The flight had been tense from the start. Sheriff Peterkin was coming for Ward, and Rafe’s temper was already flaring. You knew he hated the idea of anyone threatening his family, but you weren’t prepared for the madness that was about to unfold.

Then it happened.

A single, sharp pop echoed through the cabin. You turned just in time to see Sheriff Peterkin crumple to the floor. Rafe’s gun smoke still hung in the air.

“No… no, no, no!” you shouted, rushing to her side. Your hands pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to make sense of what just happened. “Stay with me! Please!”

Rafe loomed over you, his eyes wild, but there was a strange calm in his voice. “I told you… I’ll handle it.”

“Rafe—she’s dying!” you yelled, panic coursing through your veins.

Ward’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and commanding. “Drag Y/N outta here! Put her in the car!”

Your chest tightened. You weren’t going anywhere. Not like this.

Before you could resist, Rafe scooped you up effortlessly, his arms strong and unyielding. “I said I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, almost tenderly, though the madness in his eyes didn’t fade. “Nobody’s touching you. Not now.”

You clung to him, half in terror, half in disbelief, as he carried you away from the scene—the cries, the blood, the horror—all fading behind you. And in that moment, one thing became terrifyingly clear: being with Rafe Cameron meant walking on the edge of chaos, where love and fear twisted together into something you couldn’t escape.