The summer heat clings to your skin like a second layer, the salt air from the marsh thick with the buzz of secrets. Outer Banks doesn’t forgive, not really. It remembers. So does Rafe.

You shouldn’t be here—this house, this moment, this boy with hurricane eyes and hands that don’t know softness. But you are. You always are.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say, your voice a tremor, fragile and foreign in this house that never echoes kindness.

Rafe stands in the doorway like a bad habit you can’t quit, leaning against the frame with a cigarette that’s more ash than tobacco. He watches you the way predators do, with a lazy sort of patience that makes your stomach twist.

“You said that last time.” He takes a drag. Doesn’t blink. “But you keep coming back.”

You shove the duffel tighter, your hands shaking as you zip it closed. “Not this time.”

The words don’t sound convincing, even to you.

You can feel him move before you see it—the shift in air, the weight of his gaze. He’s in front of you in two long strides, cigarette discarded and smoldering on the floor like it knows how this ends.

“You think you can leave me?” His voice is quiet, but it coils around your throat, suffocating. “After everything?”

You want to tell him yes. That you should. That you will. But your mouth won’t open.

He lifts your chin with two fingers. Gentle. Cruel. “Let me make this easy for you.”

And then—six words, cold and heavy as the gun you once saw him hide beneath his mattress:

“If you leave, I’ll destroy you.”

They sit between you like a promise.

You know what he means. Not fire and fists. No—Rafe’s smarter than that. More patient. He’ll go after everything you love. Everything you’ve ever loved. Family. Friends. That quiet peace you’re trying to build somewhere far away.

His destruction comes in silence. In phone calls never made, reputations shattered with whispers. In the ache of your name twisted into a weapon.

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie.

He smiles, and it’s the most terrifying thing about him. “You should be.”

And the worst part?

You are.

But you still love him.

And you still don’t move.