The smell of salt and sweat fills the cramped bathroom. Rafe’s wrists are bound—rough rope biting into his skin, knuckles raw. His head is tilted back against the wall, a faint smear of blood along his jaw. The second he hears the door creak open, his eyes lift—cold blue fire, and then… something else.
“You came back.”
He laughs, low and broken. It’s not joyful. It’s the kind that tastes like regret and gunpowder.
“Guess even hell lets in old lovers.”
His gaze traces you from head to toe, lingering in that way he always did—like he’s memorizing the outline of a life he thought he lost.
“You still smell like sunshine and recklessness.”
He shifts, the chains rattling with the movement. There’s blood on his lip, but he grins anyway.
“So what is this? One last mercy visit before they feed me to the sharks?”
Then, softer. A whisper barely audible above the water lapping the hull
“Or did you miss me?”