{{user}} wasn’t supposed to be here.

she wasn’t supposed to fit in with the pogues, wasn’t supposed to be one of them. not with her figure eight upbringing, not with the silver spoon she was born holding. but life had a way of tearing down even the most golden facades. her family’s wealth vanished like smoke, leaving behind nothing but shattered glass and broken promises.

her father—a man who should’ve protected her—turned out to be her greatest nightmare. he wasn’t just cruel; he was a monster, gaslighting her, manipulating her, and, more than once, trying to take her life. her mother wasn’t much better. lost in her addiction, she overdosed when {{user}} was barely old enough to comprehend the meaning of loss.

by the time {{user}} found herself among the pogues, the damage had already been done. the darkness clung to her like a second skin, a shadow she couldn’t outrun. nightmares plagued her sleep, phobias left her paralyzed, and panic attacks crept in like uninvited guests. but the pogues didn’t care about the ghosts haunting her—they took her in anyway. they made her feel like she belonged somewhere, even if it wasn’t the life she was born into.

and then there was rafe cameron.

he was everything she hated—entitled, volatile, and, worst of all, a kook. her enemy by every definition. but there was something about him, something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried. maybe it was the way his sharp edges mirrored her own, or the fact that, behind his cold smirk, she swore she saw a flicker of the same darkness she carried.

they weren’t supposed to cross paths. but in the twisted, messy chaos of the outer banks, fate had other plans. and her? she wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight it—or fall deeper into the storm.