn't know.

Clara took a shaky breath, then suddenly pulled out a gun and pressed it to his shoulder.

Dylan didn't flinch. He looked at her, completely calm, like he wasn't scared at all.

"Dylan, call the specialists overseas," she said. "Help Aiden first. If you don't, I'm afraid you'll regret it once you remember."

Dylan pressed his lips together, his eyes falling to the gun in her hand. There wasnoveldrama

something familiar about it, but he couldn't quite place why.

Clara inhaled again, then turned the gun on herself, pressing it to her own shoulder-and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The bullet ripped through her. Her face went white from the pain.

She'd only just started to recover, and her palms were still covered in scars. Now,

she had another fresh wound to add to the list.

Dylan's eyes went wide, horror and

shock flashing through them. The image of Clara, blood blooming across her shoulder, burned itself into his mind-bright red, unforgettable.