725 Days With My Alpha Stepbrothers

Stephanie's POV:

The entire room pulsed with the beat of the music, every surface vibrating with the energy of the crowd. Strobe lights flashed in time with the bass, casting the dance floor in bursts of bright white and shadow. The DJ's beats rolled out in waves, each drop hitting like a pulse, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, weaving through the sweaty bodies pressed too close for comfort. The air was thick with heat and the unmistakable smell of alcohol, everyone lost in the rhythm, grinding and swaying like they were hypnotized.

I finally reached the bar, gripping its edge for balance. “Where is the restroom?” I asked, my voice slurring slightly. The bartender didn't even glance my way, too busy mixing drinks for the endless stream of customers.

“Hello? Didn't you hear me?" I repeated louder this time, but I still didn't get his attention.

Frustrated, I tossed my purse onto the counter with an audible thud, and that got his attention. He stared at me with a questioning gaze.

“I need to pee,” I whispered.

“I can't hear you,” he shouted.

Before I could repeat myself, I felt a hand around my waist. I turned, relieved to see Claire, my best friend and practically my sister, standing beside me.

“Don't worry; I will take you,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos. “You shouldn't be wandering alone when you're drunk,”

“I'm not drunk,” I protested.

“Sure, Steph,” she replied. “I don't have the strength to argue with you right now,” she said. She guided me towards the restroom, her grip firm as if she knew I might stumble off course. Once we got there, she pushed me inside and shut the door behind me.

I was at the sink, washing my hands, when the door creaked open behind me.

“Claire, seriously, I'm fine,” I called out, assuming it was her checking on me yet again. But the silence that followed was unnerving. Claire was never this quiet.

“Claire?” I asked, turning around—only to find a complete stranger standing there. It was not just a stranger but a man. My stomach dropped. What the hell was a man doing in the lady's restroom? Well, that I didn't want to find out. My instincts screamed at me to leave immediately. This was creepy.

Without saying a word, I tried to walk past him, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist in a vice-like grip. Panic surged through me as the reality of the situation sank in. I was actually in real danger.

“Let go of me,” I yelled, twisting and pulling against his hold, but his grip only tightened.

“Claire! Help!” My voice cracked as I screamed, but the music outside drowned out my cries. No one was coming.

“Don’t waste your breath,” he said, his voice a low, menacing growl. “No one can hear you. They're too busy partying to care.”

He locked the door behind him, and my heart hammered in my chest. I could barely stand as he stepped closer, his imposing frame blocking any chance of escape.

I lashed out, kicking at him, but he anticipated my every move and dodged effortlessly. His hand clamped around my neck, squeezing just enough to make me gasp for air.

“Don't piss me off, slut,” he snarled, shoving me backward. My head hit the edge of the sink, pain exploding in my skull. Tears blurred my vision as his fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back until I was forced to look at him.

“Be a good girl, and this will be over quickly,” he hissed, his breath hot against my face. “No one needs to get hurt.”

Terror coursed through me as he bent closer, his nose brushing against my neck. I scrunched my nose in disgust because he reeked of alcohol. “You smell so fucking good, bitch,” he murmured, and bile rose in my throat.

His hands went to my thighs, caressing them before they found a way to my panties, tearing them away and smacking my ass. I have heard stories about girls being assaulted in clubs, but I didn't know I would one day be one of those girls.