Chapter 165: Kellan knew the situation had spiraled out of control, attracting the attention of the police. However, even the officers felt they were facing a particularly tangled web. The methods employed suggested the involvement of professional killers, and with the crime unfolding overseas, the challenges of cross-border law enforcement loomed large.
On the other end of the line, a police officer carefully stated, "Mr. Lloyd, we hope you're ready for what's coming."
"I understand," Kellan replied, maintaining a steady tone. "I'll cooperate fully with any updates." His expression remained stern and unwavering.
Jim, watching him, wore a mask of pain mixed with helplessness. Having raised Kellan, Jim knew his temperament well. The more stoic Kellan appeared, the more resolute his lethal determination grew; he was a force that could not be swayed.
Since Allison had entered the Lloyd family's orbit, Kellan had become less tempestuous and more measured. But now, the shadows of vengeance danced in his eyes. Kellan was never one to sit idle; he preferred to be the architect of his own fate.
He turned to Sherman with resolve. "Get me information on Burned Islands, especially the Mafia's hideouts." Kellan's mind spun with snippets of the Leswington language he'd overheard. It was apparent the assassins had mentioned Burned Islands, and he could easily deduce they were likely connected to the Mafia. While he couldn't yet piece together Allison's connection to the assassins, he knew Burned Islands was where his brother had met his end. Moreover, if not for Lorna, Allison wouldn't have fallen so easily into the clutches of danger.
Kellan observed his subordinates stumbling over reports, each one more vague than the last. His simmering anger cast a shadow over the room, making everyone uneasy. "The Mafia actually hasn't been eradicated," he muttered, his gaze laser-focused on the clues.
Just then, a notification pinged on his phone, halting his thoughts. Seeing it was from Allison nearly made his heart stop. But in an instant, her subsequent messages went dark, leaving him unable to reach her. The last location she sent was Burned Islands!
Without a second thought, Kellan hoisted himself out of his wheelchair, quickly changed, and slipped a tracker into his cufflink. He turned to Sherman. "Allison's location might shift at any moment. She's in a remote area now, and I need to reach her before anything changes."
The address Allison had sent pointed to an abandoned factory on the southern stretch of Burned Islands, a place where law enforcement was already stretched thin and the economy was in tatters. The area was a labyrinth of crumbling air-raid shelters, making any search a daunting task. Sending reinforcements would only alert the enemy and complicate matters. The best course of action was for Kellan to risk it himself, allowing others to follow the tracker's trail.
"When I arrive, you need to coordinate our men, arm them with firearms and explosives, and neutralize the killers before the police can intervene."
Sherman's concern was palpable. "But Mr. Lloyd, we can't be certain that Ms. Clarke sent that message herself; it might be a trap to lure us into a snare."
Kellan raised his hand, cutting Sherman off mid-sentence. "If it's dangerous, let me take the risk. You don't have to." The clock was ticking, and every second they delayed increased the threat to Allison. "We can't afford to wait. This is our only lead. Even if it turns out to be a wild goose chase, I have to see it for myself—this is what I owe to Allison." His eyes darkened with chilling resolve. "Make sure you coordinate with the police and have our men ready to spring into action nearby. Protecting Allison is our top priority if those thugs decide to strike."
Sherman nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll see it done." He'd never witnessed this fierce side of Kellan before.