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?"

his name gently, even brushing her fingers near his

but

the wind whistling outside, he suddenly reached out and pulled her into

wrapped around her neck,

was, and the hand she'd meant to use to gently push

only struggled with insomnia. Was there something else? What on

his back

okay. I'm here. Try not

rearview mirror but didn't say anything. He had bigger problems right

breath, pulled out his phone, and called for backup, steering them onto an even lonelier stretch of

of black sedans stuck to them like

cupped Dylan's face in

sure what else

a

lips

Just close your

for a bit, all

it was just her imagination, but

more

front. "Aiden, do we have a

behind them, and it couldn't go on like this.