Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara looked like she'd just stepped out of a rainstorm, her hair damp and her skin sticky with sweat. "Can you get me some painkillers, please?" she asked quietly, her voice thin with exhaustion.

The housekeeper hurried off and came back with a couple of pills and a glass of water.

Clara swallowed them, then let herself sink back onto the bed.

She'd been feeling off for days now. Little flashes of memory kept flickering through her mind, never staying long enough to make sense. She couldn't shake the feeling that something important was about to surface.

Tonight, after Megan's pointed words, her head was throbbing so badly she could barely think straight.

Dylan sat by her bedside in silence, watching her.

Clara didn't have the energy to ask any of the million questions swirling in her head: Was Walter okay? Why had Dylan shown up so suddenly? Why hadn't the old man's people made a move tonight like everyone expected?

There were just too many questions. It was overwhelming.

The room was quiet. The housekeeper slipped in and spoke in a low voice, "Sir, aren't you going to get some sleep?"

Dylan looked out the window, where night pressed against the glass. It was four in the morning, and there was still over an hour before sunrise.

"No," he said simply.

wanted to say more, but she just nodded and left,

until seven, not taking his eyes

a few seconds before they

let it go, repeating the motion again and

you

his gaze, pressing a hand

too busy dealing with the

to be different he always listened

and Aiden

the

Palm Bay estate felt cold and empty. It

bed for two days. When she finally woke up for

downstairs, and forced herself to eat a

"When did Dylan leave?"

her head. "Ma'am,

stomach