ISABELLA’S POV
"I think someone’s coming," I whispered, breath catching in my throat.
Jace didn’t hesitate. His grip tightened around my waist and with a sudden jerk, he pulled me aside. We crouched low behind a tall floral centerpiece, barely breathing. His phone was already in his hand, the screen casting a faint glow on his furrowed face.
“If maintenance wants to keep their jobs,” he growled under his breath, “they better get the lights back on in ten seconds or less.” He tapped the call icon, voice clipped. “Do I need to remind you how to do your f*****g job?” He growled into the phone.
Around us, panic thickened. A woman shrieked somewhere near the bar. More gasps followed, then murmurs rising in waves. Guests switched on their phone flashlights, beams cutting through the dark lik
