Bryan led Rexan to his much livelier room, a stark contrast to the ominous vibe of his brother's.
Posters of rock bands plastered the walls, neon lights flickered in the corners, and the faint smell of something vaguely burnt lingered in the air.
He tossed the merchandise casually into her arms.
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as she hugged it tightly. "Thank you so much!"
It was The Plaguebringer Figurine from the cult-classic zombie film Rise of the Dead: Origins. She'd only ever seen it online, fetching absurd amounts of money in collectors' forums.
Its glowing red eyes and detailed "Scepter of Rot" made it even more magnificent in person.
Bryan smirked, leaning lazily against the doorframe. "How about a little kiss as a thank-you gift?"
Her smile vanished instantly. She stepped back, her grip on the merchandise tightening.
"Uh...yeah, no," she said, quickly reaching for the door. "I don't think so."
Bryan moved faster than she expected, his hand sliding over hers on the doorknob. His grin widened, the alcohol on his breath hitting her nose.
"Come on, just a small one. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me," he teased, leaning in closer.
Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. She hated this kind of attention, this kind of entitlement that made her skin crawl.
"I said no, Bryan. Move." Her voice was firmer now, though her pulse was racing.
His cocky demeanor faltered slightly, but before he could respond, a low voice rumbled from the hallway.
"Bryan."
Both of them froze.
Standing in the doorway was him, Bryan's older brother. The intensity in his eyes made the air in the room drop several degrees.
Bryan immediately stepped back, raising his hands defensively. "Relax, bro. We were just talking."
The older brother's gaze shifted to Rexan, who was clutching the merchandise like it was her lifeline. His sharp jaw tightened, and his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Out," he ordered Bryan, his voice carrying a quiet authority that left no room for argument.
Bryan hesitated, glancing at Rexan like he wanted to say something, but his brother's glare made him think twice.
With a frustrated groan, he grabbed his drink and stumbled out of the room.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Rexan swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the man who now blocked her only exit.
The way he stood there, arms crossed and radiating quiet power, made her feel like prey trapped under the watchful eyes of a predator.
"You okay?" he asked gruffly.
She nodded quickly, even though her voice betrayed her nerves. "Yeah, fine. Thanks for..." She gestured vaguely toward the door.
He didn't respond, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. He squeezed her shoulder gently
"It's okay. Leave this place, now."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with a racing heart and a swirl of emotions she didn't have time to unpack.
Rexan bolted out of the house, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.
The cool night breeze hit her face, but it did little to calm her pounding heart.
She stumbled onto the patio, the noise of the party fading into the background as fear clawed at her chest.
Her eyes darted wildly across the sea of high school students, searching for Benny.
Relief should have come when she spotted him, but instead, she rolled her eyes in frustration.
Benny, in all his glory, had his tongue deep down some woman's throat, completely oblivious to the chaos in her world.
"Of course," she muttered under her breath. "Useless as ever."
With no one to rely on, Rexan made a quick decision.
She wasn't about to stay a second longer in this madhouse.
Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she strode toward the road, the faint sound of laughter and music still echoing behind her.
She raised a hand to flag down a cab, her fingers trembling slightly.
The first car passed her by without stopping, but the second, a battered yellow cab with one flickering headlight, slowed to a halt.
"Royal Avenue, please," she told the driver as she climbed into the back seat, trying to steady her breathing.
The driver, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a cap pulled low over his face, gave a curt nod.
Without a word, he pulled away from the curb, the tires crunching on the gravel.
For the first few minutes, Rexan focused on calming herself.
The rhythmic hum of the engine and the city lights streaking past the windows soothed her nerves.
She let out a slow breath, finally allowing her mind to catch up with her body.
But then something tugged at her thoughts, a faint sense of unease.
She glanced out the window, frowning. The streets looked unfamiliar.
The driver was going the wrong way.