The night smells like rain and something electric — something wrong. Rafe’s standing there in the alley light, jaw tight, shoulders shaking like he’s holding the world still with his bare hands. You’ve seen him look angry before, cocky before, but never like this. Never hollow. Never hunted.

He doesn’t want you to see it — the dark around his eyes, the tremor in his breath, the secret trying to crawl out of him. His chest rises and falls too fast. You can almost hear the fight happening under his skin.

“Don’t come closer,” he says, voice rough. But you do. Because that’s what you always do. Because you love him even when he looks like a storm about to break.

When your fingertips brush his arm, he flinches — a sound catches in his throat. You swear it’s part growl, part plea.

“I’m not—” he starts, but the words fall apart. He drags his hands through his hair, pacing back, the world spinning with him. “You shouldn’t see me like this. I’m trying—” His voice cracks. “I’m trying to be good.”

The air between you hums, hot and cold all at once. His eyes find yours — too bright, too lost. There’s hunger there, yes, but it isn’t just for blood. It’s for you. For the quiet way you say his name, the safety you make him believe in.

He steps closer. You don’t move.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing you in like you’re oxygen. “You make me remember who I was,” he whispers. “Before all of this. Before it got this bad.”

Your pulse thrums against his hands where they cup your face. He feels it — every beat — and you see him fighting, holding on to every ounce of control left in him.

“I could hurt you,” he says, and you can tell he hates himself for even saying it. “But you won’t,” you answer.

Something softens. His breathing steadies. He looks at you like you’re a sunrise he doesn’t deserve.

“I don’t want the monster to win,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.”

You touch his cheek, trace the line of his jaw with your thumb. “Then don’t let it.”

And for a heartbeat, everything stops — the storm, the fear, the hunger. Just his eyes on yours, both of you shaking but still standing.

He exhales a broken laugh, leans closer, voice trembling against your skin: “You have no idea what you do to me.”