Kellan, his brows knitted in worry, grasped the wheelchair’s handles with a grip that bulged the veins on his hands. He had rarely revealed the truth about his legs. With a final push for Kellan to escape, Allison turned her full attention to the assassin.
Their movements were a blur of speed and precision. Despite the sudden turn of events, the man remained committed to his mission. He drew a dagger from his boot and slashed at Allison’s throat with lethal intent. Allison spotted the subtle, deadly move but was in no position to exert much force. She reached out, prepared to block the attack and disarm him, even if it meant taking a dagger wound herself.
Instead of the anticipated pain, she saw Kellan, his face set in grim determination, holding the assassin’s arm. Rising from the wheelchair, Kellan stood tall and imposing over the assassin.
Allison was momentarily stunned in the heat of battle, which was rare for her. She blurted out, “Your legs are…”
It was like witnessing a modern-day miracle. Kellan’s sudden mobility at a critical moment seemed almost otherworldly.
“Let’s finish this!” Kellan’s resolve was unmistakable.
The assassin, unaware of Kellan’s ruse, realized his intel had been flawed. Kellan’s supposed disability had been a deception. With Allison’s skilled intervention, the mission was turning perilous. If the assassin wanted any chance of survival, he had to fight with everything he had.
Resolved, he sprang back into action, his determination as unyielding as the storm around them. In the dark, rainy night, the confrontation grew fiercer.
The assassin was relentless, targeting Kellan’s face. Kellan deflected the blow and demanded, “Who sent you?”
“Kill me if you can!” the assassin spat defiantly.
Kellan’s brow furrowed in thought. He considered the list of suspects-someone knew his whereabouts and had hired this professional assassin out of deep-seated hatred. As he stretched his limbs, he mulled over the potential culprits, including his several illegitimate siblings and, most notably, his stepmother’s son, Hoyt Lloyd. The latter had once attempted to ruin him on a cruise ship, and that score was far from settled.
Meanwhile, Allison was swift in her counterattacks. She delivered a knee strike to the assassin’s stomach before executing a shoulder throw. A sickening snap echoed as her right hand, along with the dagger, struck his arm with brutal efficiency.
The assassin’s arm was severed, dangling by mere threads of flesh. Despite his grievous injury, the man twisted around in a desperate attempt to cut off the remaining flesh himself, like a lizard shedding its tail to escape.
A gentle drizzle began to fall, washing away the blood’s scent.
Allison and Kellan fought in perfect harmony. In the darkness and rain, their movements were so synchronized that it seemed they had rehearsed this countless times. Allison struck from above while Kellan delivered precise kicks, their coordination impeccable.
A sense of uncanny familiarity pervaded the fight. As she watched Kellan’s shirt cling to his sculpted abs and observed his movements, Allison’s thoughts raced. One word echoed in her mind. “Cruise!”
Not only did Allison recognize the eerie sense of familiarity, but Kellan also felt an unsettling vibe.
As they dealt with the assassin with precision, they couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss between them.
The assassin, cornered against the cliff’s edge, hissed in frustration. “Damn it!”
In his critically injured state, he made a desperate lunge toward Allison. Already precariously positioned on the slope’s edge, Allison lost her balance and teetered dangerously.
In an instant, Kellan leaped forward and seized her wrist. “I’ve got you!”
Yet, in the dark chaos, both of them plummeted down the slope.
Allison felt Kellan’s firm embrace around her waist, his arm protecting her head as they tumbled together. Their descent slowed when they crashed into a tree, and they hit the ground with a jarring impact. Allison realized, through the disorienting tumble, that Kellan had used his body as a shield to protect her.
As they came to a stop, Allison checked herself for injuries. Minor cuts marred her arm, but Kellan was far worse. His forearms and legs were slashed, and the fall had left his right leg and arm fractured, along with numerous abrasions.
In intense pain but conscious, Kellan slowly opened his eyes and uttered, “Help me. My right arm is dislocated.”
Allison moved swiftly, adjusting his arm back into its socket with practiced efficiency.
Sweat glistened on Kellan’s forehead as he watched Allison’s every move. Not only did she realign his dislocated shoulder, but she also set her own fractured fingers with a wince of pain. She was tough and undeniably captivating, handling her own injuries with seasoned expertise.
“Lean against this tree for now,” Allison instructed calmly, removing her jacket to tear it into makeshift bandages. She fashioned the sleeves into a cushion for his head and wrapped a cloth around his arm to staunch the bleeding. After a quick survey, she assessed their surroundings. “There’s a cave nearby. We need to get out of the rain before we catch a fever or worse.”
Rain could cause their body temperatures to plummet in the highlands, resulting in fevers and illnesses.
“Alright,” Kellan agreed, trying to stand but receiving gentle support from Allison.
With steady determination, Allison helped him to his feet, and they made their way to the cave. Inside, away from the relentless rain, they found a sliver of comfort.
Allison carefully positioned Kellan against the cave’s stone wall. She gathered dry branches, quickly starting a fire to drive away the damp chill that clung to them. As the fire crackled, she picked up two sturdy branches.
“I tried to call for help,” Allison said, her voice calm yet tense. “But there’s no signal out here because of the rain. Emanuel will notice we’re missing and send someone to find us.”
She gently adjusted Kellan’s leg, speaking with precision. “This isn’t a dislocation. It’s a fracture. I’ll need to stabilize it to prevent further damage.” Kellan nodded, enduring the pain in silence.
His mind drifted back to the Allison he had met two years ago in the office – cool but overly docile. Then there was the Allison on the cruise ship bed, attractive and dominant, and now this Allison, skilled in both pottery and medical treatment.
Which of these versions was the real her?
Watching her deftly bandage his wounds, he wondered how frequently she found herself in such perilous situations.
Allison rose and tapped his coat. “Wearing this will trap heat from your body. Let me dry it.”
Kellan complied, removing his shirt to reveal his well-defined muscles and a constellation of old scars across his abdomen.
As Allison shook out the wet clothing, a necklace fell from the folds – a pristine pearl with a red agate inset, shimmering even in the dim light.
Allison’s eyes widened as she recognized it – the necklace she had lost that night.
For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked.
Though they both tried to maintain composure, the recognition was palpable.
The fire’s crackling cast their entwined shadows on the cave wall, creating an awkward atmosphere.
“I’ll dry the clothes,” Allison said.
“I’ll add more wood,” Kellan replied.
They spoke simultaneously, then turned to search for something to use as a weapon, each lost in their thoughts as the storm raged outside.
“Fortunately, this dry grass hasn’t gotten damp. It should keep us going until dawn,” Allison declared, reappearing with a bundle of grass in her hands. Her fingers were concealing a sharp, tiny blade.
She stirred the campfire with a stick, her face glowing in the flickering flames, a stray lock of hair falling over her eyes, revealing a dark glint lurking within.
Kellan, leaning against the stone wall, gripped a sharp stone in his hand but eventually let it slip away. “Your bandaging skills are impressive. Did you pick them up somewhere?” he inquired.
“As a kid, I was something of a tomboy, always getting into trouble. I guess you could say practice made perfect,” Allison replied, her tone steady, her gaze never meeting his.
Kellan chuckled inwardly. Her story sounded a bit too rehearsed. If roughhousing could teach such advanced bandaging, then who needed doctors?
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.