Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 139

After Nate hung up, he lunged at Clara once more.

"Clara, you heard it yourself. Your mom doesn't give a damn whether you live or die. So why should I care? If you try anything stupid, I'll make sure there's a video out there to shame your corpse. Even in death, you won't find peace."

Clara's hand shook at his words. She tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The windows were barred, making escape impossible.

With Naomi's approval, Nate felt invincible. He thought nothing would happen even if things got deadly.

She was barely holding on, unable to avoid his assault, and found herself pinned to the bed. Blood from her palms was smeared everywhere.

Nate's grin was twisted. "Finally got you on the bed, sweetheart. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

"Get off!" Clara fought back, the wound on her neck bleeding even more, but Nate didn't care. His hand moved down, grabbing at her waistband.

Her mind was a blur, and her struggles became frantic, only to be met with a harsh slap across her face.

"Stop moving, you little brat! You want me to get rough, huh?!"

Despair dulled Clara's eyes, leaving them empty.

Just then, the hospital room door flew open with a kick. Before she could process it, Nate was pulled away.

Nate was about to hurl curses but froze when a gun was pressed against his head, the barrel dark and threatening.

"Who... who are you?" he stammered, fear creeping into his voice.

Holding a gun in this city meant these people weren't ordinary.

Clara lay there, her wrist suddenly yanked into an embrace. She buried her head, not bothering to see who it was.

A suit jacket was draped over her shoulders, and the familiar scent immediately soothed her.

It was Dylan.

She looked up, spotting Nate kneeling by the wall. His face was pale as a ghost.

Two bodyguards flanked him, guns aimed at his head.

Clara clutched the suit jacket tightly, and soon, the comforting embrace returned, holding her close from behind.

She suddenly realized something was placed in her hands.

Dylan's chin rested on her shoulder, his voice calm, "Remember how to use it?"

Confusion flickered in her eyes, only just noticing the gun in her hand.

He was guiding her from behind, teaching her how to load it.

Clara's mind was blank, but anger boiled within her.

She replied firmly, "I can learn."

Dylan's hand guided hers, step by step.

"This is how you load it. This is the trigger. Aim carefully."

His chin stayed on her shoulder, and witnessing this, the bodyguards almost lost their grip on their guns. Was this really their boss?

From their angle, Dylan's form nearly enveloped Clara entirely.

But Clara, still reeling from the shock, didn't notice.

Dylan let go of her hand after his instructions.