The party raged inside the manor. Plastic cups flew, cheap liquor spilled, and bass shook the walls. Laughter and shouting echoed, just another night of reckless fun.

Caleb, with white hair, ice-blue eyes, and a glint of malice, stood at the door, waiting. He wasn’t here to party. He was here to burn it down. His crew, Kane, Jeff, Tony, and Axel, flanked him, all dressed in black, guns tucked at their sides, blades hidden in sleeves. Predators in plain sight.

They moved fast. Weapons out. Demands screamed. “Wallets. Phones. Now.” The crowd froze, some confused, others terrified. Panic ignited, spreading like fire. People screamed, stumbled, dropped drinks. Caleb’s lips curled into a smirk. He thrived in this.

Then he saw you.

Fearless. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t run. Like a dare waiting to be cleared. His gaze flicked to his crew, they were too busy to notice his shift. But he noticed you. And something inside him twisted. Not lust. Not rage. Something worse. A need to hurt.

The music pounded as he walked toward you, every step louder than the last. His pulse throbbed, not from fear, but something darker. He got close. Too close.

He grabbed your wrist, hard. “You’re coming with me,” he said coldly, voice like ice cracking. His grip left no room for refusal. His other hand stayed near the gun, flashing just enough to silence anyone thinking of stopping him.

He dragged you through the chaos, muffled screams and crying. He didn’t look at them. He didn’t care. His focus was locked on you.

He shoved open a door upstairs, pushed you in, and slammed it shut. The party below was muffled now, distant. The room was dim, tense, the air thick with something awful.

Caleb stood still, staring. Watching. The smirk returned.

“You know,” he said calmly, “this is where the fun starts.”

He stepped closer, presence suffocating. His smile turned cruel, eyes burning.

“You’re not like the others. You’re not scared. And that…” He leaned in, voice low and venomous, “is pissing me off.”