“Report,” Jakob barked.
Viggo fell back into step beside him after conversing with one of the others. His breath puffed out in hazy white clouds. “Six intruders. Possibly more on the outer ridge. They came over the wall with climbing gear. We intercepted them before they reached the dungeon wing.”
“Ruecrags,” Jakob said flatly.
“We believe so. There’s no reason to think otherwise.”
Another scuffle echoed from behind the stables. Jakob turned the corner in time to see one of his guards tackle a hooded man to the ground. Two more intruders were already restrained on their knees with their hands bound behind their backs.
The scene was chaotic but contained, exactly the way Jakob had trained his security teams to operate.
“They were trying to break their man out,” Viggo continued. “The one we captured the other day.”
Jakob’s jaw tightened. “Of course they were.”
He crossed to the nearest prisoner determined to get answers. An unkempt man with a bloody lip and a defiant expression glared at him as he approached.
“Who sent you?” Jakob demanded.
The man spat blood into the snow.
Jakob knelt in front of him, voice low and dangerous. “You’re on my property. You attacked my people. Start talking.”
Silence.
Another guard dragged forward an intruder who had taken a hard blow to the ribs. Jakob repeated the question but once again was met with nothing but stubborn, venomous stares.
They were either loyal or too terrified to talk. Possibly both.
“Search them,” Jakob ordered.
Within minutes his team began turning out pockets, confiscating knives, radios, and crude lock-picking tools. One ofthe guards approached Jakob holding up a battered cell phone sealed in a plastic pouch.
“Found this on the one who tried to run, sir.”
Jakob took it. The screen was cracked, but still functional.
“Anything useful?” Viggo asked.
“We’ll see.”
Surprised to see that there was no security on the phone to prevent him from doing so, Jakob swiped through the phone. He scrolled past call logs and random contacts with no recognition of names or numbers. At first it looked like nothing more than a burner phone with unremarkable messages about times and locations along with coded phrases that meant little without context.
From what he could tell, the phone wasn’t heavily used and frustration crept up his spine. But then one thread made him stop. A single text, sent earlier that day.
She’s back in town. Find her.
Jakob stared at the words. The various noises around him faded into a dull roar.
She.
Back in town.
Find her.
His blood went cold. There was no doubt in his mind who that message referred to.
Mallory.
