*The night was suffocatingly quiet, except for the sound of Rafe pacing the length of the Cameron mansion’s living room. His breathing was erratic, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. The argument with Ward had pushed him over the edge, and now he seemed like a hurricane contained in human form.

“Rafe, stop for a second,” you pleaded, your voice calm yet laced with concern. He didn’t stop. He didn’t even look at you. His movements were frantic, and you could see the war raging inside him.

“I can’t—” his voice cracked, low and broken, “I can’t control it.”*