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My heart pounded in my chest, but I forced myself to remain calm, giving him a small nod in return before standing up and weaving through the crowd. As I made my way to the dance floor, I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.
The weight of his gaze made it difficult to breathe, every instinct screaming at me to run, to get as far away from him as possible.
But I couldn't be too obvious-I needed to play this smart, to find a way out without drawing attention. Once I was swallowed by the throng of dancing bodies, I started to inch my way toward the exit, careful to keep my movements casual, blending in with the crowd.
If I could just slip out, I could get to the nearest bus station and drive straight to where the others were.
But just as I reached the edge of the dance floor, I felt a strong hand clamp down on my arm, yanking me back with a force that made me stumble.
I barely had time to react before Rafe pulled me into a nearby alley, the din of the club fading behind us as the door slammed shut.
The sudden shift in atmosphere was suffocating-dark, cold, and far too quiet. The narrow alley was littered with trash, the distant hum of the city being heard.
He shoved me against the rough brick wall, his face inches from mine. His breath was harsh. The intensity of his presence was suffocating, and for a moment, all I could do was stare at his blue eyes, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Rafe," I started, my voice shaky, but he cut me off with a bitter laugh that echoed off the walls.
"Don't even try," he hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. "You really thought you could sneak away from me? After everything you've done?"
His words hit me like a physical blow, and I flinched, but it was the look in his eyes that truly unnerved me. It wasn't just anger or betrayal I saw there—it was something deeper, something more painful. He looked at me like I was a ghost, a haunting reminder of the girl he thought he knew, the girl he thought he loved. And that realization twisted inside him, making him sick.
Rafe tightened his grip on my arm, his expression hardening as he searched my face for something— maybe an answer, maybe an apology-but all he found was the wreckage of what we used to be. His jaw clenched, and he turned away for a moment, his eyes dark with emotion.
When he looked back at me, his voice was low, almost a growl.
"Do you have any idea what you've done to me?" he asked, his tone dangerously calm. "Do you even care?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. My throat felt like it was closing up, the guilt and fear choking me. But I could see it now, the depth of his pain, the way it was tearing him apart from the inside. He still loved me-that much was clear. But that love was poisoned now, twisted into something dark and sickening. His hand dropped from my arm, and he took a step back, staring at me like I was something he couldn't stand to look at, yet couldn't tear his eyes away from.
It was as if the very sight of me made him physically ill.
"Am I making you feel sick?" I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything between us.
Rafe froze, his eyes narrowing as if he couldn't believe what I had just said. For a moment, the tension hung heavy between us, the silence deafening. Then, slowly, he shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips.
"Sick?" he echoed, his voice thick with emotion. "Yeah, you make me feel sick, Anna. But not in the way you think."
He took a step closer, his eyes locking onto mine, and I could see the conflict raging within him. "You make me sick because I trusted you. Because I believed in you, and despite everything, I still... I still feel something for you." His voice cracked, and he looked away, as if admitting that made him hate himself even more.
The weight of his words crushed me, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
"Rafe, I-" I started, but he cut me off again, his voice sharp.
"Don't," he snapped. "Don't try to apologize. Don't try to explain. It's too late for that."
He stepped back "I should hate you," he said, more to himself than to me. "I should want to hurt you, to make you suffer the way l've suffered. But I can't. And that's what makes me sick."
I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of anger rise within me. I wasn't going to let him walk away thinking he was the only one who'd been hurt, the only one suffering. He needed to hear the truth, even if it cut him as deeply as his words had cut me.
"You're sick because you know I'm right, Rafe," I shot back, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "I had every right to do what I did because you started turning into your father-stealing from people, taking things that didn't belong to you, all because of your greed. You became everything you said you'd never be, and it terrified me."
He stared at me, shock and pain flickering across his face, but I didn't stop. "I loved you, Rafe. I still do. But not that side of you. That side of you makes me sick." My voice cracked, but I forced myself to hold his gaze, to let him see just how deeply he had hurt me, too.
For a moment, the tension between us was unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words and raw emotion.
Before I could react, Rafe closed the distance between us in a single, fluid motion. His hands cupped my face with a desperate intensity, and then his lips crashed against mine. The kiss was fierce, filled with all the emotions we had both been holding back. It was as if he was trying to pour everything he felt into that kiss, all the pain, and the love that still lingered between us.
For a second, I froze, stunned by the suddenness of it, but then I found myself kissing his soft lips back.
