Chapter 257

On the highway, a black sedan tore through traffic. Lorna's eyes fluttered open. Her vision was blurry at first, but as the scene came into focus, she gasped. Her eyes widened, but no sound escaped her lips. Her mouth parted as if to scream, but no sound emerged. She was like a marionette, her strings cut, her limbs powerless.

"Listen, kid," growled a man in a baseball cap, his voice gruff. "If you want to leave here alive, I suggest you keep quiet!" He pulled his cap lower, shielding his face from the fading sunset. Then, noticing a car gaining on them in the rearview mirror, his frown deepened into a scowl. "This is off. No way they should've caught up that fast. We didn't leave anything behind, right?"

The lean man next to him snorted derisively, flicking his fingers. "What's the big deal? Worst-case scenario, we go down swinging." He opened the glove compartment and retrieved a small handgun. "We're dealing with the Lloyds. Of course, they'd come after us. But it'll be dark soon, and even if they keep tailing us, they won't make a move. Don't forget, we're on a highway with lots of cars. One wrong step, and the girl's finished."

In the car following close behind, tension hung heavy in the air. Allison leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at the sedan ahead. "Mr. Lloyd, you've set up a roadblock ahead, but with this traffic, one crash will be a disaster. And with Lorna inside… we can't take that chance." The thought of the kidnappers making a panicked move sent a chill down her spine. It could turn into chaos instantly, with Lorna caught in the middle.

Without hesitation, Kellan made a call. "Send in two more cars. Have them flank from both sides. We'll force them off the highway and drive them toward the outskirts. Fewer people there, and we can stop them without causing a scene." His tone was cold as iron, his eyes bloodshot with fury. The air crackled with unspoken threats.

Sherman nodded, cold sweat beading on his forehead. "Yes." He knew Kellan's rage well. If anything happened to Lorna, being "fish food" would be the least of his problems. Sherman was drowning in guilt. If only he'd been more alert, Lorna wouldn't have been taken. Now, he obeyed Kellan's every word, desperate to atone for his failure.

Allison felt the pressure emanating from Kellan. Since Lorna's abduction, he'd been wound so tight he hadn't snapped. His fingers repeatedly rubbed his temples, a sign his old condition threatened to resurface.

"Believe me, Mr. Lloyd, Lorna will be safe," Allison reassured him softly, handing him a small bottle of aromatherapy spray. "The key right now is to stay level-headed. If we lose control, those lowlifes have already won."

Kellan accepted the spray, his movements deliberate as he spritzed some on his wrist. As the scent enveloped him, a faint sense of calm began to take root. "Thank you, Ms. Clarke." His long fingers clenched around the bottle, veins bulging. "You're right," Kellan admitted, briefly closing his eyes. "I have to keep my head." But even as he said it, his imposing figure seemed to sink into the shadows, the tension thickening. It felt like the moment before a storm. Were it not for Allison's calm presence, Kellan might have already lost it.

"Don't mention it, Mr. Lloyd. Lorna's more than just a student to me," Allison responded, her eyes fixed on the black sedan. Despite her outward calm, she exuded a fierce, almost predatory aura.

Sherman, steering with rigid focus, stole a glance at her through the rearview mirror. Allison was undeniably striking, but she commanded distance—an unspoken warning to stay away. Much like Kellan, she exuded danger. Together, they were an unsettling pair—one as cold as the darkest winter night, the other alluring but deadly.

Swallowing his nerves, Sherman spoke, his voice hesitant. "Ms. Clarke, how did you know the kidnappers were heading north? The race venues are south of the city, so wouldn't it make more sense for them to flee that way?"

Allison's gaze didn't waver. "They don't need time to stall. Everything—from the chaos at the race to the kidnapping—is part of a larger scheme. You think that's a coincidence? I don't."

Sherman found it difficult to look her in the eyes. Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place. "So… all that trouble at the race… it was just a distraction. They wanted to get Mr. Lloyd out of the picture long enough to take Lorna. By the time anyone figured it out, they'd already be gone." His mind raced. It was a bold plan, but not without flaws. No one knew Travis was actually Kellan. Even if the thugs intended to provoke Kellan into action, that kind of elaborate plot required meticulous foresight. To pull off a stunt like that, the real puppet master would need inside help—someone to bribe the event coordinators, sabotage the equipment, set up the near-accident with the advertising boards, and plant a sedative in the resting area ahead of time.

"These goons… they're just pawns," Sherman realized. "Someone else is pulling the strings, aren't they?"

Kellan's gaze turned colder than ice. "Some people have a real knack for digging their own graves."