Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 839

Clara couldn’t say for sure if she even understood Dylan. His feelings for her had always burned hot, but there was something about them that never quite made sense.

She couldn’t remember how it all started—how he’d first begun to care for her.

A dull ache throbbed at the back of her skull as her eyes locked onto something carved into the wall of the rundown house. The scratchy letters were almost hidden by grime and time.

Just two clumsy words: “Senior Brother.”

The carving looked old, the lines uneven and shaky. She must have done it herself, probably back when her vision was so bad she could barely see what she was doing. Now, if she squinted, she could just make out the words.

Clara drew in a deep breath. She’d always wondered: who was this “Senior Brother” anyway?

She’d known about him for years. But whenever she’d asked Ryan or Simon, they both looked blank. No one seemed to know anything.

Sometimes, she even doubted if he was real at all.

But this old carving—right here, in front of her—was proof. He had existed. He’d saved her when she was nearly dead, nursed her back to health for three days in the jungle.

She’d promised him, back then, that when she grew up, she’d marry him and stay with him forever.

Thinking back on those words now, it felt like a memory from someone else’s life. She couldn’t even picture his face anymore.

Grayson noticed her zoning out and finally couldn’t hold back. “Hey… about that guy you used to like—whatever happened to him? You probably don’t remember how we met, right? It was at that underground fight club. You made a killing. I bet alongside you, made out pretty well too. You mentioned you liked someone, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that jinx.”

Clara shot him a look, flexing her fist. “Call him a jinx one more time and I’ll be pissed.”

Grayson clamped his mouth shut, but a moment later he couldn’t help himself. “So, what about that guy? Weren’t you searching for someone? You spent a ton of money, went a little crazy. Honestly, that’s the only reason you’d even risk going to a place like that. The North American underground scene is a mess. If I hadn’t had the Bolton family behind me, there’s no way I’d have left with all that cash. I still have no clue how you got out in one piece.”

Clara’s brows lifted. As he spoke, bits and pieces of that night started to come back to her.

“Tell me more,” she said.

Grayson scratched his chin. “What else is there? You were kind of out of it, but you kept winning. Said you needed the money. I’m guessing you paid off some people at the club to help you look for clues. Maybe that’s why you got out okay—you’d already greased the right palms.”

“Did I ever tell you his name?” she asked.

“No, but—” Grayson glanced up, catching sight of a man stepping outside. He fell quiet and looked away.

But he just stood there, a little dazed and slow to react.

“Dylan?” she called, her voice edging into panic. She tried to pull his hand closer to suck out the venom, but he jerked away and pointed off in the distance. “Over there. Set off the flare over there.”

She frowned—he was being stubborn for no reason.

Without wasting any more time, she pulled him in that direction, not even bothering to check if Grayson was following.

Grayson, knowing what was good for him, hurried after them. He’d lost his own flare ages ago.

Clara set off the flare, clutching Dylan’s hand tightly, watching as the color drained from his lips. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

Grayson hung back, looking like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Someone like Dylan shouldn’t get caught off guard by a snake—not with his skills. Even Grayson could’ve dodged that. So how did Dylan end up bitten?

Then it hit him. He’d noticed last night—something was off about Dylan. His mind just wasn’t right.