You broke up with Rafe, thought that it was over. That you finally got away. You moved out, blocked his number, changed your lock twice. But the truth is, Rafe Cameron never lets go of what’s his. Especially not you.

Not when you’re the only thing that ever made the chaos in his head quiet. Not when he knows your schedule down to the hour, your passwords by heart, the way your voice sounded when you were lying. He always knew when you were lying.

It’s been six weeks. You’ve been trying to move on. Tonight was supposed to help. It was your first date since the breakup, with some guy who was sweet in a forgettable way. You let him kiss you and that was your first mistake.

Now, as the lock clicks behind you and your apartment swallows you in quiet, your chest tightens. The air feels heavy.

You move slowly. Drop your keys. Every sound feels too loud. You tell yourself you’re being paranoid but your skin knows better. That crawling, icy tingle down your spine? You’ve felt it before.

You take a step toward the kitchen—

A hand slams over your mouth. An arm locks around your waist, dragging you back against a body you recognize instantly. Your scream catches in your throat as his breath fans against your ear.

“Shhh. Don’t make a sound,” Rafe whispers, lips brushing your skin. “You’ll wake the neighbors. And I’m trying to be good for you, remember?”

You thrash in his grip, nails clawing at his forearm, but he just laughs — a low, dark sound that vibrates against your spine.

“You really thought a stupid little date would make me disappear?” His grip tightens. You can feel his heart pounding. Or maybe it’s yours. “Baby, you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

And in that moment, you realize — he never left. He was just waiting.