Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 758

Tara watched the house burn from beneath a tree, her lips curling into a triumphant grin. No one had made it out so far—the night was going her way. Maybe all those whispered prayers at the temple hadn’t been in vain after all.

But then her smile faded. Out of nowhere, a group of strangers appeared, dousing the broken window with gasoline. The flames surged, crackling hungrily in the night.

Inside, Clara had been ready to carry the old lady out through that very gap, but now the fire was too wild—there was no way through. She stumbled backward, the heat flushing her cheeks, choking on the thick, blinding smoke that filled the room.

The old lady wheezed, coughing so hard it sounded like it might break her. “Clara, listen to me.” Her voice was ragged but insistent. “One of us has to die here tonight, or he’ll never let this go. If I die, he’ll want Dylan to hold you responsible. If it’s you, then he wins no matter what. His people are watching—someone has to stay. If you try to save me, neither of us will make it. Dylan may be his son, but all he cares about is power. He won’t care what happens to Dylan after. Promise me, you and Dylan will watch out for each other.”

She clutched Clara’s jacket, pulling it around her shoulders. “If we don’t leave someone behind, we’re both dead.”

Clara froze, her heart pounding. “Ma’am…”

The old lady squeezed her hand, her sigh heavy with years of regret. “You know who did this. I just never thought, after all we’ve been through, it would end like this. Go, Clara. Please. I’m asking you.”

Clara’s throat ached with emotion—not for herself, but for Dylan, caught in the middle of all this.

“If you die, Clara, then it’s my fault. I’ll never forgive myself,” the old lady whispered, clutching Clara’s jacket close as the men outside kept watching.

Clara took a shaky breath. “You go, ma’am.”

The old lady stared at her, disbelief flickering in her eyes, then managed a bittersweet smile. “Dylan made the right choice in you. Give this to him.”

She pressed a slip of paper into Clara’s hand—a charm she’d begged from a monk earlier.

Clara barely had time to close her fingers around it before the old lady straightened, using the last of her strength to head for the broken window. Flames roared, and suddenly the sharp crack of gunshots split the night.

Clara gripped the charm and pushed deeper into the smoke, finally kicking open a locked door at the back. But instead of freedom, there was only a sheer drop—a cliff. Her foot slipped, but she managed to grab onto a low branch just in time, heart hammering. If she’d been a second slower, she would’ve fallen.

No wonder the men outside only cared about the front.

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