The Boneyard was already getting out of hand.

JJ was standing on a surfboard yelling about something that made zero sense, Kiara was arguing with a drunk tourist, and John B kept scanning the crowd like he was waiting for the night to go bad.

Aaliyah felt it too.

Then Rafe Cameron showed up.

He didn’t arrive—he invaded. Expensive clothes, glassy eyes, jaw grinding like he was on something stronger than beer. He had a bottle in his hand and zero concern for who noticed. Kook confidence mixed with that unpredictable edge everyone knew too well.

“Great,” JJ muttered. “The psycho’s here.”

Kiara stiffened. “Why is he here?”

Rafe laughed loud at something no one else found funny and shoved past a couple of Pogues like they were nothing. He looked wired, restless, like the party was just another excuse to stay numb.

His eyes landed on Aaliyah.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t move. Just stared him down.

John B stepped closer to her, low voice. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “He’s not.”

Rafe wandered over, swaying slightly, gaze sharp despite how messed up he was. “Damn,” he said. “Pogues really will let anyone hang around, huh?”

JJ stepped forward immediately. “Careful, Cameron. You’re outnumbered.”

Rafe scoffed. “Please. You think I’m scared of you?”

“Not scared,” JJ shot back. “Just not welcome.”

Aaliyah crossed her arms. “You should leave.”

That wiped the smirk off his face.

“For real?” Rafe snapped. “You don’t run this beach.”

“No,” she said evenly. “But we know what happens when you’re around. Someone always gets hurt.”

Silence hit hard. The music kept going, but the space around them tightened.

Rafe’s laugh was sharp and ugly. “Wow. Guess the rumors are true. Pogues really do think they’re better than everyone.”

Kiara stepped in. “You’re drunk. Go home.”

Rafe’s hands shook as he lifted the bottle again. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

John B moved in front of Aaliyah without thinking. “Yeah, we do. Not tonight.”

For a moment, it looked like Rafe might swing. His eyes were wild, breathing uneven, like he was fighting something inside himself. Then he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “This place is trash anyway.”

He stumbled off toward the dunes, disappearing into the dark with his bottle and his bad choices.

JJ let out a breath. “Dude’s a ticking time bomb.”

Aaliyah watched the direction Rafe had gone, jaw tight. “Yeah. And bombs don’t just disappear.”

The Pogues stuck closer after that. No more laughing as loud, no more wandering off alone. Because everyone knew one thing—

When Rafe Cameron crossed paths with Pogues, it never ended clean.