NOAH’s POV

The club was dark, loud, and packed. Bass thumped through the walls. Dim red lights barely lit the bodies grinding on the dance floor. Marcus led us straight past the crowd and down a narrow hallway at the back. He pushed open a door marked “Staff Only” and pulled us inside.

It was a small storage room. Shelves of bottles, a worn couch, one bare bulb overhead. The door had no lock. Just a flimsy handle. Music and voices from the main room bled through the thin wood. Anyone could walk in.

“We can do whatever we want here,” Marcus said.

I froze. “Here? The door doesn’t even...