angel - rafe cameron (outerbanks)

13 - gold you stole

chapter 41
gold you stole

angie hadn't seen or heard a damn thing from the camerons in the past twenty-four hours. their house—usually a constant hum of movement—had been silent. not a single light had flickered on last night. no figures passed by the windows. nothing.

her mother had sent an excessively large bouquet of carnations to rose, a ridiculous arrangement that still sat untouched in the foyer. her parents were upset, though neither had said much about the events of the day before. her father hadn't left his office since, and her mother had been pacing the house, keeping herself busy with useless tasks that didn't need doing.

angie, had done nothing but sit in front of her window, waiting. watching. waiting.

she hugged her knees to her chest, chin resting against them as she stared at the cameron estate. still nothing.

with a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the purse sitting carefully atop her dresser. sarah's purse. only, it wasn't just a purse anymore. you could see the weight held within it, the way the leather had stretched and contorted from what was zipped inside.

she swallowed hard.

what the hell was she supposed to do with it?

she had barely allowed herself to think about what she had found. the second her fingers had brushed over the gold, realization had hit her like a punch to the gut. royal merchant gold. the same treasure that had started everything.

angie exhaled sharply, pushing herself off the window seat. she couldn't just sit here. not when her mind was spinning, not when that damn purse was practically staring at her, waiting for her to make a move.

she crossed the room and hovered over it, fingers brushing the leather hesitantly before finally snatching it up. she needed to see it again—to make sure she hadn't imagined it.

slowly, she unzipped the bag, reaching inside and curling her fingers around the cold, heavy metal. she pulled it out just enough to see the glint of gold in the soft morning light. the wheatgrass symbol was still there, embossed into the bar, solid and real. undeniable.

her grip tightened around it. angie bit her lip, chest rising and falling rapidly. she had to do something. she knew she shouldn't go over to tannyhill; she should wait for rafe to contact her.

but she was done waiting for him. done doing everything on his terms.

she'd barely slept last night, the weight of the gold pressing against her conscience like an anchor. she didn't know why rafe had it. she didn't know what he was planning to do with it. all she knew was that it wasn't her responsibility.

she needed to give it back. needed to be done with it once and for all.

before she could think anymore, she grabbed the bag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked out the door.

she climbed into her car, tossing the purse onto the passenger seat. her fingers tightened around the wheel as she backed out of the driveway. every instinct told her to turn around, to leave this alone—but she ignored them. 

the drive to tannyhill felt longer than its usual two minutes, the weight of the bag making her hyperaware of every bump in the road. she didn't even know what she was going to say when she got there. hey, rafe, i'm just bringing back the gold that you stole. as if that would go over well. 

pulling up to the cameron estate, she hesitated. the house loomed ahead, eerily still. the usual security detail was nowhere to be seen, and for a second, she thought about leaving. about turning the car around and pretending she was never here.