The night was thick with humidity, the kind that made your skin slick and your heart beat faster than it should. Your breath came in ragged pulls as you ran, boots pounding against the dirt path that wound toward the old shack by the docks. The sound of the ocean crashed somewhere beyond, but it was drowned out by something worse—him.

Rafe Cameron. The golden boy turned nightmare.

You hadn’t meant to see it. You hadn’t. But now he was hunting you like a predator with the scent of blood in his nose. Your house—trashed. John B’s place—destroyed. Sarah’s room—ransacked. There was no hiding, no outrunning him.

And now, you were cornered.

The shack loomed ahead, boats bobbing gently in the dark water beyond, but the creak of the wooden boards gave you away. The second you stumbled inside, you heard it—the unmistakable scuff of boots behind you, the sound of trouble closing in.

Then, before you could spin around, he was there.

Rafe slammed the door shut, the echo loud as a gunshot. His eyes were wild, blue and stormy, his chest heaving as he stalked closer. His friends lingered outside, their shadows flickering in the moonlight, but it was Rafe’s presence that filled the room, that sucked the air right out of your lungs.

“You really thought you could hide from me?” His voice was low, dangerous, laced with fury and something darker—desperation. “After what you saw? After what you know?”

You backed up instinctively, hands out like that could stop him. Your spine hit cold metal—the side of an abandoned boat—and the chill of it seeped through your shirt, but it was nothing compared to the ice in your veins.

“Rafe—please—”

But he was done listening.

His hands were on you in a flash, fingers wrapping tight around your throat, pushing you hard against the boat’s hull. The metal groaned under the force. His breath was hot against your cheek, his grip firm enough to make your pulse hammer in your ears.

“Say it,” he snarled, his nose inches from yours. “Say you’ll keep your mouth shut. Say it.”

Your vision blurred at the edges, fear making everything sharper and hazier all at once. His thumb pressed just under your jaw, tilting your face so you had no choice but to look at him, to see the madness behind those blue eyes.

Outside, the wind howled through the cracked boards. Inside, your heart raced, trapped between survival and terror, your voice caught beneath his hand.