Chapter 262

"It's laughable how easily your system was hacked," Kellan said, his face twisting with rage as he glared at the kidnapper. "Looks like your equipment's worth less than garbage."

"Take him down," Kellan ordered. "Don't let him die so easily."

"Yes, sir!" Sherman nodded sharply, immediately leading his team forward. Within moments, the kidnapper was overpowered and pinned to the ground. With the remote control device malfunctioning and the man's gun out of ammunition, the threat was neutralized.

Lorna, however, collapsed unconscious after the adrenaline wore off, her small body trembling. Kellan gently scooped her into his arms, cradling her close as he hurried back to the car.

Allison leaned out, a triumphant grin lighting her face as she waved her laptop. "Mr. Lloyd, I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to her." She swung her legs out of the car, taking Lorna from Kellan and carefully laying her inside. Her expression softened as she glanced at Lorna's flushed cheeks. "She spoke today," Allison murmured, her voice a mix of pride and concern. She brushed Lorna's forehead, which was burning with fever. "Lorna's got a fever," Allison said, frowning.

Before her words fully registered, the kidnapper, cornered by Kellan's men, made a desperate dash for the ocean. He leaped into the air, attempting to escape. But before Sherman's team could react, Floyd emerged from the water, flinging the kidnapper back onto the shore with a violent splash. The kidnapper clutched his head, groaning in agony.

"You guys are way too slow," Floyd quipped casually, shaking off the seawater. Handing the dazed man to Sherman, he ambled toward Allison, propping his chin on his hand with a playful grin. "How did I do? Pretty impressive, huh?" He winked, completely ignoring Kellan's stormy aura.

"With you, it's always one danger after another…" Allison began, shaking her head, her tone somber. "This isn't the time, Floyd. Lorna's in bad shape—she's running a high fever and she's unconscious."

The smile vanished from Floyd's face. He gently placed his hand on Lorna's forehead, his brows knitting together. "Yeah, it's the stress. The emotional rollercoaster must have been too much for her." He looked from Kellan to Allison, noticing their worry. A strange thought flitted through his mind: Lorna almost looks like their daughter.

"But don't worry too much," Floyd continued softly. "The fact that she cried and spoke means she's starting to heal. That's a good sign." He hadn't expected today's chaos to help Lorna, but it had come at a high cost. Kellan had been shot and was barely holding it together.

"Once we get her back, I'll give her some medication to bring down the fever. Let her rest for a few days. She'll be fine. In time, she might even regain her speech fully." He shifted his gaze to Kellan. "As for you, Mr. Lloyd, that shoulder wound needs immediate treatment. If we don't take care of it now, you risk infection."

Although Floyd was a psychiatrist, he was still a doctor; his medical instincts overrode the tension between them. It was then that Allison noticed Kellan's injury. The dark fabric of his suit jacket had masked the blood, but up close, she could see the deep crimson spreading across his chest.

"Floyd's right," Allison said, her voice firm but laced with concern. "You need to let him treat your wound. Sherman and I can handle the rest here. You need to rest. If you collapse, who's going to look after Lorna?"

Kellan clenched his jaw, then nodded reluctantly. "Fine."

His gaze shifted to the kidnapper being shoved into the trunk of a nearby car. Kellan's expression darkened, taking on a cold, menacing edge. "Ms. Clarke, don't dirty your hands with this," he said in a low, gravelly voice. "Sherman will deal with him. I'll make sure he regrets ever crossing me."

There was a chilling finality in his words, a promise of pain that made even Sherman pause. No one had ever pushed Kellan this far. Whoever was behind this would pay dearly.

Floyd, observing the exchange, raised an eyebrow. He'd always known Kellan as calm and calculating, but he'd never seen this bloodthirsty side. It reminded him of rumors he'd heard—stories of how Kellan had once taken down a mafia boss.

Floyd adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, unfazed. He just never expected someone like Kellan to get so close to Allison, who hated trouble. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Floyd's lips.

"Mr. Lloyd, while I'm just a psychiatrist, I do have some skill with physical wounds," he said smoothly.

Kellan gave him a terse nod. "Thank you." This time, the gratitude was genuine. Floyd had no stake in their games, and yet he'd come to help.

"No need to thank me," Floyd replied, his smile enigmatic. "Allison's the one who sent me the location. If you want to thank anyone, thank her." He glanced at Allison, his gaze warm yet knowing. "After all, what concerns her concerns me."

Kellan remained silent, his face unreadable. But one thing was clear: he and Floyd were not meant to get along.