The party was loud, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart as Rafe Cameron stood across the firelit beach, watching you.

You had spent months convincing yourself he was out of your life, that whatever you had was over. But the way he was looking at you now—jaw tight, hands clenched, eyes dark with something dangerous—made it clear that he wasn’t done.

You turned away, pretending not to notice. But the moment you laughed at something the guy next to you said, Rafe was there. His hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch burning, his voice low and sharp against your ear.

“Having fun?”

You ripped your arm away. “What the hell is your problem?”

His eyes flashed. “You. Acting like you’ve moved on.” He exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You really think he’s me?”

Anger flared in your chest. “Not everything is about you, Rafe.”

He scoffed, but there was something else beneath it—something raw, something real. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper.

“You think I don’t care?” He stepped closer, and suddenly, the space between you felt suffocating. “You think I don’t feel like losing my mind every time I see you with someone else?”

Your breath caught. For a second, the world around you blurred—the fire, the music, the people. All that was left was him.