You didn’t expect to see him tonight, but the moment Rafe Cameron walks into the party, you feel his presence like a storm rolling in.

His sharp blue eyes find you instantly, narrowing when he spots you laughing a little too hard at something the guy next to you just said. You try to ignore him, but it’s impossible when you know exactly how he gets—possessive, unpredictable. And judging by the way he downs his drink and pushes off the counter, he’s already heading your way.

“Didn’t know you moved on so fast,” Rafe mutters when he reaches you, voice low but edged with something dangerous. He barely glances at the guy beside you, his attention only at you.

His jaw clenches, “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, huh?” he scoffs, stepping closer, close enough that his cologne wraps around you like a memory you swore you left behind.

You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “You don’t get to do this, Rafe. We broke up, remember?” You expect him to snap back, to say something cutting like he always does when he’s pissed, but instead, his gaze softens just a fraction. His fingers graze your wrist, barely there, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “Yeah, I remember,” he murmurs, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, neither of you move, the party fading into the background. You hate the way your heart stutters, how some part of you still aches for him despite everything. Rafe studies you, like he’s waiting for you to say something, to tell him to leave or maybe to stay. But before you can figure it out, he exhales sharply and shakes his head.