Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 700

Clara had this uncanny ability. One second, she'd sweep you up to cloud nine; the next, you'd crash straight to rock bottom. It all depended on her mood.

He lowered his gaze, lashes casting shadows on his cheek. His hand, resting beside him, was stiff-fingers curling in, then relaxing, like he was fighting off something only he could feel.

The car turned around, retracing the route they'd just driven. Outside, the rain hammered down harder, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. He hated rain. Always had.

Aiden was driving, stealing nervous glances at the rearview mirror. He was worried his boss might sneak another pill. He couldn't help but speak up, “Sir, maybe if you just told your wife about the Westhill plot..."

Maybe she'd finally let her guard down.

Dylan's fingers shook as he reached for the pill bottle, but Aiden's voice cut through from the front.

"You can't keep taking those. After last time, when you passed out for days—the side effects were serious. The doctor told me to keep a close eye on you. If you keep pushing yourself like this... what are we supposed to do?"

Dylan's hand froze. He gritted his teeth and tried to ride out the pain.

miracles. If I die, just tell her everything. Let her come after me if she wants—at least I won't be around

to keep trying, find the right words, but nothing he could say would matter half as

Palm Bay, Aiden was about to hop out first, ready to grab an umbrella for Dylan, but before he could

was already out there, walking into the

just a few steps to the house, but tonight's storm felt

rushed after him. "Sir,

needed looking after. It wasn't that long ago that he'd almost lost that leg for

fine, but Aiden remembered those brutal months abroad, the endless rehab. None of it had been easy. Dylan just never talked about it. Maybe he thought he deserved it,

her memory? Why give him hope only to snatch

on the ground at a market—almost dead, until someone splashes a little water on it, pretending

had never really liked Clara. Well, maybe not "disliked," but he just couldn't see what made her so special. The boss always said she

get it. Still, he

it back to the

Ferguson estate. The party starts at six sharp.