The neon haze of the club pulsed to the rhythm of a hellish bassline, the air thick with alcohol, sweat, and sin. Loona slouched in a VIP booth, lazily swirling a glowing drink in her hand while Verosika sprawled across the couch, one leg draped over Dante’s lap.

Coco was already stirring trouble, challenging a drunk wrath demon to a knife-throwing contest. Across the room, Kiki was perched on the bar, chugging a bottle of neon-blue liquid while laughing hysterically.

Tex leaned against the booth, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. “So, what’s the over/under on someone getting decked in the next five minutes?”

Loona sighed, taking a slow drink. “I swear, I don’t know why I even came.”

Verosika smirked, stretching out. “Because deep down, you love it.”

Before Loona could argue, a random incubus tried sliding into the booth beside her. “Hey there, sweetheart—”

BAM.

Loona’s fist connected with his face, sending him tumbling onto the floor.

Verosika cackled. “Oh yeah. She definitely loves it.”

The music pounded louder. The drinks kept flowing. And the night was only getting started.