Page 73 of Dangerous Vows

Where is she? I panic but keep my gaze steady. I take a deep breath and force my breathing into a normal rhythm. If something happened to her, I’d be alerted.

But tonight, she’s nowhere. I haven’t seen her.

At first, I brushed it off—maybe she was running late, caught up in something. But now the minutes feel heavier. The noise around me fades, replaced by the pounding in my chest.

Something’s wrong.

I can feel it in my bones.

And the longer she’s gone, the worse it gets.

I should have run into her by now, leaning against the bar, throwing back an iced tea to stay awake. She is usually talking to a server or a patron, pretending I don’t exist—until I force her to look at me.

But tonight, I haven’t seen her.

I walk a slow lap with my eyes scanning every corner. The low red glow of the lights makes the crowd blur together in shifting shadows.

I’ve searched the club, and it’s not my imagination—she’s not here.

At first, I assumed she was tired, as she said.

Then I progress to the fact she thinks I’m an asshole.

Fair. I am an asshole.

Which then leads me to the conclusion that she must be pissed at me.

I left earlier than usual, which is rare for me, but she said she was tired. And maybe that was an excuse to avoid me. Maybe she didn’t want to be around me after the way I got inside her head last night.

Why hasn’t she texted me? With every passing minute, my annoyance bleeds into something else.

Concern.

Then dread.

I check my phone. Nothing. No messages.

That’s not like her.

My gut tightens, and my instincts are screaming like a fire alarm.

I text her, and I don’t get a response.

I’m in a panic as I take another pass around the club, slower this time. That’s when I see them—more strangers lurking in the dark corners of the bar, not drinking, not dancing, not even watching the dancers.

They’re waiting, but for what?

Something is about to go down.

I don’t like it.

I reach into my pocket, gripping the cool weight of my knife, my body humming with unease.

Then, my phone vibrates.

Once. Then again. And again.

My heart slams into my ribs as I yank it out, my thumb swiping across the screen, hoping it’s a text from Amara.

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