You never should have gotten on that boat.

You knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, especially when his moods shifted like the tide—one second burning with anger, the next unreadable. But when he told you to come with him, you did. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else.

Now, you’re stuck.

The engine died hours ago. The radio? Broken. Your phone? Dead. Just like his. No signal, no landmarks, just an endless stretch of black ocean swallowing the horizon. The only sounds are the water lapping against the hull and the occasional creak of the boat as it drifts.

Something feels wrong.

Neither of you speak at first. Rafe sits at the edge, staring into the water, fingers twitching against his knee. His breathing is slow, too controlled.

“You’re quiet,” you finally say, barely above the wind.

He exhales sharply. “Because I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

A long pause. “What happens if we don’t get back?”

Something cold curls in your stomach.

“Someone will find us,” you say, but the words feel like a lie.

Rafe lets out a hollow chuckle. “Yeah? Who?”

You open your mouth—then stop. You don’t have an answer.

Something shifts in the air. A creeping sensation crawls up your spine.

“Why did you bring me out here?” you whisper.

Rafe finally looks at you. The moon casts shadows over his face, unreadable.

“I don’t know.”

But you don’t believe him.

Because that feeling? That deep, instinctual fear? It isn’t just about being lost at sea. It’s about him.

Then—a sound.

A soft thud against the side of the boat.

You both freeze.

Another thud. Then… a slow, scraping noise, like something dragging against the hull from underneath.

You glance at Rafe, heart pounding. His face is completely still. He hears it too.

“What the hell was that?”

Silence.

Then—something knocks against the boat. Hard.

You don’t know what’s out there in the water.

But suddenly, you’re not sure if Rafe Cameron is the most dangerous thing on this boat anymore.