Wicked Alpha, Defiant Luna

Sodom and Gomorrah Night

The club was packed, the air crackling with the energy of wild, hyped-up partygoers. She couldn’t help but laugh at the party’s theme: “Sodom and Gomorrah,” the infamous cities from the Bible destroyed for their sinful ways. These kids are insane, she thought, her amusement mixed with a sense of foreboding.

The theme on the chip had been a clue, but now that she was here, she had a nagging feeling that there was something deeper at play. The crest on the chip seemed to signify more than just a wild party—it felt like an invitation into something darker, a secret society or cult with an agenda Savannah wasn’t yet privy to.

Looking around, she couldn’t shake the eerie sense that this place was destined for ruin, as if the fire and brimstone of ancient legend would rain down tomorrow to purge it all. The partygoers seemed to be fully aware of the fleeting nature of the night, and they embraced it with abandon. Everyone had dressed to the nines in their most daring outfits, each person a vision of boldness and extravagance. The girls shimmered in gold, silver, red, and black, their glittering appearances standing out in sharp contrast to her more understated attire. The boys and girls alike seemed prepared for a night of excess, their faces glowing with youthful energy.

The cool air outside the club did nothing to dampen the heat inside. The music was deafening, vibrating the floor beneath Savannah’s feet as bodies pressed together on the crowded dance floor. The scent of cigarettes, alcohol, and s*x hung thick in the air. Couples were all around her, openly indulging in their passions, as if the night was their last opportunity to give in to desire.

Savannah felt a sense of detachment as she observed it all. She wasn’t part of this world, but tonight, she had to blend in.

Wyatt approached her, already visibly high, his movements slow and deliberate. The drugs in her drink hadn’t gone unnoticed—she could feel the subtle haze creeping into her mind as she pretended to enjoy the party. It was all a facade, but she played along, her eyes scanning the room. Joyce and her followers were at a table, laughing and drinking with a group of men. The loud music and flashing lights made it easy to forget that beneath the glamour, something darker was lurking.

Wyatt leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Don’t tell anyone about the invitation I gave you yesterday,” he warned. “This party is exclusive. With so many people here, you might have misunderstood. It’s not just a regular gathering; it’s... special.” He smiled, as if the mystery added to the allure.

He continued explaining, detailing the venue’s location—a few blocks from the school. The front had an Italian restaurant next to a Chinese one, their parking lots connected. But it was the back entrance and the separate elevators, guarded with tight security, that revealed the true nature of the event. This wasn’t just a party—it was something more insidious.

Savannah wasn’t unfamiliar with this kind of underworld activity. Ethan’s father owned a notorious house of excess and a high-end club catering exclusively to werewolves. Out of curiosity, Savannah had once sneaked into the establishment and witnessed a side of life she’d never known—a world of indulgence and excess, where rules were bent and pleasure had no limits. She wasn’t sure if this party was similar, but the feeling was unmistakable.

“So, what’s the big deal?” she asked, her voice laced with boredom as she surveyed the crowd. “You mentioned this was intriguing, but I’ve been to a few parties like this. They bore me. I’m bored, Wyatt.”

He flashed her a grin, clearly unconcerned by her indifference. “Relax, Jenny. Just wait and enjoy the party. It’ll get better, I promise.” His wink felt more like a challenge than reassurance. He brushed his hand against her thigh, but she caught it mid-motion, squeezing it with controlled firmness.

“Later, baby,” she said with a seductive smile. “I want to get excited first.” She leaned in close enough for him to hear her soft whisper. Wyatt’s eyes lit up with amusement and interest. He liked the challenge.

“I like that,” he replied, his tone almost a growl.

Joyce sauntered over to them, her arms possessively wrapped around Wyatt’s, the two of them a striking picture of an undeniable couple. But rather than the usual glare she sent Savannah’s way, Joyce wore a sly smile, one that oozed malice beneath the surface. It was a smile that said she had something in store, and Savannah could feel the weight of her intentions hanging in the air.

Without a word, Joyce noticed her glass was empty and promptly poured herself another drink, making sure the alcohol was generously filling the glass. Her eyes flickered over to Savannah, who was watching her every move. Without hesitation, Joyce raised her glass in a mocking toast, as if daring Savannah to take part in whatever twisted game she was playing. Savannah knew exactly what she wanted—she wanted her to drink the liquor, to become just another pawn in her game of control.

Savannah’s eyes locked with Joyce’s, a smirk dancing on her lips. As a server approached, Savannah made her move. She feigned a stumble, brushing against the waiter and knocking the drink from his tray in an exaggerated motion. The drink splashed onto the tray, and in the chaos of the moment, Savannah quickly pretended to take a sip, her hand steady despite the charade. Her grandfather had always been known for his skill in the underground world, a thief of unmatched dexterity, and she had inherited some of those talents. Joyce watched the whole thing, her smile growing wider, pleased that her plan appeared to be working.

Savannah wasn’t fooling around—this wasn’t just a party to her. She was still observing, watching every movement, every detail. As the music blared, she moved onto the dance floor, throwing herself into the rhythm with abandon. Her movements were bold and aggressive, but beneath her show of bravado, she knew exactly what she was doing. She needed to make herself a target, but also a difficult one. When Joyce’s triumphant grin spread across her face as she watched her dance, Savannah felt a smirk curl at the corner of her mouth. The game was only beginning.