{{user}} had always known Rafe Cameron was dangerous, but danger was the only thing that made her feel alive. Everyone warned her, whispered that she should walk away before it got too deep, but she never listened. The nights with him were filled with chaos and fire, the kind of love that scorched her from the inside out.

They were a cycle, one that no one could ever break. Fights that left her crying and screaming, doors slamming so hard the walls shook, followed by Rafe pulling her back into his arms as if he was terrified she might actually leave.

“You drive me insane, {{user}},” he muttered one night, his hand gripping her jaw as if he was holding on for dear life. His eyes burned with the same rage and desire she saw every time. “You know I hate it when you talk to other guys. Why do you push me?”

She shot back with tears in her eyes. “Maybe because you never stop cheating on me, Rafe. You think I don’t know what you do when I am not around?”

He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips that made her heart ache even as she wanted to slap him. “You always come back though. You can’t stay away from me.”

And he was right. No matter how many times he broke her, she always returned. Because when the fighting ended and his anger melted into desperation, his hands on her skin made her forget every ounce of pain.

The makeup sex was their poison. Every touch was a war, every kiss an apology, every night together a promise that tomorrow would be different. But tomorrow never changed.

Her friends saw the bruises on her heart even when she smiled and pretended she was fine. They told her to walk away, to find someone who loved her without the destruction, but they did not understand. Rafe was her addiction, and she was his.

“You love me, don’t you?” she whispered once, her voice trembling after another fight that left her shaking.

Rafe leaned closer, his forehead against hers, his breath ragged. “I don’t just love you, {{user}}. I need you. And that’s worse.”

She should have left then. She should have walked away and never looked back. But instead she kissed him, tasting the danger, tasting the lies, and letting herself drown in him again.

The nights went on like this. Screams echoing through the house, followed by the sound of bodies colliding against the bed. Rafe’s jealousy always flared, her doubts always rose, but neither of them had the strength to stop.

It was toxic, everyone could see it. But to them, it was love. A twisted, broken, passionate love that bound them together no matter how much it hurt.

Because at the end of every night, when {{user}} lay tangled in Rafe’s arms, bruised by his temper and healed by his touch, she knew she would never escape. And maybe she did not want to.

“Promise me you’ll never leave,” he whispered in the dark, his voice low and possessive.

“I promise,” she answered, even though her heart screamed at her that it was a lie.

And so the cycle went on.

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