Chapter 43: Fortunately, this dry grass has not become moist.

“It should serve us until dawn,” Allison declared, reappearing with a bundle of grass in her hands.

Her fingers concealed a tiny, sharp blade.

She stirred the campfire with a stick, her face illuminated by the flickering flames and a loose strand of hair falling over her eyes, revealing a dark gleam hidden within.

Kellan, leaning against the stone wall, he grabbed a sharp stone in his hand, but ended up letting it go.

Your bandaging skills are impressive.

Did you learn them somewhere, she asked.

As a child I was a bit of a tomboy and always got into trouble.

I guess you could say practice made perfect, Allison replied, her tone firm, without meeting his gaze.

Kellan laughed to himself.

His story sounded too rehearsed.

If roughhousing could teach such advanced bandages, who needed doctors? Still, he responded softly: You must be quite a prodigy.

And your legs are a marvel of modern medicine, Mr.

Lloyd, Allison replied, with a subtle sourness in her words.

The air grew heavier with tension, further chilling the already tense atmosphere.

Allison's fingers brushed the sharp blade, ready to strike at any moment.

Kellan might be skilled, but his handicap made him an easy target.

Kellan's reputation for ruthlessness had been earned through years of ruthless business dealings.

Although Allison had often dismissed the rumors, she knew that her rapid rise within the Lloyd Group was not due to her kindness.

Her constant use of a wheelchair seemed to mask something else.

Now that she had discovered a part of his secret, he might be prompted to act, protecting himself from a threat she didn't even know he posed.

Suddenly breaking the silence, Allison smiled.

That necklace on your clothes is quite striking.

Seeing it, he remembered that fateful night on the cruise ship when he had had a gun pointed at him.

Kellan twirled the necklace between his fingers, his voice deep and hoarse.

A memory of a woman.

He stared at Allison and added deliberately: Quite an intriguing and dangerous woman.

It certainly arouses curiosity to discover his true identity.

Allison's combat skills had been top-notch.

Her actions on the cruise were impressively professional, far from the demure Mrs.

Stevens that rumors had portrayed.

Kellan, ever skeptical, wondered if their encounter had been chance or something more sinister.

Be careful, Mr.

Lloyd.

Curiosity can be a double-edged sword.

Allison tossed another log on the fire, her expression serene, as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

The flickering flames cast shadows across his face, making him look both captivating and dangerous.

But that necklace is exquisite.

The previous owner must have had exceptional taste.

Kellan couldn't help but laugh.

He truly had a gift for self-praise, even with the tacit understanding between them.

It took guts to praise yourself so subtly.

Suddenly, Allison looked up and smiled at him.

"You're quite skilled yourself, Mr.

Lloyd," she commented, her fingers lightly brushing the sword hidden in her hand.

Kellan's expression hardened.

Just a little game.

But I appreciate your help, Miss Clarke.

I knew very well that Allison was a strike-first woman.

After all, that night he had even brandished a gun behind her back to coerce her.

The tension was almost palpable, their gazes engaged in a silent duel.

It was as if an invisible fog rose between them, filling the cave with a threat.

unspoken.

The cave was silent, the air heavy and oppressive.

The crackling of the fire was the only sound, as the embers danced in front of them.

Oh, I almost forgot.

I couldn't get a good look at your wound before.

Allison slowly stood up and crouched in front of Kellan.

Kellan felt the soft brush of her hair against his cheek, a slight tickle in the heat.

Then, she smiled softly.

You have a cut here.

It doesn't look like a knife wound.

More like a branch scratched you.

As she spoke, the cold tips of her fingers brushed his chest.

The small blade hidden between his ring and pinky fingers was now dangerously close to his heart.

How about I take a closer look for you, Mr.

Lloyd? Her voice was warm and sweet, and she was smiling.

But the sharp blade slipped easily through her fingers.

.

.

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