Kat stumbled back into the VIP section, hair damp, chest heaving, and a rush of heat still prickling across her skin. Her vinyl dress clung in all the wrong ways, and her pulse still thrummed with the memory of the twins pressed close, their hands and lips leaving marks she didn't entirely regret.
Beth, Arden, and Nyra were already waiting, their laughter filling the booth before she even reached it.
"Well?" Beth asked, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Did they survive, or should we have called the paramedics?"
Arden leaned forward, grinning wickedly. "Judging by the flush on your cheeks, I'm guessing they didn't stand a chance."
Nyra smirked, eyes glinting. "And you didn't die either, huh? Good. That would've ruined my evening."
Kat rolled her eyes but couldn't help the grin tugging at her lips. "Shut up. You're just jealous you didn't get to see it up close."
The girls cackled and immediately started digging into the bottle of shots Beth had ordered. Kat sank back against the leather, feeling the burn of alcohol start to spread, loosening the tension in her shoulders. Arden challenged her to a round, Nyra kept egging her on, and Beth... well, Beth was already neck-deep in chaos.
Minutes passed in a blur of laughter, toasts, and bold, reckless dares. Kat let herself sink fully into it, letting the night's heat, embarrassment, and exhilaration wash over her.
By the time the bottle was nearly empty, the three girls were wobbling dangerously, giggling so hard they could barely speak. Kat tried to help, swaying on the leather bench, head spinning pleasantly from both the alcohol and adrenaline.
A familiar, steady presence appeared at the edge of her vision: Butch and Z.
"We're taking you ladies to the van," Butch said, voice flat but his eyes twinkling with barely restrained amusement. "You're done here before you break something—or yourselves."
Kat groaned dramatically, throwing herself onto Beth first, then Arden, then Nyra. "I do not need help walking," she slurred.
"You do," Z replied, shaking his head, though the hint of a smile betrayed him. "Now move."
The four of them were hauled out, stumbling but still laughing, every one of them glowing with reckless energy. Kat glanced back at the club, the bass, the flashing lights, and even the chaos of the night. It had been wild, uncontrolled, and exactly what she needed... if she ignored the tiny gnawing thought of V somewhere, somewhere watching, spiraling as he always did.
She tilted her head back against the van seat, still grinning like an idiot. "Next round, ladies?"
Beth laughed, though her words were slurred. "Next round... in a week, maybe."
Arden groaned. "You're insane."
Nyra just shook her head, smirking. "Insane and brilliant. Perfect combo."
Kat leaned back, eyes half-closed, letting herself bask in the chaos she'd created, the laughter, and the electric, unrepentant feeling of freedom.
The van bounced over the dark roads, Kat leaning heavily against Butch, who grunted under her weight as he drove. Z was in the back, keeping the other three girls upright as best he could. Laughter bubbled from the back, slurred and reckless, punctuated with the occasional hiccup.
"You're... insane," Arden mumbled, collapsing sideways against Z's shoulder.
"You're... awesome," Nyra corrected, barely able to keep her head up.
Kat's voice came next, muffled against Butch's chest. "Stop... touching me." She giggled, swinging an arm lazily. "I mean... thanks."
Butch grunted, keeping her steady. "Shut up. You're not dying on my watch."
When they finally arrived at the mansion, the scene inside was predictable. Wrath and Rhage were stationed near the main hall, each eyeing their women with a mixture of amusement, possessiveness, and warning.
"Don't even think about leaving her like this," Wrath growled as Butch carried Kat in his arms, her head lolled back, mouth open in a soft, drunken sigh.
"I'm not," Butch muttered, dragging her toward the stairs. Kat's boots hit the steps lightly as he half-carried, half-supported her. "Bed. Now."
Kat blinked slowly, trying to focus. "I... can walk..."
"You can't," Butch said firmly, voice calm but steel underneath. "So stop arguing."
By the time they reached her room, Kat was slumped against him, limbs loose and unsteady. Butch set her down gently on her bed, tucking the covers around her as she mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled into the pillow.
"Sleep," he said simply, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You've earned it. Chaos and all."
She tried to protest, slurring a "Thanks... or whatever," before collapsing fully into the mattress, finally still.
Butch stood over her for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the tiny traces of her mischief still lingering even in drunken sleep. His jaw tightened, frustration and something else coiling in his gut.
Without a word, he left her room, stepping silently through the mansion, thoughts already turning to V.
V.
He'd been spiraling all night, probably still spiraling, and Butch knew exactly where he'd go—finding him, either obsessively staring at cameras or pacing the penthouse like a caged animal.
Butch tightened his jaw. Time to deal with that mess before it got worse.
