Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 349

Clara felt like she had been lost in sleep forever. Her dreams were a chaotic swirl of disconnected images, like a puzzle that refused to fit together. The final scene lingered in a dark cave, pierced by a single beam of light slicing down from above, creating a beautiful but unnoticed display.

In this dream, she was just a little girl, around seven or eight, softly tapping a boy’s cheek, pleading with him to stay awake. His injuries were severe, and he was getting colder by the minute. By the second day of being trapped, in a desperate move, she bit her wrist and let him drink her blood, hoping to save him. It was amazing that a child so young could come up with such a way to help.

For two days, she kept feeding him her blood until finally, the boy woke up in her arms. Her face was ghostly pale, but she held on to his face with both hands. “Are you okay? You scared me. Don’t worry, someone will come to save us.”

“What did you give me?” he asked.

“Blood. It can save lives when it counts,” she replied, showing him her injured wrist and then, a bit embarrassed, she scratched her cheek, “You’ve still got a fever, so try to rest a bit more.”

The boy stayed silent, an intense vibe radiating from him. Clara tried desperately to see his face clearly in the dream but never could. Everything was so muddled, and she didn’t even know how they were eventually rescued.

She jolted awake, locking eyes with Simon, whose gaze was full of concern. She tried to rub her head, but he gently caught her wrist. “You’re all bruised up; don’t move.”

Clara wanted to speak, but her throat felt raw, like it was being squeezed shut, and no words came out. Simon picked up a glass of water from the bedside and held it to her lips.

“You might not have heard, but they found Lincoln’s body, and the Ferguson family is in chaos. Grandpa’s having it thoroughly investigated, and Dylan’s swamped with work. Clara, how did you end up on the road, all beat up? Who did this to you?”

Clara managed a weak smile. She never thought she was special to Dylan and understood that his previous actions were just him sticking to his principles. She took a deep breath, but it only made her lungs ache. Simon helped her lie back down. “The chef made some food for you. Try to eat a bit. I also told Ryan you’re taking some time for yourself, so he won’t bother you.”

She nodded, eyes closed, feeling completely worn out, especially after those bizarre dreams that left every cell in her body tired. Simon sat in the living room for a while, thinking, before heading to the kitchen to ask the chef to prepare something nutritious.

When Clara woke up again, it was already midday. She forced herself out of bed, washed up, and tried to drink some nourishing soup. But after just a few sips, she couldn’t hold it in and grabbed the trash can, throwing up. The vivid dream of blood haunted her, making her feel nauseous at the sight of food. She hadn’t eaten much, and eventually, only bile came up.

Simon stood by the bathroom door, watching her struggle, and suddenly asked, “Could you be pregnant?”