Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara's eyes flashed with disbelief. After Dylan tossed her onto the narrow cot at the back of the van, her face went paper-white. "Dylan, are you out of your mind?"

The van felt almost like an RV, just lower to the ground. The tiny bed at the rear took up a third of the cramped space. Dylan's suit was a mess, his usual careful appearance in total disarray. Clara could feel the storm of emotion rolling off him. She struggled hard, but the silk tie around her wrists was too sturdy, biting into her skin and leaving angry red marks.

She took a shaky breath, ready to say something, but Dylan was already there- one knee on the mattress, grabbing her wrist with one hand, his other hand moving lower. Clara had been through enough shocks that day, but when she realized what he meant to do, it was something beyond shock. His lips crashed against hers, and her mind went completely blank.

"You..."

She had no idea what to say. Her face lost all color, turning paler by the second.

He leaned over her, his knee wedged firmly between her legs, exuding a kind of force she'd never seen from him before. There was a smear of blood on her lip. She stared at the swelling on Dylan's cheek, unable to look away.

This wasn't the Dylan she knew he was wild, reckless, nothing like the calm, untouchable man from before. Bracing himself above her, he asked, low and rough, "Did you really think I wouldn't get mad?"

Clara's palms were drenched with sweat. She could feel cold dampness trickling down her back. The sensation of being dragged into a bottomless pit was stronger than ever, threatening to swallow her whole. She bit her lip, and when the panic faded, it felt like her soul had been shattered into pieces.

Dylan's eyes dropped to her wrists, noticing the red marks left by the tie. His lashes hesitated, and then his fingers gently, almost awkwardly, traced the angry lines. Clara flinched away, still rattled by the whiplash of his mood.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment before he slowly sat at the edge of the bed. For a second, it felt like both of them had calmed down.

Clara sat up, scooting as far away from him as she could-right into the farthest corner of the mattress. Her mouth throbbed with pain, but her gaze stayed locked on Dylan, as if she was searching for the man she used to know. But with the way he looked at her, she couldn't see a trace of the old Dylan.

He sat there, Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled for words. Finally, he got out, "I'm sorry."

Clara didn't dare push him any further. She just curled up, hugging her knees, and stayed silent.

The next few hours passed in heavy silence. They were physically close, but it felt like there was a giant, invisible gap between them-something neither of them could cross.

When the van finally stopped in Palm Bay, Dylan reached out for her. She instinctively shrank back.

A flicker of pain crossed his face as he caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms. She started to struggle. "Let go of me."

He held her for a moment longer, then let go and wheeled himself back to his chair. "Don't run again. Please. Just listen, okay?"

It sounded like he was talking to a stray cat.

Clara didn't say a word, just watched him get out of the van. A few men in black suits appeared at the door, politely asking her to step down. She lowered her eyes and quietly followed. noveldrama

This time, they led her not to a guest room, but to the master bedroom She sat there in silence. At the door, a housekeeper asked softly, "Ma'am, would you like something to eat?"

She couldn't eat, even if she wanted to—her hands were still tied, and no one had bothered to untie her. Not wanting to sit on the bed, she just sat down on the floor.

When Dylan finally came in, he found

her sitting there, dazed, with her wrists still bound and her ponytail a messy tangle. He wasn't in his wheelchair this time. He walked over and knelt beside her, gently taking her wrists and loosening the tie.