The night air was thick with heat and tension, the storm rolling in off the coast like it was chasing them both. Lightning cracked in the distance, but you didn’t flinch.

You were done being scared.

The headlights lit up your face as Rafe stepped out of the car, the same fire in his eyes that used to terrify you—but now it only pulled you in deeper.

“Why are you here?” he asked, voice low, guarded.

You swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “Because I don’t want to run anymore. From this. From you.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.” You stepped forward, every nerve in your body on fire. “I used to be afraid of what loving you would mean. Of what it would cost me.”

He turned his back to you, fists clenched like he was trying to hold himself together. “I destroy everything I touch, you know that.”

You took another step, closing the space between you. “I’m not afraid anymore,” you whispered. “Of the chaos. Of the way you look at me like you want to consume me. I want it. I want you.”

His breath caught. He turned slowly, like the pull was too much to resist. Your eyes locked. Raw. Exposed. Honest.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he rasped.

“I’m asking for everything,” you said. “Even the darkness. Especially the darkness. Because I’m done pretending I don’t feel this.”

Silence wrapped around you both, heavy and electric.

Then, suddenly, his hands were on your waist, pushing you back against the hood of the car. Not rough, but intense. Desperate. Like he’d been starving for this. For you.

“You're not afraid anymore?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear.

You shook your head. “No. Hurt me. Save me. Love me. I don’t care how it ends.”

His mouth crashed onto yours—hot, aching, wild. Like a storm had finally broken loose inside him.

And in that kiss, in that moment, you knew.

You weren’t afraid of the fire anymore.

You were the fire.