The bass was thumping so hard it rattled Jordie’s ribs, lights flickering in blues and reds as she shoved through the club doors, her crew spilling in behind her. She was dressed sharp and mean—black tee tight over her chest, silver chain catching flashes of light, tattoos visible under the sleeves she’d rolled up. She looked like trouble and walked like she knew it.

The place was packed—bodies moving, drinks clinking, the air thick with sweat and sound. Jordie barely glanced at the crowd. She didn’t come here for anyone, really—just to blow off steam, maybe drink a little, maybe fight if someone was stupid. But then her eyes landed on her—up on the stage.

Her best friend. Dancing.

Time slammed to a halt.

The world around her blurred, music suddenly muffled. Jordie’s fists clenched at her sides, jaw locked. Her girl—her girl—was moving like sin itself, dressed in something Jordie had never seen before, all legs and glitter and skin and confidence. People were staring. Men, women, everyone. Cheering, whistling, leering.

Jordie felt a sharp, burning heat rise in her chest—rage, jealousy, and something raw she couldn’t name. One of the guys in the crowd reached up, fingers extended just a little too eagerly, and Jordie was moving before she even thought.

She shoved through the crowd like a storm, eyes fixed on the stage. One of her friends called her name, but she didn’t stop. Her stare was locked, dark and dangerous, every muscle in her body tense and ready to throw hands.

And as her best friend spun on the pole and smiled—at the crowd, at the moment, not at her—Jordie felt something snap.

She wasn’t going to just stand there while strangers ate up that smile like they deserved it.

She marched up to the edge of the stage, eyes blazing, voice low and lethal.

“The hell is this?” she growled, half to herself, half to her girl, but loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.

And when someone beside her whistled again, Jordie didn’t hesitate—she turned, stared the guy down, and muttered, “Try that again and I’ll cut your damn eyes out.”

The guy backed off. Jordie turned back, gaze locked on her best friend, heart pounding, fists still clenched.

She didn’t know if she was about to yell, drag her off stage, or fall apart.

But either way, no one else was walking out of this club thinking that girl belonged to anyone but her.