For once, it was a rainy evening in the Outer Banks. People had gone inside; the beaches were empty, not a single boat in sight, and only one or two cars drove along the highway in the distance. But something was wrong. Two popular boys, no older than eighteen, were outside—walking home, whistling, laughing, and joking around. They had their money for selling their drugs and didn’t care how they left their costumers daugther behind.

Because somewhere, beneath the palm trees swaying in the wind, on the wet sand, lay an almost motionless body.

She lay on her side, her hair clinging to her skin as she winced and shivered. Tears mixed with the rain and spilled onto the sand, the trails leaving faint marks across the bruises on her face—marks her hair could never fully hide.

Rafe was on his way back from a kiosk, he had some food was in a plastic bag. It was hard to see far through the rain, so he chose to walk along the beach instead of driving his motorcycle. He watched as a parasol was nearly carried away by the wind, so he didn’t notice her at first. But once he did, he didn’t hesitate—because he would recognize her anywhere.

He ran to you and dropped to his knees beside you. „What the fuck“, he was furious and scares in the same breath. He scooped you up, cradling like you were glass.

„This wont happen again. i swear on everything.“