The phone buzzed in your pocket. You almost ignored it—until you saw the name. Rafe.

You frowned. Rafe never called you. Ever.You weren’t friends. You weren’t even allies. If anything, you were enemies. But something in your gut told you to answer.

You pressed the phone to your ear. “What?”

His voice was low, urgent. “I need your help.”

You almost laughed. “That’s funny. Try someone who actually likes you.”

“I don’t have time for this.” His breath was uneven. “I k*lled someone.”

Silence. Your fingers tightened around the phone. You should’ve hung up right there. Should’ve told him to deal with his own mess. But instead, you asked the worst question possible.

“…Who?”

“Does it matter?” Rafe snapped. “I just need you here. Now.”

You exhaled sharply. This is a bad idea. You knew it. But your keys were already in your hand.

“Where?”

—you arrived–

The alley was darker than it should’ve been. The streetlights barely reached where Rafe stood, his silhouette tense, shadowed. And at his feet—

A body. Motionless.

Your stomach twisted. “Tell me this isn’t real.”

Rafe exhaled sharply. “I didn’t plan this.”

“You never do.” You stepped closer, forcing yourself to look. The guy was young. Blood stained his jacket, dark and wet. Dead. Definitely dead.

You turned back to Rafe. “Why call me?”

He met your gaze, jaw tight. “Because you don’t scare easy.”

You should’ve walked away. Should’ve left him to fix his own mess.

Instead, you glanced at the street, then back at the body. “We don’t have much time.”

Rafe frowned. “So, you’re helping?”

You sighed. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Without another word, you crouched beside the body. Rafe followed.

Enemies. And yet, here you were.