You weren’t the center of the party, but you were visible—pretty, alone, and that was enough. Topper and Kelce noticed. Their glances turned into grins, and the drink they handed you had more than just alcohol.

You felt it soon. The world tilted. Voices blurred. You tried to smile, stay steady, but your body wasn’t listening.

“Damn, she’s out of it,” Kelce muttered.

“She’s fine,” Topper smirked.

Rafe stepped into the room, not planning to stay long. He scanned the crowd, eyes narrowing when he saw you between them—slouched, dazed.

He approached, casual at first. “Didn’t know you two could pull a girl that far out of your league.”

Topper laughed. “Just being friendly.”

Rafe’s eyes landed on you. Your lip gloss was smudged, your cup nearly slipping from your fingers. “Hey,” he said, voice lowering. “You okay?”

You blinked, but didn’t answer. Your body swayed toward him.

His expression shifted. “What did you give her?”

Kelce raised a brow. “She drank it herself—”

“You drugged her?” His voice turned ice cold. “You sick fucks.”

Topper stepped back. “It’s not that serious—”

“To you maybe.” Rafe was already wrapping his arms around you. “She can’t even speak.”

You didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Your head dropped against his chest as he stormed out of the house, holding you close.

Outside, the cool air hit you like a wave. Then came the nausea.

“Put me down…” you whispered, weakly. “Gonna throw up…”

Rafe lowered you fast, holding your hair as you bent forward, trembling. His jaw was tight, fury still simmering.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice softer now. “They’re dead to me. Every single one of them.”

He stayed with you, holding your hair, steadying you—furious, protective, and no longer a stranger.