The doors swung open and the bass hit like a heartbeat too big for the room. Lights carved the dark into fragments—purple, blue, red—flickering over chrome and sweat. The boys were already there, fists pumping, champagne spraying, money falling like confetti. They moved as if the night belonged to them, untouchable, reckless, magnetic. Every glance, every gesture said the same thing: this is our kingdom, and tonight it has no end.
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