He might not believe that Derek and the others would come back for him, but even with how much they might not get along... There's only so much suffering she'd wish on another person. Especially if it wasn't on her own terms. Vengeance is less sweet when it's tainted with someone else's anger.

The command forces her own steps to falter, crashing into a wall near the stairwell. To anyone passing by, she'd have just looked drunk, leaving her attempts to capture someone's attention for help to fall on deaf ears.

Great. This is just fucking great.

She's been left out as bait by her supposed pack and no one is coming to help her. She can push through it at first, keep moving to the stairs with difficult steps... But it comes at a price. By the time her hands connect with the sleek metal banister, she's panting, fighting the urge to collapse to her knees then and there. She all but bites back a scream when the few stragglers leave her to escape to the party on the dance floor as the DJ starts up one of the latest hits taking over the world.

Rather than giving up, she starts up the stairs on her hands and knees, modesty be damned. She'd rather get through this alive than keep the club from seeing her lacy underwear. It's not like anyone was paying attention to her anyways, she got away. Right?

Oh god, she can only hope she got far enough away because two steps in and forward momentum is practically impossible.