Chapter 176

On the yacht, the doctor swiftly disinfected and treated their wounds. Allison's injuries were relatively minor—mostly bruises, with two cuts on her leg, likely sustained while navigating the forest. Kellan, however, had more severe wounds, complicating the treatment. The doctor addressed them respectfully: "Mr. Lloyd, Ms. Clarke, your wounds have been infected by seawater and the forest air, which was laden with poison. I've disinfected and bandaged them, but complications are possible. Please call me immediately if you feel unwell."

Allison nodded gratefully. "Thank you for your hard work."

After the doctor left, Kellan leaned back on the bed, lost in thought. "It seems you've offended some troublesome people."

Allison sighed, understanding the implication but downplaying it. "Are you implying something?"

"The Mafia is notorious for their ruthless and criminal activities," Kellan stated.

"I have no idea how I've crossed them," she lied smoothly. "And, Mr. Lloyd, didn't you hear what Carlos said? He mentioned I had something important. But they probably got the wrong person, or just wanted to kidnap me for ransom."

Her words felt clumsy and perfunctory. She knew she couldn't fool Kellan, but she had to hide her connections to Hackers World and the Mafia. She had no choice but to weave a false narrative, knowing Kellan wasn't one to pry deeply. Even if he investigated, he would find no trace of her past.

Kellan sensed her evasion. He hadn't earned her trust. His eyes reflected conflicting emotions, though his demeanor remained calm. "True. They were probably after ransom money." He chose not to press further. "These people should have faced justice long ago. Dying like this would be too merciful for them." A controlled intensity simmered beneath his words, subtle but perceptible to a keen observer. Allison, empathetic by nature, felt the weight of his anger.

She recalled information from Cobweb: Kellan's younger brother, Lorna's father, had been killed by the Mafia, fueling a deep-rooted vendetta. Wanting to change the subject, Allison said, "Mr. Lloyd, your injuries are quite serious." She glanced at his alarmingly bandaged wounds. Her thoughts drifted to Kellan's actions: he'd traveled a great distance to rescue her, risking his life to draw fire away. There were only three guards at the dock, but dozens of armed men searched for them in the forest. A single misstep could have cost Kellan his life.

"But you didn't have to do this," she said. "When I sent my location, I wanted you to call the police. You could have handed it over to them; there was no need for you to come personally." She'd asked this before. His earlier response—that they were friends—lingered in her mind. It was strange; she rarely dwelt on past events. Maybe it was because she'd always been independent, or maybe having someone risk their life for her affected her more than she realized.

"I don't know why either," Kellan replied. "Maybe I just couldn't bear to see you die…" His words carried an enigmatic weight.

Allison furrowed her brow, sensing something deeper. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he lowered his gaze. "After all, I'm a man of my word. I promised to teach you the fragrance-making techniques I learned from my grandmother. If you died, wouldn't I be breaking my promise?" His explanation made sense, though it didn't fully satisfy her curiosity.

He then posed another question, seemingly more significant than it appeared. "But Ms. Clarke, you could have escaped on your own. Why did you take the risk and use explosives? Pulling the pin could have led to both our deaths." His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Allison's heart skipped a beat.