The bar glows like a beacon through the chaos, and I push toward it with newfound determination.
Bodies part around me without acknowledgment, just another anonymous girl in the crowd, and I drink in anonymity like oxygen.
A woman nearby holds something pink and luminescent, the glass catching the strobing lights like liquid magic.
I don't know what it is and I don't really care.
I catch the bartender's eye and point at it, my voice swallowed by the bass before it leaves my throat. He nods, understanding, and slides an identical glass across the scarred wood without asking for ID or questions.
The first sip is sweet and sharp, burning a pleasant path down my throat. I've had champagne at galas, wine at formal dinners, always under my father's watchful eye, always measured and appropriate.
This is different. This tastes like rebellion.
A stranger beside me signals for another round, and when the bartender delivers, the man pushes a second glass toward me with a lazy smile.
He says something I can't hear over the music, but his meaning is clear enough.
A gift. No strings. Just the easy generosity of someone who doesn't know my name or my bloodline or my shame.
I drink both glasses because I've never built a tolerance. Because my father would be horrified. Because tonight I don't care about the consequences, and maybe I never will again.
The alcohol hits fast and hard, flooding my empty stomach, rushing to my head like the tide coming in.
The club's harsh lights blur into something soft and dreamy, edges smoothing until the whole world feels wrapped in gauze.
I lean toward the bartender, emboldened by the warmth spreading through my chest. He's older, world-weary, the kind of man who's heard every confession the darkness has to offer.
"This might be my only night of freedom," I tell him, and my words come out slightly slurred, loose in ways they've never been. "I need to make it unforgettable. Something I'll remember forever."
He studies me for a long moment. His eyes are human, no wolf lurking behind them, but they're sharp with the kind of knowing that comes from watching people at their most vulnerable.
Then he slides another drink across the counter—something darker this time, amber liquid that glows like trapped fire.
"On the house," he says. "For courage."
I drink it without hesitation, letting the burn chase away the last of my inhibitions.
The alcohol hits harder now, three drinks deep with nothing in my stomach. My head swims pleasantly, the club's harsh lights blurring into something soft and dreamy.
My body moves in ways dance class never taught me—fluid and instinctive, as if the rhythm has crawled inside my bones.
I'm spinning through the crowd like I finally belong. The hollow space inside my chest doesn't feel empty anymore.
It feels full of music and color and the press of strangers who see nothing when they look at me except a girl worth touching.
Two men find me in the chaos. I sense them before I see them—a shift in the air, a weight in my chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
They're tall, both of them. One broader with dark features, a shadow given form, all sharp edges and dangerous beauty. The other leaner, pale angles cutting through the darkness like frost on glass.
In the strobing lights, I can barely make out their faces. Just impressions. Sharp jaws and hungry eyes and mouths that look like they know secrets I want to learn.
But I feel their presence like a physical force. The power radiating off them is unmistakable, pressing against my skin even from a distance.
Alphas.
The broader one reaches me first, sliding into my space like he belongs there. His hand finds my hip, steadying me when I sway.
"Careful, little one." His voice is silk and sin, some Mediterranean accent curling around the words. "You'll fall."
"Maybe I want to fall," I hear myself say, bold in ways I've never been.
His laugh is low and dark. "Is that so?"
The leaner one appears at my other side, his presence cold where the other is heat. "She's drunk." His voice is clipped, Nordic. Disapproving.
"I'm free," I correct him, tilting my head back to meet his pale gaze. "There's a difference."
Something flickers in those frost-colored eyes. Interest, maybe. Or hunger. "Is there?"
"I've never been drunk before." I'm babbling now, the alcohol loosening my tongue. "Never been to a club. Never danced with strangers. Never done anything that wasn't planned and approved and…"
I gesture vaguely, nearly losing my balance. "Controlled."
The broader one's grip tightens on my hip. "A virgin to freedom, then."
"To everything that matters."
The words hang between us, heavier than I intended. The two men exchange a look over my head—a silent conversation I can't decipher.
"And what do you want?" the leaner one asks, his cold voice dropping to something rougher. "Tonight. Right now. What do you want?"
I should lie. Should deflect. Should remember that I'm a princess and these are strange Alphas and nothing good can come from this.
Instead, I tell the truth.
"I want to feel something real. I want one night where I'm not empty."
The broader one leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "We can help with that."
Hands find my hips. My waist. I'm sandwiched between them before I register the movement, their bodies pressed against mine from front and back as we move to the bass.
The broader one's chest is a solid heat against my spine. The leaner one's fingers grip my hip bones like he's already claiming them.
I'm drowning in sensation, in the cedar and smoke of one scent mingling with the frost and pine of another, in the knowledge that two of the most powerful creatures in this room want me.
The moment shatters when I spot Dominic.
He's pushing through the crowd maybe twenty feet away, his face tight with panic. Even from here, I can see his eyes flashing amber as his wolf surges toward the surface.
He's spotted me. He's coming.
My freedom is about to end.
The thought cuts through the haze like ice water, and I make a decision without thinking. My hands find both men's wrists, my grip desperate despite the drugs softening my edges.
"Help me." The words come out breathless, pleading. "Get me out of here. Please."
They don't ask questions. They don't hesitate.
The broader one wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. The leaner one turns and cuts a path through the crowd, his presence alone making bodies part like water around a stone.
Within seconds we're through a back exit I never noticed, tumbling into the cool night air. The temperature shocks my heated skin, but there's no time to adjust.
A taxi idles at the curb like fate placed it there.
The three of us pile inside, and I'm sandwiched between two wolves whose names I never asked. Whose faces I still can't quite focus on. Whose scents are wrapping around me like promises of everything I've been denied.
The taxi pulls away from the curb just as the back door bursts open behind us.
Dominic stands in the alley, chest heaving, eyes blazing amber—but he's too late.
I'm already gone.