The salty breeze of the Outer Banks had a way of sticking to you like a bad habit—sharp, lingering, impossible to shake. Y/N figured that was why she could never really leave the life she and John B grew up in. Being a Pogue was inked into her skin, but she wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t soft like Kiara or goofy like JJ.

She was sharp. Reckless. Unapologetic.

A storm in a girl’s body.

And everyone knew it.

Maybe that was why she and Rafe Cameron fit so perfectly—two firecrackers lit at both ends. Two disasters waiting to ignite. He was dangerous, and she was just as wild. If the Pogues were the heart of the island, she was its teeth.

For two years, they tore through the OBX like chaos crowned them king and queen. Fights, late nights, bad choices, and worse decisions. They didn’t love gently—they loved like it was something to survive.

Until the night she found out he cheated.

It wasn’t even the betrayal that gutted her. It was the fact that he—the boy who matched her blow for blow, impulse for impulse—had chosen someone else in a moment of weakness. They were supposed to be untouchable.

So she walked.

He left.

And the island grew strangely quiet without their shared destruction.

A year passed. A quieter, steadier year. At least on the surface. But storms don’t just disappear—they simmer.

And today, the storm came back.

It happened at the old boatyard where the Pogues were sprawled around like always—John B on the deck, JJ throwing rocks at crabs, Kiara ranting about pollution, and Y/N leaning against the railing, boots up, iced tea in hand. Sunglasses hid most of her expression, but even without them, she always looked unreadable. Dangerous. Unbothered.

The rumble of a too-expensive engine made her jaw tighten.

A black Jeep rolled in—shiny, polished, so obnoxiously Kook it hurt to look at.

Rafe Cameron stepped out.

And she felt that old electricity hum under her skin.

He wasn’t the messy, chaotic boy she ran wild with. His buzzcut made him look sharper. Harder. His eyes colder. His whole presence screamed control instead of impulsiveness, discipline instead of raw chaos. Like he’d carved a new version of himself and dared the world to test him.

Sofia Harrington followed, practically glowing as she smoothed down her pastel sundress. Pure sweetness. A porcelain doll of a Kook girl who’d never done anything wrong in her perfect, manicured life.

Everything Y/N wasn’t.

Y/N was dirt under her fingernails and bruised knuckles. Sofia was silk blends and charity events. Sofia was safe. Y/N was a dagger.

Barry hopped out next, whistling low as he caught sight of her.

“Well ain’t this poetic,” he drawled with a smirk. “Hurricane Y/N. Back from the dead.”

Her lips curled in a smirk that could cut glass.

“Still running errands for Rafe, Barry? Thought you’d have upgraded by now.”

JJ muttered “oh shit,” under his breath.

Rafe’s eyes snapped to her—sharp, electric, way too aware. A mixture of memory and anger and something else he’d never admit.

He looked at her the way someone looks at a wildfire they used to control but no longer can.

And Y/N?

She didn’t look away.

She let her sunglasses slide down just enough to meet his eyes fully, openly, fearlessly.

Sofia slipped her hand into Rafe’s arm, but Y/N’s voice cut through the air first—smooth, lethal.

“Got yourself a princess now, huh?” she said. “Good for you. Must be a nice change… after me.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard she saw the muscle twitch.

Because he knew she wasn’t just his ex.

She was the only girl who ever scared him.

The only one who matched him.

And standing there, watching him try to pretend he’d moved on, Y/N realized something:

Their story wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

Chaos was back in the Outer Banks—and it was hungry.