Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara scrambled to her feet, stunned. He'd seemed fine just moments ago-what happened?

They rode the escalator down in silence. Dylan didn't say a word. Neither did Aiden.

Clara, feeling a bit like an outsider, kept quiet too.

Back in the car, she grabbed a bottle of water and held it out to Dylan. "Want some?"

Dylan leaned against the backseat, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't take the water. He looked completely lost in his own misery.

Clara started to say something to comfort him, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw a line of massive trucks barreling toward them.

Almost without thinking, she shouted, "Aiden!"

Aiden had already floored the gas before she even finished.

Clara forced herself to stay calm and glanced behind them. The trucks filled the entire road-they were on the only route back to the Capital. Someone clearly didn't want them getting back.

She took a deep breath. "So, what's the plan?"

Aiden's face was steady, totally unfazed. "We keep driving. Wherever we can make it to, that's where we'll go. Miss, I'll need you to look after the boss. He's not doing well."

Clara slid over next to Dylan and touched his forehead. No fever, but he looked awful.

"Dylan?"

even brushing her fingers near his nose just to

but

with the wind whistling outside, he suddenly

around her neck, their bodies pressed together, heat and

he was, and the hand she'd

episode, but as far as she knew, Dylan only struggled with insomnia. Was there something

patted his back

okay. I'm here. Try not

in the rearview mirror but didn't say

pulled out his phone, and called for backup, steering them onto an

of black sedans stuck to them like glue— and

Dylan's face

what else to

a

lips

okay. Just close

a

her imagination, but

more than anything

the front. "Aiden,

least ten cars behind them, and it couldn't go on