The bass thrummed through Ivy's bones, a raw, primal rhythm that mirrored the chaotic swirl in her head. Tomorrow. Her wedding. To a stranger. The thought was a bitter wine on her tongue, swallowed down with the actual wine in her glass.

Her tinted purple hair swayed wildly as she danced, a defiant kaleidoscope against the club's pulsing lights. This was her last night of freedom, and she was going to wring every drop of rebellion from it. She winked at the bartender, a fleeting spark of her usual vivacity, then drained her glass and stumbled deeper into the throng.

Men swarmed, drawn to her like moths to a flame, but none held her interest. Her dance partner was a flop, and her friend Elsa soon departed with her own conquest. Ivy checked her phone: 11:32 PM. Time was ticking. She needed something wild, something unforgettable, to mark this final defiant stand. A one-night stand. That was it.

She moved through the crowd, eyes scanning, until she found them. A group of five men, cloaked in black, huddled at a secluded table, their quiet intensity a stark contrast to the club's din. Instantly, she knew. Her gaze locked onto one, a man with sharp features and a dangerous allure. She pointed, a bold, drunken declaration.

"Mine."