Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 12

Rafe's POV

The cool night air stung against the open cuts on my face as I stumbled down the darkened street, blood trickling down my temple and onto my shirt. My head was pounding, a dull, relentless throb that pulsed with every step I took.

But I kept walking.

The house—my dad, everything—felt like it was closing in on me, suffocating me. I needed to get out, to breathe, to forget. The pain, the anger, the humiliation... it all churned inside me like a storm I couldn't escape.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, the glass shards from the broken door still clinging to my clothes, and kept moving, the world around me blurring and twisting. I didn't have a destination. I didn't want one. I just needed to get away—away from him, away from everything.

The dim glow of streetlights flickered overhead as I turned the corner, my footsteps heavy and uneven. I was barely aware of where I was going, lost in the haze of pain and rage.

But then a familiar voice cut through the fog, stopping me in my tracks.

"Rafe?"

I stiffened, my heart lurching in my chest as I turned slowly, blinking against the darkness.

Teresa stood a few feet away, her eyes wide with shock and concern as she took in my appearance. Her gaze darted over the blood on my face, the disheveled state of my clothes, the wild look in my eyes.

"Rafe, what—what happened?" she asked softly, taking a tentative step closer.

I swallowed hard, the sight of her—soft and worried, looking at me like I was someone worth caring about—making something twist painfully in my chest.

But then the anger surged back, sharp and blinding, pushing everything else away.

"What happened?" I echoed, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "What happened is none of your fucking business, Teresa."

She flinched at the harshness in my tone, but didn't back down. "You're bleeding," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Rafe, just... let me help, okay?"

"Help?" I spat, taking a step back. "Why the hell would you want to help me?"

"Because—" She broke off, her gaze flickering with something I couldn't name. "Because I care, okay?"

I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, shaking my head. "You care? About what, huh? About the fucked-up mess I am? About the guy everyone's afraid of?"

"That's not what I—"

"Then what is it?" I snapped, cutting her off. "You think you can fix me, is that it? You think you're some kind of savior, come to make everything better?"

"Rafe, stop," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I just—"

"You just what?" I growled, stepping closer until we were almost nose-to-nose. "You don't know me, Teresa. You don't know a damn thing about me. So stop pretending you care, and stay the hell away from me."

She stared up at me, her eyes wide and glassy, her breath hitching slightly. For a second, I thought she might cry, and the sight of it—the thought of it—made something snap inside me.

"Stop looking at me like that," I snarled, my voice rough and edged with desperation. "Stop looking at me like I'm... like I'm something worth saving."

"Rafe..." she whispered, reaching out hesitantly, her fingers trembling.

But I stepped back, shoving her hand away, the force of it sending her stumbling.

"Stay. Away," I ground out, my voice low and dangerous. "You hear me, Teresa? Stay the fuck away from me."