Part 2: Tracking Through the Snow
Jackson moved cautiously, Scout leading, Emily close behind. Each step sank into snow, every shadow a potential threat. The storm blurred everything, muffled sounds, twisted shapes into illusions of danger.
“Keep close,” Jackson whispered. “Scout knows the way.”
The trail led to a small clearing, partially hidden by pines. Drag marks ended abruptly. Snow disturbed, frozen jaggedly. Something had been left—or taken—too deliberately to be random. Scout growled low, warning. Jackson’s hand hovered over his firearm.
Emily, wrapped tightly, tried to speak. “They… they know the terrain… they know the storm… and they’re not after money.” Her voice shook. “They want Donovan Blackwell freed… before dawn. If we… fail…” She couldn’t finish. Jackson understood without words. Kidnappers this precise didn’t make mistakes. Every second mattered.
