The morning light filtered softly through the dusty windows, casting long, stretching shadows across the cluttered counter.

You paced back and forth, eyes glued to your phone, frustration building with every unreturned text. “Dude, where are you?” Your thumb hovered over the screen, typing and erasing, the weight of worry pressing in on you. JJ was hours late. The others had gone off with the blue crown hunt, leaving you behind to watch over Poguelandia. You’d been waiting long enough to make your bones ache with the stillness. All you had was that damn note left on the Twinkie, promising to catch up soon, but now? Now, nothing. Silence.

The doorbell chimes softly, barely breaking through your thoughts. You don’t look up right away, still too lost in your anxiety.

“Hey, can I help you?” you murmur, barely glancing up, voice distracted.

Then the voice cuts through everything—deep, calm, with an edge that makes you freeze.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

Your heart skips, and your eyes snap up.

There, standing in the doorway, is Rafe Cameron.

His expression is casual, his hands shoved in his pockets like nothing’s out of place, nothing’s wrong. His smile—if you could even call it that—is unsettling, as if he’s been waiting for this moment, too.

“Hey, {{user}}.”

You feel your muscles tense at the sound of your name, instinctively stepping back. You don’t want this. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened.

The escape. The fear. The tension that’s never quite left, still lingering like smoke in the air, choking the space between you.

You didn’t want to see him again, didn’t want to deal with the memories he dragged with him—especially not now.

But here he is. And that smile of his? It only makes the pit in your stomach grow deeper.

He wasn’t someone you trusted. Not then. Not now.