Taking out my phone, I check my email for the third time. As expected, nothing’s happened since three minutes ago, so I put the phone away again and consider walking over to the bar to get myself a drink. I’ve been abstaining all night to keep my reflexes sharp in case of danger, but one beer shouldn’t impact anything.

Still, I decide against it. Even though several of my guards are sprinkled throughout the club, I don’t feel comfortable having Nora out of sight for more than a couple of minutes. I would’ve even waited in that line with her, but the curving hallway is so narrow that there’s only room for the women and the occasional man pushing his way through.

So I wait, amusing myself by watching the dancers on the floor. With all the grinding bodies, the atmosphere is heavily sexual, but the flickering lights and pulsing beat do nothing for me. Without Nora in my arms to excite me, I might as well be standing on a street corner watching grass grow.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, distracting me from my thoughts. Pulling it out, I look at Nora’s message and frown.

Did Rosa walk by you? Do you see her anywhere?

Stepping away from the wall again, I glance into the hallway. I don’t see either Rosa or Nora there, but the girl who was behind Nora in line is still waiting her turn.

Satisfied that Nora must be inside the bathroom, I turn to survey the club, searching for a yellow dress in the crowd. It’s hard to see, with all the people and the dim lighting, but Rosa’s dress is bright enough that I should be able to spot her.

I don’t see anything, though. Not by the bar and not on the dance floor.

Starting to feel uneasy, I push through the crowd to get to the other side of the bar and look again.

Nothing. No yellow dress anywhere.

My unease morphs into full-blown alarm. Grabbing the phone again, I check the location of Nora’s trackers.

She’s still in the bathroom or right next to it.

Feeling marginally calmer, I message Lucas to put the men on alert and text Nora my response before pushing my way back toward the restrooms. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I need to have Nora with me. Right now. My instincts are screaming that something’s wrong, and I won’t relax until I have her securely by my side.

When I get to the hallway, I see that the line of women is even longer now, and there’s even a line to the men’s room. The narrow hallway is completely blocked, so I begin to shove people aside, ignoring their shouts of outrage.

Nora is not in this line, though the trackers indicate she’s nearby. She’s also not in the women’s bathroom, I realize as I pass by it. According to my tracking app, she’s about thirty feet ahead, a bit to the left of the curving hallway. The crowd clears out past this point, and I pick up the pace, my worry intensifying.