In the serene hills near Athton, where the air was fresh and the landscape lush, Allison and Kellan shared an unusually peaceful silence. They worked in unison, packing dried bamboo shoots into Kellan's wheelchair, savoring this rare moment of tranquility.
"It's time to go back," Allison said, bracing her hands on the wheelchair, ready to push Kellan. But suddenly, her movement stopped. Her instincts, honed by experience with lethal threats, kicked in. She pushed the wheelchair forward, guiding Kellan to safety.
A man dressed entirely in black appeared, pointing a gun at Kellan. "Don't blame me, Kellan. You've made too many enemies," he sneered. Just as he was about to fire, a cold wind blew through. With a deft sideways movement, Allison flicked his wrist, sending the gun spiraling away.
"Come on!" Allison ordered urgently, her voice tight with worry. The assassin's skill was surprisingly professional, a rare trait in these times. Allison, though bewildered, focused on Kellan's safety, prioritizing his escape before confronting the threat.
Kellan, his brows furrowed with concern, gripped the wheelchair handles so tightly that the veins in his hands bulged. He had rarely revealed the truth about his legs. With one last push to propel Kellan to safety, Allison turned her full attention to the killer.
His movements were a blur of speed and precision. Despite the sudden turn of events, the man remained committed to his mission. He pulled a dagger from his boot and slashed lethally at Allison's throat. Allison saw the subtle, deadly movement but was in no position to exert much force. She held out her hand, ready to block the attack and disarm him, even if it meant wounding herself.
Instead of the expected pain, she saw Kellan, his face grim and determined, holding the killer's arm. Rising from the wheelchair, Kellan stood tall and imposing over the killer. Allison was momentarily stunned—a rare occurrence for her. She blurted out, "Your legs are…"
It was like witnessing a modern-day miracle. Kellan's sudden mobility at a critical moment seemed almost otherworldly. "Let's get this over with!" Kellan's determination was unmistakable.
The killer, unaware of Kellan's ruse, realized his information had been wrong. Kellan's supposed disability had been a deception. With Allison's skillful intervention, the mission was becoming increasingly dangerous. If the killer wanted any chance of survival, he had to fight with everything he had.
Resolute, he returned to action, his determination as unwavering as the approaching storm. In the dark, rainy night, the confrontation intensified. The assassin was relentless, aiming for Kellan's face. Kellan deflected the blow and asked, "Who sent you?"
"Kill me if you can!" the killer snapped defiantly.
Kellan thought for a moment, considering his list of suspects: someone knew his whereabouts and had hired this professional assassin out of deep hatred. Stretching his limbs, he considered the possible culprits, including his illegitimate siblings and, most of all, his stepmother's son, Hoyt Lloyd. The latter had once tried to bankrupt him on a cruise, and that score was far from settled.
Meanwhile, Allison was quick with her counterattacks. She delivered a knee to the assassin's stomach before executing a shoulder throw. A sickening snap rang out as her right hand, along with the dagger, struck his arm with brutal efficiency, severing it. Despite his severe wound, the man writhed, desperately trying to cut off the remaining flesh, like a lizard shedding its tail.
A gentle drizzle began to fall, washing away the smell of blood. Allison and Kellan fought in perfect harmony. In the darkness and rain, their movements were so synchronized it seemed as if they had rehearsed countless times. Allison struck from above while Kellan delivered precise kicks; their coordination was impeccable.
A sense of strange familiarity permeated the fight. As she watched Kellan's shirt cling to his sculpted abs and observed his movements, Allison found herself thinking. One word echoed in her mind: "Cruise!"