–Livana–
My sister was already screaming at the top of her lungs, waving her money gun like a maniac. She had it locked and loaded, dancing along with the music while the muscular strippers worked the stage in a seamless rhythm of hip-hop—or whatever genre this sensual chaos fell under. They were still fully dressed for now, likely saving the reveal for later.
Next to her, Grandma Olivia was in full swing, raising her margarita mid-cheer. The boys? I assumed they were watching the show, or at least pretending to.
My senses are unusually sharp when it comes to my family's safety. A subtle shiver crept down my nape—a warning. Someone was watching us, and not for fun. Assassins or enemies, perhaps those still after my sister. I slowly turned my head as more women approached our round booth, squealing and crowding toward the table. The female bodyguards politely but firmly redirected them.
