Rex pushed open the door to Victor’s office, stepping into the pulsating chaos of the bar’s main hall. The deafening music and the heavy blend of alcohol and smoke hit him like a wave. Standing in the doorway, he squinted at the flashing, multicolored lights that danced across the room, casting fleeting shadows on his face. Everything felt familiar—too familiar, and yet strangely distant.
His gaze locked onto the lounge area in the corner, a cluster of sagging sofas where his comrades lay scattered like broken chess pieces on a forgotten board. Mark was sprawled across the couch, snoring loudly, while Chris slumped over a table, clutching an empty bottle in his hand as if it were a lifeline. Eddie sat with a vacant stare, a half-empty glass dangling loosely from his fingers. The sight of
