The 5am Club นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“More... confident. Like you’re ready for anything.” I smiled. “I am ready. For everything.” “That’s the spirit!” Amira said. “Tonight, we’re going to have fun and forget about all the bad things.” “Are we ready? Let’s hit the club.” THE CLUB The club wasn’t far from the pack. We drove to a nearby club. I hoped I wouldn’t see that piece of trash. Well, he wouldn’t come here since his pack was far away—but if I did see him, I was going to kill him. I’d show him no mercy.

When her phone buzzed at exactly 5 PM, she jumped up like she’d been electrocuted. That evening, I hit Clandestine – the kind of club where people dropped ten grand a month for anonymous membership and the discretion that came with it. Usually my go-to for uncomplicated physical release with women who understood the terms of engagement. But every woman I met was wrong. Too tall. Too brunette. Too eager. Too everything that wasn’t a specific short blonde with an organizational fetish and a stationery addiction. This was a problem.

The club was called The Secret club. Fitting. It was a dark, loud place where people went to forget who they were and what they’d done. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, spilled liquor, cheap perfume, and pure, unadulterated desperation. The bass from the music was a constant, heavy thump in my chest, a heartbeat that was not my own.

PURR CLUBHOUSE The devious music was flooding through the veins and flesh of everyone present, and the dance floor is full to the edges with dancing bodies rolling and rocking together in sin. The exclusive clubhouse is for elites, and that's why bouncers are staged everywhere in the entrances for coordination. There are rooms for darker sins in the inner parts of the club, but those who has zero control could be seen taking each other under the neon lights. The five guys got eye-raped by the girls begging for their dîck as they pushed past the crowd of rich youths in their twenties, searching for Dwan Miller.

So she picked up the towel and continued from where Tamara had stopped; at the first sight of her, she would be dashing out of the club. The club was empty, but she could hear the chatter of a few girls in the dressing room. This was no ordinary night; this was the last Friday night of the month, and on days like this, it was said that influential men, prominent gangsters, and external influences made this place their habitat. She wasn't sure how true it was; it could even be a bluff carried around by the girls, but she knew that on nights like this, the club closed early, and she was made to go home before ten.

She never accepted the rejection, like a little bitch, and now Ghost and me are reaping the consequences. Club Infinity is an exclusive club I own. The club is located only a short distance from the pack, in the middle of the nearest human city. At first, I considered creating the club strictly for supernaturals, a place where we can be ourselves, without having to worry about the humans. Then, I realized I could make something the humans would die to go to. And our pack is located on the outskirts of a college town with a military base. We are always having human military and college students attend and it brings in a shit ton of revenue. So, instead of an all-supernatural bar, I opted for

On our wedding day, my fiancée and brother died in a tragic crash, and the shock left my mother completely bedridden. Everyone blamed me, saying I brought misfortune and death to everyone around me. However, I didn't even have time to grieve. I worked myself to the bone, hauling concrete at construction sites by day and delivering food by night, just to afford my mother's medical bills. Then came the day I took a side job wearing a mascot suit for a grand opening event. One employee mentioned, "Our boss is super rich and handsome, and his wife is so sweet. Their family is so loving. They even rescue stray cats and dogs all the time!" I stayed quiet, only worried about whether I'd make it

She muttered something under her breath and disappeared into my office. At six that evening, I sat in a cafe on the corner and watched the access notifications on my phone. Clara and Julian had arrived at the Raven Club. The club occupied an unsigned brownstone squeezed between two luxury stores on Fifth Avenue. People who didn’t know better walked past and assumed it was a closed gallery. People who did know better understood that behind the black brass door sat investment-bank partners, family offices, retired senators, widows with terrifying trusts, and several old families who had cleaned their money so thoroughly nobody polite mentioned the dirt anymore.

9PM The Void Club Khaid’s routine on a non-mission night was clockwork. At 9:00 PM, he would arrive at The Void Club, a venue he partially owned, using it as a discrete command center and social surveillance hub. This time, he didn't enter as the bubbly life of the party. He entered through a private service entrance, bypassing the main crowd, and went directly to his secluded booth overlooking the main floor. The club was a dizzying blend of flashing lights, expensive clientele, and heavy, pulsating electronic music.

“It’s just not exactly easy to explain.” “Well, unless you’re needed back out there immediately, we’ve got all night,” I reply. He shakes his head slowly. “We work with a business. A private club, high-end, very selective. Bondage, kink, that kind of thing. Some of the guys here are members. The club has invested in it.” I watch him carefully as he continues. “That’s where I know Amber from. A few times, we’ve used a room together. It wasn’t a relationship, and it wasn’t anything emotional. It was just... what it was.”