It had to be Mallory.
The timing, the location, the sudden interest in Onyxheim and the castle. It all snapped together with sickening clarity. Ruecrags’ network had eyes everywhere. They’d been watching him for years with no real interaction.
Until now. Now that they were watching her, too.
Jakob’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Sir?” Viggo said cautiously. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Jakob replied. “I’m not.”
He turned back to the prisoners, fury coiling tight in his chest.
“Who is she?” he demanded, holding up the phone. “Who were you sent to find?”
Blank faces.
“Answer me.”
Nothing.
Jakob felt something dangerous stir beneath his ribs, a low burn of power that had nothing to do with the winter air. His dragon was too close to the surface.
“If any harm comes to her,” he said quietly, “you will regret your silence for the rest of your very short lives.”
The injured men exchanged glances, but none of them spoke.
Jakob straightened and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Secure them,” he ordered. “Lock them down. I’ll deal with the questions later.”
Viggo hesitated. “Sir, protocol dictates—”
“Protocol can wait,” Jakob snapped. “Right now I need to know where Mallory is.”
Understanding flashed across Viggo’s face. “Of course.”
Jakob didn’t wait for anything else and strode back through the castle doors. His boots echoed against polished stone as he headed straight for the guest wing.
Every step was driven by a single thought.
Please be in your room. Please be safe.
He knocked once. Twice.
No answer.
“Mallory?” he called.
Silence.
Jakob tried the handle. Locked.
“Housekeeping said she returned about an hour ago but then left again,” a passing maid offered nervously. “I haven’t seen her since.”
An hour. Right around the time he had left her to deal with the security issue. Jakob’s pulse kicked harder.
He checked the dining hall, the lounge, even the small library she’d mentioned liking. No sign of her. No coat at the door. No cheerful voice drifting down the corridors.
She was gone.
