Page 42 of Daggermouth

Jaeger raised his free hand, a minimal gesture that instantly relaxed the room. The scattered Daggermouths returned to their liquor and conversation without another glance at Jameson.

The bartender appeared at Jameson’s side, with a bottle of amber liquid and two glasses. Jaeger grunted his approval as the bartender set them on the table and retreated.

Still silent, Jaeger finally pocketed his coin and unscrewed the bottle, pouring two fingers of whiskey into each glass. He pushed one toward Jameson and nodded his silent command.

Jameson didn’t sit, but he took the glass, recognizing the ritual. In the Boundary, in the Wolf’s Head, information had a price. Sometimes that price was sharing poison before secrets were spilled. He threw back the whiskey in one smooth motion, feeling it burn down his throat. Across from him, Jaeger did the same.

Only then did Jaeger speak, his voice low and graveled with age and authority. “She failed.”

Two words.

Two simple and devastating words.

Jameson’s hand tightened around the empty glass, his knuckles whitening.

“Three days ago,” Jaeger continued, setting his glass down and tracing the rim with his middle finger. “She managed to find the Executioner and put a bullet in him, but not a fatal one. We thought she was dead after that. The Heart doesn’t typically leave Daggermouths breathing.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath Jameson’s feet. Shadera didn’t fail. Not her.Not ever. And especially not with Greyson Serel, the target she’d been obsessing over for years.

“This morning,” Jaeger started again, refilling both glasses, “one of our informants in the Veyra sent word. Shade was taken to the prison beneath Haven Tower.”

Jameson sat then, his legs suddenly unable to support his weight. The chair creaked beneath him as he leaned forward, true panic beginning to radiate outward from his gut.

“And?”

Jaeger’s eyes finally met his, something like respect flickering in their depths as the corners of his lips crooked slightly up. “She started a fucking revolution from inside her cell.”

He took the second shot of whiskey, then rolled the glass in a circle around the bottom edge. “The informant said she was being removed from her cell when the prisoners found out what she had done. They startedsinging.”

“Singing?” Jameson’s brows furrowed.

“The old anthem. The one that’s been outlawed since the rise of New Found Haven. They sang it forher. That act marked Kael as their symbol, their fucking martyr.” Jaeger’s voice remained level, but something akin to dark amusement crept into his tone at the idea of Shadera being anyone’s savior. “The Veyra open fired. Killed most of them. But thedamage was done. Word is spreading through the city, trickling down from the Heart into the Cardinal and Boundary already.”

Jameson’s mind raced, piecing together the information, the implication of it all. The drones tracking him. The prison massacre. Shadera captive.

Shadera captive.

His throat felt like it was swelling at the thought, his heart convulsing. His hands that were always steady, that never trembled, began to shake. He clenched his fists, swallowing back the panic, and forced himself to focus.

“We received confirmation an hour ago that she’s still alive, for now. But past that, we don’t know what they intend to do with her,” Jaeger finished, pouring a third shot for each of them.

“Execution,” Jameson said immediately, the word tasting of bile. “They will hold an execution only for her, to send a message.”

Jaeger shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. If they wanted her dead, she’d be dead already. Maximus isn’t known for his patience with Daggermouths, especially ones who target his family. No, he wants something from her. Or is planning to use her somehow.”

Jameson knocked back the third shot without waiting for Jaeger, his thoughts spiraling, each one more terrible than the last. Torture. Interrogation. Public humiliation before death.

“They’re tracking me,” he said, gesturing to the broken drones. “High-level surveillance, military grade. Not standard Veyra protocol.”

Jaeger’s expression hardened. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“The night she left for the Heart.” Jameson’s jaw tightened as the memory of her walking away flashed behind his eyes. “I went to her warehouse before she left."

“Did she tell you anything? About the approach, the exit strategy?”

“No,” Jameson answered quietly, the sound of the word defeated.

Jaeger studied him, his eyes knowing just where to look, how to see what emotion was raging inside of Jameson without saying a word. Those eyes missed nothing.