Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 837

He kept his head down, too scared to look at anyone. He dropped to his knees and shuffled backward until his back hit the cold stone wall. His voice trembled as he yelled, “If you want to kill someone, kill her! Don’t kill me! I swear, I wasn’t the one who slapped you!”

Before the words were even out of his mouth, a surprisingly gentle voice spoke up. It was the man. “Why did you hit me, all of a sudden?”

He sounded honestly confused, not the tiniest bit angry about being slapped—just like he genuinely wanted to know. It was almost as if, if Clara could give him a reason, he’d let her slap him a few more times, no questions asked.

Grayson wondered if he was hearing things. Seriously? The Grim Reaper gets smacked and just… takes it?

Clara, eyes closed, didn’t bother answering. She turned away, trying to pull her hand out of his grip.

Dylan held on, his fingers tight around hers. “Are you mad?” he asked quietly.

He hadn’t said much these past few days, mostly just sitting silently beside her, only speaking when she needed him to do something.

Clara worried he was getting more and more closed off, but she hadn’t managed to hold back just now.

“Dylan, we’re going to be stuck here for a few more days. Why don’t you take some time to think things through? If you want, you can tell me what’s going on with you. There’s no rush.”

He pressed his lips together, then finally let go of her hand.

Grayson was still kneeling in the corner, glancing back and forth between them. Suddenly, everything made sense—these two were a couple.

Holy crap, even the Grim Reaper has someone he likes.

Wait… Wasn’t he almost killed by the Grim Reaper once for standing too close to Clara?

So that’s when it started. The Grim Reaper has liked Clara ever since that day!

He took a shaky breath and scooted even closer to the wall. If it weren’t pitch-black outside and basically suicide to go out there alone, he’d have bolted already.

As soon as the sun came up, he was out of here. No question.

Dylan just sat there, staring into the fire, silent and lost in thought.

Clara stood up, ready to step outside for some air.

Dylan looked panicked and grabbed her wrist. “Clara…”

She took a breath and shook him off. “I’m just going out for a minute.”

Before she could finish, Grayson blurted out, “No, no, I’ll go! I’ll give you guys some space, please—I’m begging you—don’t leave me alone in here with him!”

Clara’s eyes narrowed. She shook off Dylan’s hand and marched over to Grayson.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Clara slapped him three times in a row, letting out all the anger she’d been holding in.

Grayson’s cheek puffed up fast. He was usually the quick-talking type—even the kidnappers would never treat him like this. But Clara had just smacked him down, literally.

Normally, he’d curse her out for hours to get even, but one look at Dylan’s expression shut him right up.

Dylan stared at the fire for a long moment before asking, “Why?”

Clara blinked. “What?”

Why what?

He looked up, frowning. “You only slapped me once. You hit him three times.”

Clara froze. Grayson was stunned, too.

Finally, Grayson couldn’t help himself. “Are you serious? You’re keeping score? If you like getting slapped that much, just ask her to do it again!”