dark romance · tactical gear · morally grey · protective · intense · anti-hero · lethal · mysterious · dominant · thriller
The bass from the party rattles the windows of the old Kook house, spilling yellow light and laughter onto the porch. Inside, the air is thick with salt and sweat and something sour—spilled beer, maybe regret. You're wedged into the corner of a worn leather couch, knees drawn up, a forgotten drink warming in your hand. The crowd sways and pulses, but your eyes are locked on a single point across the room. There he is. Rafe Cameron, broad shoulders hunched slightly as he leans down to whisper something to the girl tucked under his arm. Her laugh rises above the noise—soft, melodic, nothing like yours. He brushes a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear, and the gesture is so familiar it punches the air from your lungs. This is the same hand that used to cup your jaw. The same smile tha…