You didn’t expect to feel overwhelmed this fast.

One second you were laughing with your friend near the makeshift bar, and the next she was pressing a bottle into your hand, already half-drunk herself.

“Come onnnn, it’s your first time! Just— just do it!” she giggled, tipping the bottle toward your mouth before you could react.

“Wait— stop—” you protested, but she ignored it, lifting the bottle higher.

Cold liquid rushed against your lips, then into your mouth, too fast, burning your throat. You coughed, choking, pushing her wrist away as she tried to force more.

Your eyes watered. The room tilted. People around you barely even looked.

But Rafe did.

He saw everything from across the room — the way you flinched, the way your friend laughed like it was funny, the way your breathing stuttered as you tried to swallow and ended up coughing instead.

His expression changed instantly. The careless smirk wiped clean. Jaw tight. Eyes sharp.

He moved before you even registered he was coming.

“Hey.” His voice cut through the noise like a knife.

Your friend turned, sloppy grin wide. “Rafe! We’re just—”

He didn’t even look at her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, firm but controlled, lowering the bottle away from your face.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said, tone calm but dangerous.

She froze. “I—I was just helping her loosen up—”

“She said stop,” Rafe snapped, eyes burning into her until she backed away.

Then he stepped directly in front of you, blocking you from everyone else — your view filled only with his chest, his shoulders, his piercing eyes scanning your face.

“Hey,” he said softer now, hand cupping the side of your jaw so he could tilt your head slightly. “You with me?”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah… I think so.”

He noticed the way your hands shook. “How much did she make you drink?”

“Not— not much. I didn’t want to. She just—”

“I know.” His thumb brushed your cheek, checking for tears you didn’t even realize had formed. “You okay?”

You nod, feeling small under the intensity of his attention.

Rafe’s jaw clenched again — not at you, but at everyone else.

He leaned close, voice low near your ear. “You don’t drink unless you want to. Ever. Not for her. Not for anyone.”

His hand slipped to the small of your back, grounding you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He led you through the crowd with his jacket draped over your shoulders, his pace slow enough for you to steady yourself but firm enough that no one dared stop you.

As soon as you stepped outside into the cool air, you exhaled shakily. Rafe watched you like he was memorizing every breath.

“You’re not doing this alone,” he said. “Not tonight.”

And for the first time all night, you felt safe.