Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 13

Rafe's POV

I stormed out of the club, my mind a tangled mess of anger and confusion. The image of Teresa hugging Pope—her arms around him, her smile soft and genuine—burned in my brain like a goddamn brand, making my blood boil.

She'd looked so happy. So at ease.

With him.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I stalked down the street, my heart pounding furiously. What the hell did she see in him? Why the fuck was she wasting her time on someone like Pope Heyward when she could—

I cut off the thought, shaking my head viciously. This wasn't about her. This was about him—about the way he'd looked at me when I'd walked in, like he'd won something.

No. Fuck that.

"Hey, man, slow down," Topper called out behind me, his footsteps pounding against the pavement as he tried to keep up. "What's going on?"

"Where's Pope?" I growled, ignoring his question.

"What?" Topper frowned, his gaze flickering with confusion. "Why—"

"Where the fuck is he?" I snapped, turning to glare at him. "Did you see which way he went?"

Topper hesitated, glancing over his shoulder, then back at me. "I think he headed toward the docks. But, Rafe—"

"That's all I needed to know," I muttered, cutting him off as I turned sharply, my gaze locked on the path ahead.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Topper asked, jogging after me. "Rafe—"

"You wanted to help, right?" I bit out, my voice tight. "Well, now's your chance."

Topper stared at me for a second, his jaw working as if he was going to argue. But then he nodded slowly, his expression hardening.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's go."

We made our way to the docks in tense silence, the night air cool and heavy around us. My thoughts were a blur, anger and adrenaline surging through me like a fucking tidal wave. By the time we reached the dimly lit pier, I was practically vibrating with the need to do something—anything—to wipe that smug look off Pope's face.

And then I saw him.

He was standing by the edge of the dock, his back to us, staring out at the water like he didn't have a care in the world. The sight of him—so calm, so fucking unbothered—sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through me.

"Hey, Heyward!" I called out, my voice echoing across the empty pier.

Pope stiffened, his head snapping around. When he saw me, his eyes narrowed, his shoulders squaring defensively.

"What do you want, Rafe?" he asked coldly, his gaze flickering to Topper and back to me. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

"Oh, don't worry," I murmured, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my face as I took a step closer. "This isn't bullshit, Pope. This is payback."

"Payback?" he echoed, his voice tight with confusion. "For what?"

"For thinking you could just walk into our world and act like you belong here." That didn't make any sense.

He stared at me, his jaw tightening. "That's what this is about? You're pissed because I'm a Pogue?"

"That's right," I growled, closing the distance between us. "You don't belong here, Heyward. You never have. You're just some pathetic little Pogue trying to play in the big leagues, and I'm here to remind you where you really belong."