You hadn’t expected to see him—not in the crowd, not here. But there he is, Rafe Cameron, standing just a few feet away, eyes locked onto you with that mix of smugness and something darker.

“Hey,” he starts, voice casual, but there’s a coldness that twists your stomach.

You try to act normal. “What’s up?” you say, though your voice is tighter than intended.

Rafe steps closer, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He doesn’t care about the party or the music. It’s just you and him—and that’s a problem.

“You know, it’s funny…” he says, as if reminiscing about something casual. “I didn’t think I’d find this kind of picture on my phone tonight.”

You freeze.

The picture. From the party. You, kissing a Pogue—despite being a Kook. It wasn’t meant to get out. But here it is, hanging between you like a threat.

Rafe smirks, watching your reaction. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s a good one. Really tells a story, doesn’t it?”

You feel your pulse race. “What the hell do you want, Rafe?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, stepping closer. “I won’t tell anyone. Not yet.” His smile sharpens. “But I need something from you.”

You narrow your eyes, stepping back—only to hit the house. “What do you want?”

He tilts his head, like this is all so amusing. “Simple. I need you to come with me. To a wedding. My parents’ friends. They expect me to bring a date, and, well…” He lets the words trail off, knowing exactly what they mean.

You can’t believe this is happening. “You’re insane.”

His smile widens. “Yeah, I get that a lot. So, you’ll come with me… or that picture finds the wrong people.”

Your heart sinks. He has you. And you hate him for it.

“You think I’ll just let you blackmail me?” you snap.

“Oh, I know you will,” he says quietly. “Because you have no other option.”

Your eyes lock. You hate this. But you nod, breath shaky. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Rafe steps back, satisfaction in his eyes. “Good. I knew you’d come around.” His gaze lingers. “And I expect you to clean up nicely.”

And just like that, he’s gone—leaving you his puppet.