Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

She used to think he was just putting on an act he was Dylan, after all. In Manhattan, his name alone was enough to make anyone listen. What could someone like him possibly be afraid of?

But now, it hit her: everyone has a cage, even Dylan.

Clara squeezed the tissue in her hand, ready to push him away. But Dylan closed his eyes, voice raw and soft.

"Just let me stay a little longer."

Clara froze. She hated seeing him like this-vulnerable. The Dylan she knew was supposed to be untouchable, always above the mess of ordinary life.

She leaned back, and before she knew it, she'd drifted off to sleep.

Aiden came downstairs once. Seeing the two of them slouched together on the sofa, he almost smiled. It was a rare, gentle look on his face. He was about to head back upstairs when Dylan slowly sat up.

Dylan rubbed his temples, eyes lingering on Clara, still asleep. For a long moment, he just watched her. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached out, tracing the curve of her brow and the line of her cheek with his fingertips.

Finally, he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her upstairs.

He laid her down in the guest room, every movement careful, as if she might shatter. He bent to tuck her in, his gaze settling for a moment on her lips. Clara always looked cool and distant, but there was a natural, gentle curve at the corners of her mouth.

He stared at her lips before finally brushing them with a soft kiss.

Then he straightened up, left the room, and pulled the door quietly closed behind him.

Clara slept on, never waking.

Dylan made his way to the study, where Aiden was already waiting.

"Mr. Sterling, are you feeling any better?" Aiden asked. Dylan's mood had been off since they got back from the old house, but now he seemed a little steadier.

Dylan slumped into his chair, rubbing his forehead.noveldrama

"I'm fine. Let Simon know not to go back there," he muttered.

He'd underestimated them-they'd even managed to find that place.

"It's already done," Aiden replied.

He hesitated for a second, voice careful. "Mrs. Ferguson isn't backing down this time."

She wouldn't have come all the way back to Manhattan otherwise. Between Tara and Mrs. Ferguson, things were about to get messy, And with Walter out for Clara's blood, if she ever left Palm Bay, she'd be a target for everyone.

Dylan had always told himself he'd never regret keeping Clara by his side, no matter what it took. Hated or despised, even if she wanted him dead he could live with that.

But every time he saw the kindness in her eyes, her open honesty, it cut him deeper than he wanted to admit. It was like he'd never escaped that swamp-still stuck, still filthy.

No matter how bright the moonlight, it only made the darkness inside him look worse.

Someone once told him: nobody could love a man who lived in the dark.

He thought he'd finally made it to the light. Maybe his soul belonged to the shadows all along.

"Mr. Sterling?"

Aiden had called his name a few times, but Dylan didn't answer. He looked down, startled to find the glass in his hand shattered, blood dripping from his palm.

He barely felt it as he relaxed his grip, shards digging into his skin. Aiden grabbed the first aid kit, carefully pulling out the pieces.

"You really don't have to worry so much, sir, Aiden said quietly, trying to reassure him. “You always said it yourself—people like us, we never had anything to lose."

Dylan let out a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Yeah. Everything I have now was stolen anyway."