Page 74 of Dangerous Vows

But words that appear in bold letters make my blood run cold.

Princess is gone.

Princess, my code name for her.

She’s gone, and my world stops.

No!

No, no, no.

I move before my brain fully processes what I’m doing, shovingthrough bodies, my breath coming too fast, my vision narrowing into a tunnel of rage and terror.

Not her. Not fucking her.

I hit Matteo’s number without thinking. He picks up on the first ring.

“Pietro?”

“She’s gone,” I grind out.

A pause. A breath. And then Matteo’s voice drops, sharp and lethal.

“Where are you?”

“The club. I don’t know what happened—she was at the penthouse, then she wasn’t. Something felt off, I should’ve—I fuckingshould’ve?—”

“I’m here. Calm down,” Matteo cuts in. “Keep your eyes open. Be careful. We don’t know if she left or if someone has taken her. I’ll send men to her apartment to check for her.” His collective manner is the reason he’s perfect to lead the family. He’s always cool in a crisis.

The line goes dead.

I don’t even need to ask. The family will rally.

If someone took her, war is coming.

I turn, scanning the room again, looking for anything out of place, as if the culprit is here. Face after face blurs together. But my mind is a fucking hurricane of panic and fury, and my pulse is a relentless drum in my skull.

Then, my phone vibrates again.

I barely breathe as I glance down. Afraid that it will be bad news.

Sarah

Amara is hurt. She needs you.

Hurt.

Not taken. Not dead. Not?—

I exhale sharply as my legs feel weak. I turn on my heel and run out of the club, already initiating a call back to Sarah’s number.

She picks up. “She’s bad, Pietro.”

“Where are you?”

“Our apartment,” she says, and I can tell she’s concerned.

I should be relieved she called.

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