"Luckily, this dried grass hasn't gotten wet. It should last until dawn," Allison said, reappearing with a bundle of grass. Her fingers concealed a tiny, sharp blade.
She stirred the fire with a stick, her face illuminated by the flickering flames. A lock of loose hair fell over her eyes, revealing a dark glint.
Kellan, leaning against the stone wall, clutched a sharp stone, then dropped it. "Your bandaging skills are impressive. Did you learn them somewhere?" he asked.
"I was a bit of a tomboy as a kid and always got into trouble. I guess you could say practice made perfect," Allison replied firmly, avoiding his gaze.
Kellan chuckled. His story sounded rehearsed. If roughhousing could teach such advanced bandaging, who needed doctors? Still, he said softly, "You must be quite a prodigy."
"And your legs are a marvel of modern medicine, Mr. Lloyd," Allison retorted, her tone subtly acidic.
The air thickened with tension, amplifying the already strained atmosphere. Allison's fingers brushed the blade, poised to strike. Kellan might be skilled, but his handicap made him an easy target.
His reputation for ruthlessness stemmed from years of ruthless business dealings. Although Allison had dismissed the rumors, she knew his rapid rise within the Lloyd Group wasn't due to kindness. His wheelchair seemed to conceal something else. Now that she'd discovered part of his secret, he might act to protect himself from a threat he didn't even know she posed.
Breaking the silence, Allison smiled. "That necklace is quite striking."
He remembered the night on the cruise ship when they'd pointed a gun at him. Kellan twirled the necklace, his voice deep and husky. "The memory of a woman a quite intriguing and dangerous woman. It certainly piques one's curiosity to discover her true identity." Allison's combat skills on the cruise ship had been impressively professional, a far cry from the demure Mrs. Stevens the rumors portrayed. Kellan, ever the skeptic, wondered if their meeting was coincidence or something more sinister.
"Be careful, Mr. Lloyd. Curiosity can be a double-edged sword," Allison warned, throwing another log on the fire. Her expression was serene as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The flickering flames cast shadows, making her look both captivating and dangerous. "But that necklace is exquisite. The previous owner must have had exceptional taste."
Kellan laughed. She had a knack for self-praise, even with their unspoken understanding. It took guts to praise herself so subtly.
Allison looked up and smiled. "You're quite skilled yourself, Mr. Lloyd," he commented, his fingers lightly brushing the sword concealed in his hand.
Kellan's expression hardened. "Just a little play. But I appreciate your help, Miss Clarke." He knew Allison struck first. After all, that night he'd brandished a gun to coerce her.
The tension was palpable, their gazes locked in a silent duel. An invisible fog seemed to rise between them, filling the cave with unspoken threat. Only the crackling fire broke the silence.
"Oh, I almost forgot. I didn't get a good look at your wound earlier."
Allison stood and crouched before Kellan. He felt her hair brush his cheek. Then, she smiled softly. "You have a cut here. It doesn't look like a knife wound—rather, a branch scratched you." As she spoke, her cold fingertips brushed his chest. The small blade hidden between her ring and pinky fingers was dangerously close to his heart. "How about I take a closer look for you, Mr. Lloyd?" Her voice was warm and sweet, but the blade slipped easily through his fingers.