It was one of those Outer Banks nights — the kind that felt endless, warm, and heavy with salt in the air.

The rich kids — the Kooks — had set up a giant projector by the beach, just like they did every summer. A “movie night,” they called it. Loud laughter, golden cups filled with something stronger than soda, headlights from expensive cars lighting up the sand. The sound of waves mixing with whatever old film played on the screen, no one really watching it. It was more about being seen than seeing.

You showed up that night with your friends — Sarah, Kiara, and a few others — just another summer evening in Figure Eight. The beach was crowded, laughter spilling over the sound of crashing waves.

It was supposed to be simple fun. Movies, gossip, maybe a few drinks someone smuggled in. The kind of night you’d remember only in flashes — salt on your skin, sand sticking to your legs, the hum of a speaker somewhere too close to the water.

You’d brought your little sister along — a toddler with messy hair and a stuffed bunny clutched in her hand. Your parents hadn’t really given you a choice; if you wanted to go, she had to come too. It wasn’t a big deal. She loved the beach, and you figured she’d fall asleep halfway through the movie anyway.

For a while, she did fine. She giggled at the lights, clapped at the sounds coming from the projector, and sat quietly on your lap with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Everything felt easy — almost perfect.

At some point, someone suggested going to grab more drinks and snacks — the stand was just a short walk down the beach, past the line of cars parked in the sand. You figured it would take only a minute. The movie was still rolling, the crowd buzzing loud enough that your sister’s soft voice would be drowned out anyway.

“She’ll be fine,” Sarah had said, glancing back with an easy smile. “We’ll be right back.”

So you left her there — tucked into her seat with her blanket, her bunny in her lap, eyes fixed on the glowing screen. Just for a minute.

But when you came back, the seat was empty. The blanket had slipped to the sand, the stuffed bunny lying beside it.

Your sister was gone.

Your heart dropped. For a second, you thought maybe she’d just wandered off to chase the lights. But as the seconds dragged on, the air around you started to tighten.

“Check by the food stand!” Kiara shouted, already running off toward the line of cars. Sarah was scanning the beach, calling your sister's name over the sound of the waves and laughter. People turned to look, curious but not really helping — too caught up in their own conversations.

Panic started to curl around your chest, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. You ran a few steps forward, eyes darting over every shadow, every flicker of movement, heart hammering like it might burst.

And then you saw him.

Rafe Cameron, not far away, holding something in his arms. Your breath caught. It was her — your sister, safe and small, tucked carefully against him. His head turned slightly, scanning the crowd, until his eyes met yours.

For a moment, everything froze. And then he started walking toward you. Relief surged through you so fast it made your legs move before your brain could catch up.

You ran to him, almost tripping over the sand, your arms reaching out, and he stepped closer, holding her steady, as you gathered her into your embrace.

“Oh thank god…” you whispered, hugging your sister tightly. She seemed completely unaware of the situation, giggling at the lights flickering on the projector.

“Where did you find her?” you asked, looking up, meeting Rafe’s eyes again.

He smirked slightly, shrugging as if it had been no big deal. “She wandered a little too far from the crowd. Couldn’t just leave her there.” he said, his voice low but calm.