Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run novel Chapter 658

He ended the call, popped open a bottle of wine, and shot Tara a quick message to let her know she could relax.

Within minutes, seven or eight cars disappeared into the night, leaving behind nothing but a fresh mound of earth in the lonely wilderness. Aside from that, it looked like nothing had ever happened here.

Ten kilometers away stood a quiet old temple, a sanctuary of peace. Out here, the ground hid something much darker.

A sudden animal roar split the silence. Two white blurs streaked through the trees, weaving through the shadows with wild speed.

They stopped at the mound and started digging furiously.

A man in casual clothes, his presence commanding, spotted a discarded syringe in the dirt and frowned. “What are you two digging for?”

The white shapes—furry, now streaked with mud—ignored him, paws working nonstop.

“Hey, Max, Duke. Knock it off.”

He picked up the syringe and flung it down the slope. He really didn’t want to know what was buried here.

But Max and Duke, his Czech wolfdogs, just kept going. Moments later, they uncovered a pale, trembling hand reaching out of the earth.

The man was about to grab a stick to shoo the dogs away, but the hand moved—and he froze.

He crouched down and pulled the person free.

A woman.

Max was the bigger one, but both dogs were huge and lean, trained since puppyhood—wild but smart, and intimidating enough to scare anyone on the street.

The man knelt beside Clara, his tall frame almost blocking out the moonlight. He gently removed the cloth from her mouth and met her eyes—so bright, so alive it almost startled him.

How bright? She’d been buried alive, but she was still fighting her way out. Her hands were cut and bleeding, nails broken, evidence of just how hard she’d fought to break free.

The worse the pain, the sharper her focus.

And the clearer her mind, the more stubborn her will to survive.

Her eyes told him: throw me to the wolves, drop rocks on my head—I’ll still find a way out.

Now this was someone interesting.

He offered his hand, voice calm. “Charles.”

Clara’s face was caked in dirt, her hair a tangled mess except for those striking eyes.

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