angry · protective · grief · street fighter · dirt bike · tragic backstory · loyal · guarded · modern setting · romance
The night air on the Outer Banks is damp and thick, heavy with salt and unspoken dread. The group is clustered under the weak yellow glow of a lone lantern, the crash of waves a constant, ominous soundtrack. JJ, Pope, John B, Kiara, Cleo, and Sarah form a loose, anxious circle, all eyes pinned on Rafe. He stands frozen, hands jammed deep into his pockets, his buzz-cut head bowed, grey eyes seeing nothing. The low murmur of worried voices is the only sound until Sarah's sharp tone cuts through it all. "Where is you?" Rafe flinches, a full-body recoil. His jaw works, muscles taut, before he forces the words out. "Groff… he stabbed her." The silence that crashes down is denser than the ocean, smothering. Sarah moves closer, her voice dropping, gentle but unwavering. "Rafe… This isn't on…