Vanessa Bowen and Rafe Cameron.
Something happend 2 years ago that changed everything.
Now, she can't stand the sight of him, but not many people know what the exact reason is for her hate towards him.
In a world filled with secrets, privilege...
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♥︎
It was Saturday, and the weight of dread pressed heavily on Vanessa's chest. Today was the day she had been avoiding in her mind, but no matter how hard she tried, there was no escaping it. She had to meet them. The men who'd sent her cryptic texts, calls, the ones she'd been avoiding for weeks. And now, time was up.
She had no choice but to go to Fourth Street, down by the old abandoned bar. She glanced at the clock — it was already 6:15 pm, and she was supposed to meet them at 7. Anxiety surged through her veins, making her hands tremble as she applied her mascara. She hurriedly finished, not caring too much about her appearance; survival was what mattered right now.
Two hours earlier, she'd received a text from an unknown number that simply read: "𝟕𝐩𝐦. 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞."
She had known this day would come, but that didn't make it any easier. Her mind raced with all the possible outcomes—none of them good. After packing her backpack with the money she had managed to scrape together, she took one last look at herself in the mirror. A small, defiant part of her wanted to look strong, even if she was falling apart on the inside.
Dressed in a plain black t-shirt and jean shorts, she grabbed her leather jacket and headed out the door.
As she slid into the driver's seat of her old truck, her hands were still shaking. She fumbled with her cigarette pack, pulling one out and lighting it with trembling fingers. The first inhale made her head spin, but it helped steady her nerves, at least a little.
"𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞" by Nirvana played softly through the truck's speakers as she drove through the familiar streets of the Cut. She turned the volume up, hoping the music would drown out her fear, but it didn't. The smoke swirled around her as she drove, her fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel.
The song played on repeat, becoming the soundtrack to her growing panic. Her mind was scattered, flipping between regret, fear, and anger. How had it come to this?
By the time she pulled up near Fourth Street, it was exactly 7 pm. The sun was still hanging low in the sky, casting an orange glow across the abandoned street. The summer heat lingered, but a cool breeze swept through, making it feel deceptively peaceful. Vanessa stepped out of the truck, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She glanced around nervously—there was no one in sight yet.
Leaning against the crumbling wall of the abandoned bar, she took another drag of her cigarette, willing the time to pass quickly. The waiting was the worst part. She checked her phone, the screen glowing 7:05 pm. Still no sign of anyone.
And then she saw them.
Two men walked toward her from the end of the street, both tall and muscular, with brown hair and dark, predatory eyes. They looked eerily alike, brothers maybe, and both carried an air of menace that made her skin crawl.
