Rafe Cameron. Drug lord with dangerous edges and even more dangerous issues. He was someone you’d never want to fuck around with. All your life, you were prim and proper, never once slipping between the cracks of the world beneath you.

Yet here you were.

Perched on his lap in a dress one size too small, hugging your body like a second skin. Rafe’s hands were all over you–one keeping you tight against him, and the other tucked right between your thighs, wandering.

The smell of smoke and drugs coated the air, choking you. But you pretended not to care, you pretended you belonged here, like it was your escape. When you know damn well it was anything but that.

You weren’t even the legal age to be here, yet you still were. Dragged by Rafe to come here, leaving your lavish, luxury life behind for a crack-head bar with drugs and alcohol scattered over every inch of the place.

Rafe took a drag of his joint, blowing it behind your ear. You cough, of course you slip up, losing your cool. Rafe doesn’t falter, he doesn’t even ask if you’re okay. He just watches as you calm down, clearing your throat.

Someone speaks up. “Rafe, she’s a little young, ain’t she?” An older man asks, snorting a line of cocaine like it’s nothing. “She even know what this shit’s called?” He motions to the drugs in front of him.

Rafe chuckles, his pupils blown and hair messed up. He was gone, ruined by the life he drowned himself in. “Fuck, I don’t even know.” He says, grabbing my chin.

“You know what that is, baby?” He slurs, his grip bruising.

“Drugs.” You reply bluntly, yanking away. Rafe looks shocked for a brief moment before slowly clapping. “Good job.” He says sarcastically.

You don’t say anything, how could you? You’d done this to yourself, there was no room for protest or arguing. This was quite literally your life now–you’ve wrecked everything else you’ve known for Rafe, everything.

This was the price you had to pay.