You didn’t know when it started, the feeling that something about Rafe was different. Not different in a way that made sense, but in a way that made your skin prickle with both curiosity and unease. He always had a way of watching you, lingering in the corners of rooms, his eyes a little too focused, a little too hungry. At first, it was just his usual intensity, something you’d grown used to—Rafe was intense, no doubt about that. But now... it was as though he was waiting for you to slip up, to do something wrong. To be his.

And you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always there.

He’d show up when you least expected him, pretending to be casual, but his presence was always suffocating, like a shadow that never quite left. When you spoke, his eyes would flicker, and you could feel him studying every word, every gesture, every expression on your face. You thought it was just your imagination, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t.

The night you decided to leave the party early, he was waiting by your car, leaning against the hood with that damn smirk on his face, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. The others had gone inside, but Rafe stayed outside, watching, always watching.

“Thought you could sneak off without saying goodbye?” His voice was low, almost playful, but there was an edge to it—something that made your heart beat a little faster.