I never thought I’d miss the days when we partied until sunrise. Now, at 3 a.m., I’m wide awake because Stella is screaming—and so is the house next door. Again.

Kelly and I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the bass from Delta Psi Beta’s latest rave vibrating our baby monitor. We’ve tried talking, pleading, even bribing Teddy, their so-called leader. He promised it would be quiet. But promises mean nothing when you’re chasing Hall of Fame glory.

Last time, we called the cops anonymously. Big mistake. Officer Watkins ratted us out, and the next morning, our lawn was buried in rotting trash—and Stella nearly ate a condom.

Kelly turns to me, eyes sharp in the dark. 'We’re not getting through to them with rules, Mac. They don’t speak that language.'

She’s right. And I’m tired of losing.

So what’s the move? Do we escalate—really go after them? Or do we back down and find a new house, admit defeat? Or maybe… we turn their own game against them?