Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel 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.

With her arm aching worse than ever, Clara paused and asked, “Have you ever been here before? Do you know a way out? The door we came through is trashed—we’ll need to find another exit.”

“Never been,” he replied, sitting at the table, wiping up the last bit of sauce with his fingers and licking them clean.

Clara sighed. He really was just a kid in some ways.

“We’ve got to find a way out, or we’re both done for,” she said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

Without another word, he headed down the hallway.

Clara already knew there wasn’t an exit there—she’d checked. He took a look around, then came back and pointed up. “There. Inside.”

She got up and followed him into a back room. He climbed up to the highest spot and pried open a ventilation duct.

It was a tight squeeze, but just big enough for a person.

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

They crawled all the way back to where they started and found the net they’d seen before.

They dropped to the ground. Clara took a look around.

Clara took a deep breath, cleaned the fish, built a small fire, and skewered the fish on a branch to roast.

He caught another dozen, then sat next to her, eyes glued to the fish as they roasted over the flames.

That was the only time he looked truly alive—when there was food.

So he was a foodie. That made things easier.

Clara got all the fish roasting and finally took a moment to check her shoulder.

Her arm had been dislocated, and cleaning the fish had nearly been too much.

She sucked in a sharp breath, telling herself not to get mad at someone like him.

She got up and set about exploring. The area was full of wild berries and garlic, some with natural flavor strong enough to make up for missing spices.

Clara couldn’t help but feel a little proud. She grinned. “Bet you’ve never had anything like this before, huh?”

He nodded, thinking hard before finally managing, “You…amazing. I…admire.”

Clara burst out laughing.