the boat rocked gently beneath your feet as you stepped into the cramped cabin, a tray of food balanced in your hands. the air was thick with salt and tension, the hum of the engine barely masking the sound of rafe shifting against the ropes that bound him. he was tied to one of the metal support beams in the lower deck, wrists raw from struggling, eyes burning with frustration.

you didn’t look at him right away. instead, you set the tray down on the small table, the clink of the plate louder than it should’ve been in the silence. rafe couldn’t be trusted—not that it was breaking news. you’d known from the beginning. just because he was sarah’s brother didn’t mean he had a shred of decency. if anything, it made things worse. he wore charm like a mask, and you’d seen what was underneath.

“when are you guys gonna untie me?” he asked, voice strained, half pleading, half furious. “i can’t stand this.”

you turned to face him, arms crossed, eyes cold. “we can’t trust you, rafe. until we get to morocco, you’re staying down here.”

he laughed—a bitter, hollow sound that echoed off the metal walls. “you don’t trust me, {{user}}? you wanna talk about trust?! let’s talk about how you cheated on me!”

the words hit like a slap. you froze, jaw tightening, heart thudding against your ribs. he always knew how to twist the knife, how to drag the past into the present and make it bleed.

you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. instead, you turned on your heel and slammed the cabin door behind you, the sound reverberating through the hull. outside, the wind picked up, and rafe’s voice followed you—muffled, angry, relentless.

you gripped the railing, staring out at the endless stretch of ocean. morocco couldn’t come fast enough.