Daggermouth

A heavy quiet fell over the bar. Even the most hardened assassins seemed affected by the raw conviction in his voice. Jaeger drummed his fingers against the table once, twice, three times. Then he reached for the bottle, pouring another shot.

“Three days,” Jaeger finally said. “Give me three days to gather better intelligence, to put a proper plan together. My contacts in the Heart are working on locating her exact position in the tower, the security protocols, the guard rotations. If we’re going to do this, we do it right.”

Jameson hesitated, weighing the offer against his desperate need to act immediately. “Three days,” he agreed after a long pause. “Not one hour more.”

Jaeger nodded once, then raised his glass. “To Kael. May she still be Shade when we find her.”

Jameson squared his shoulders. “She will be.”

He turned to leave, feeling the weight of Jaeger’s gaze on his back. This time, no one mocked him, only stepped aside so he could pass.

At the door, Jaeger’s voice called after him. “Vine.”

Jameson paused, looking back over his shoulder.

“If you try to go in alone before our three days are up,” Jaeger said, his voice carrying easily through the silent bar, “I’ll have you killed before you reach the Cardinal checkpoint. For her sake, not mine. A failed rescue attempt will only ensure her execution.”

Their eyes locked across the room, predator recognizing predator.

“Three days,” Jameson repeated. “After that, I’m going in—with or without your Daggermouths.”

He pushed through the door without waiting for a response, stepping back into the cold Boundary night. He let a deep, shuttered breath pass over his lips, finally allowing himself to truly feel the fear of what would come next.

Jameson looked up at the Heart, its spires gleaming against the stormy sky like daggers poised over the city as he melted into the shadows, already plotting his next move.

Somewhere in that cage, Shadera waited—alive but captive, turned into a symbol against her will, caught in Maximus Serel’s web.

Three days to plan. Three days to prepare. Three days to imagine what they might be doing to her in that tower of glass and metal.

Three days to honor his promise to Jaeger. If anything happened to her before then—if any word came that she was being hurt, tortured, prepared for execution—no force in New Found Haven would stop him from burning the Heart to the ground to find her.

Some promises were made to be broken. And some people were worth dying for.