Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 716

Simon felt a knot tightening in his chest. He couldn’t stand Dylan’s smug attitude—or Richard’s, for that matter. Guys like them always kept their little circle closed, acting like nobody else could ever belong. Who were they trying to impress, anyway?

“What’s so funny?” Simon snapped.

“I’m laughing at you,” Richard replied, voice cool and lazy. “You don’t even get the basics of how to treat people, but you’ve still managed to coast for years. If I were you, I’d be worshipping Dylan right now.”

Simon’s face went dark, like he’d just been slapped across the face.

“If Dylan’s so great, why’d he have to steal my girlfriend? I’ve known Clara forever. Dylan’s nothing! Clara used to hate him—he only got close because she lost her memory.”

Dylan just traced the rim of his coffee mug, unbothered. He didn’t even look up. “You done?”

Simon felt his cheeks burn with humiliation. There it was again—that look, like nobody else mattered.

He sucked in a breath, jaw clenched. “Clara doesn’t love you, Dylan. Stop kidding yourself. Just be with Tara and quit making a fool of yourself. Even if you died in front of Clara, she wouldn’t care. She already loves someone else, and you know it better than I do!”

Right then, a Ferguson family bodyguard appeared at Simon’s elbow.

Simon knew what that meant—his grandfather was going to make him pay.

He managed a smug little smile anyway. “Yeah, I leaked the photos. But it was a waste, wasn’t it? Clara doesn’t care at all. Just like she doesn’t care about you.”

He was dragged out of the room.

Dylan coughed a few times. Richard spun his lighter in his hand, eyes steady. “If I were you, I wouldn’t have let him run his mouth for this long.”

Dylan didn’t reply. He coughed again, lowering his eyes.

After a moment, he said quietly, “Colin.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Richard’s hand paused mid-flick. He looked over, trying to figure out if Dylan was serious.

*

Clara had been anxious the whole ride, though she couldn’t even explain why.

When the helicopter touched down, she stared at the house in the distance—now just a pile of ashes. That had been Emily’s home.

She’d promised Emily she’d come back for her. She just hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

The searchlight flickered across the yard, then froze in place—no one left to control it.

Emily tried to keep calm, but her face was white as a sheet. She’d always imagined coming back to this place, but never like this—never straight through the front door, with chaos all around.

Her legs shook. The whole building was in an uproar.

Clara leaned in. “Play dead on the ground. My brother and I will start from the top floor and work our way down, floor by floor.”

Five floors. Three minutes each. Plenty of time.

Emily didn’t know where she found the nerve, but she nodded, smeared some blood from a nearby body on her face, and went limp in the corner.

Clara glanced at Charles, who grinned back, eyes alight.

He whistled. “Milo, Buddy, upstairs! Clear the way—don’t get hurt!”

Their two dogs shot off ahead, fast as lightning.

Clara arched an eyebrow, a crooked smile on her lips. “Looks like we won’t even need the full twenty minutes.”