Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 871

Charles had been picked up by the Chester family years ago, and now he was basically their weapon. If he and this test subject really were brothers, the universe had played a pretty cruel joke on them.

One brother, raised to be a weapon-no one in their world wanted anything to do with him.

The other one, dragged here, drugged since he was a kid, barely ever tasting real food.

Clara let out a long sigh. Despite the ache in her shoulder, she couldn't help feeling sorry for them.

The test subject polished off the last bit of steak, then leaned over his plate, sniffing for more. His eyes lit up as he glanced at Clara, pointed at the fried eggs, then at himself. "Mine?"

She nodded. Instantly, he grabbed an egg in each hand and devoured them in just a few bites.

Clara honestly hadn't expected her cooking skills to come in handy in a place like this.

When he was done, the test subject looked at her again, opened the fridge, and handed her another slab of raw meat.

He was still hungry-message received.

Clara intentionally turned away. "I don't feel like cooking anymore. You tried to kill me, and I'm supposed to make you dinner?"

He frowned, thinking about it, and then set his knife aside. After a long pause, he managed, "No kill. I...won't kill."

Clara finally let herself breathe. He was tough to communicate with, but at least he seemed to mean what he said.

So she fried up a few more steaks. Each time she finished one, he snatched it right off the plate, not even caring if it was still hot.

He ate six in a row, licking his fingers, still looking like he wanted more.

been here before? Do you know a way out? The door we came through is trashed

been," he replied, sitting at the table, wiping up the

He really was just a kid in some

find a way out, or we're

He nodded. "Okay."

he headed

checked. He took a look around, then came

a back room. He climbed up to

a tight squeeze, but just big enough

went in first, crawling ahead, and Clara followed, every move making her shoulder

back to where they started and found the net

ground. Clara took a

subject landed right beside her. They were in a valley, and

started walking

five hundred

grass, totally spent. Her whole

his knife in his hand, lost in thought, and Clara couldn't help but

then he crouched in front of her, turned his back, and said softly,

who'd wanted to kill her not long ago? Now he was playing

young, but tall and steady, carrying

for two hours straight before stopping at a small

lately, the water was high and clear, and

rolling up his sleeves, he waded in, caught a fish with his bare hands, killed it, and laid it

Clara finally got it—he wasn't sparing her out of kindness. He just wanted someone

she wasn't here, he'd probably just