Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Ryan couldn't help but let out a dry laugh—was this guy for real? Who did he think he was, asking questions like that?

Before Ryan could say anything, Dylan picked up the mug from the table and took a sip. The tea was cold and bitter.

"Clara's doing fine now," Dylan said, his tone almost casual. "As her brother-in- law, isn't it normal to check in with you about her past?"

Brother-in-law? Ryan nearly lost it. What a load of crap. Everyone knew Dylan had forced Clara into that marriage.

Ryan took a slow, steadying breath, ready to snap back, but Dylan looked up, meeting his eyes. "Did Clara used to lose her memory a lot?"

The way Dylan said her name-soft, almost gentle-made Ryan grit his teeth. But the question was serious, and Ryan had no choice but to swallow his irritation. He dropped down onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

"How is Clara doing now?" he asked, his voice rougher than he meant.

"She's okay," Dylan replied.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "Back then, when Clara was chasing after Simon, she'd forget who we were every few months. Like clockwork-bam, another episode. She was obsessed with Simon, practically followed him everywhere, even when people laughed at her. My parents were embarrassed. Honestly, we all thought she was faking it, trying to get Simon's attention. I did too. I mean, who loses their memory that often? It sounded ridiculous."

Dylan stared down at his mug, a strange ache tugging at his chest, like something raw and sour gnawing at him from the inside out.

Ryan seemed to get lost in his memories, his anger fading. "Clara was always good to me. She'd cook for me whenever she had time. But when she was around Simon, people would make fun of her. I tried talking sense into her; she never listened. After a while, I got tired of it. I couldn't believe someone like her was my sister. So every time she said she'd forgotten us, we all just laughed it off."

He paused, voice softer. “But a few days ago, when she came to save me, she looked just like she did back then. And I started thinking-maybe all those times she lost her memory were real. We just didn't want to believe it. I've been digging into it, trying to figure out what's really going on, but honestly, I'm way out of my depth."

That was why he was willing to sit here and talk with Dylan-because Dylan might actually find answers.

Dylan was quiet, caught up in his own thoughts. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low and rough. "Did she ever mention anyone important to her? Someone special?"

Ryan frowned, thinking. "Someone important? I don't remember. Back then, Clara only had eyes for Simon. Things were bad between us, so I wasn't really paying attention to her."

Dylan stood up, ready to go.

Ryan trailed after him, blurting out, "Dylan, I don't know everything, but I do know Clara really hates you. Whenever you're around, she avoids you like the plague."

Dylan paused for a second, silent, then walked out without another word. He slid into his car and glanced at the time-seven p.m.

Later, at Palm Bay Café, Dylan sat across from the doctor. "You were right," he admitted quietly. "Clara's had memory problems in the past. She lost her memory a lot, but always seemed to bounce back."

The doctor stood beside him, handing over a thick stack of documents.

"Sir, the drug first appeared in North American underground fight clubs over twenty years ago. Someone used it to throw huge matches into chaos back then, a single bet could be worth hundreds of millions. Fighters were buried in debt, and within a few months, all the favorites

were taken out by complete

nobodies. It wasn't just the casinos; private gamblers lost everything too. When the casinos figured out someone was using drugs to rig the fights, they put a bounty on his head across North America. The man disappeared, but that drug spread fast. Soon, every fighter was using it. The fights got bloodier, more brutal. But the side effects were terrifying. Most fighters lost their minds; the ones who survived turned into monsters-they only knew how to kill. From everything I've found, no one's ever come out of it normal."

Dylan took the folder, flipping through it slowly. He'd always thought Clara's past was simple just a girl taken in by someone else. But whoever raised

him clearly had secrets of their own.

He tapped his finger on the pile of documents, thinking aloud. "That man-the one

they chased in the North American fight clubs. Is there any record of what he looked like?"noveldrama