Drew Starkey Imagines

Dead Calm Pt 4

The air was thick with the weight of what you'd just learned.

Ward Cameron.

Derrick Wyatt had been working against him—digging into something dark, something powerful. And now, Derrick was dead.

And someone had made sure of it.

You, Rafe, and the Pogues walked in silence as you left Boone's dock, the moonlight casting long shadows across the weathered planks. Rafe's jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. You could feel the storm building inside him, the tension radiating off of him in waves.

It was too much.

Too close.

Too real.

When you reached the Château, the air was thick with unspoken words. No one knew what to say.

So Rafe spoke first.

"I need to talk to my dad."

You stiffened. "Rafe—"

His eyes were unreadable, his expression carefully blank. "I have to."

JJ scoffed. "Yeah, great idea. Walk right into the lion's den. What could possibly go wrong?"

Rafe shot him a glare. "I don't expect you to get it, Maybank. But this is my family. My home. If my dad's involved in this, I need to hear it from him."

Kiara shook her head. "And what if he lies to you?"

Rafe let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, he will lie to me. But I'll know."

You swallowed hard. "You're not going alone."

Rafe looked at you, something softening in his expression. "I have to."

But you weren't having it. "No. If you're walking into that house, I'm walking in with you."

For a moment, it was just silence between you. Then, finally, he exhaled. "Fine."

JJ shook his head. "You're both insane."

Pope crossed his arms. "Just... be careful."

Rafe gave a single nod. Then, without another word, he took your hand, leading you away from the Château, toward the storm waiting at Tannyhill.

⸻

Tannyhill – 3:00 AM

The estate was eerily quiet when you stepped inside, the grand hall bathed in silver moonlight. Everything was as it always was—immaculate, expensive, a world built on old money and well-kept secrets.

But now?

Now, it felt wrong.

Rafe moved with purpose, leading you toward his father's office. His grip on your hand was firm, grounding, but you could feel the tension thrumming beneath his skin.

The door was slightly ajar.

Rafe hesitated for only a second before pushing it open.

And there, sitting behind the massive oak desk, was Ward Cameron.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Rafe."

Rafe didn't sit. He stood in front of the desk, shoulders squared, his whole body coiled tight. "Tell me the truth."

Ward sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Son—"

"Don't." Rafe's voice was sharp, raw. "Don't lie to me."

Ward was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached for the crystal glass beside him, taking a sip of bourbon.

When he spoke, his voice was calm. Controlled.

"Derrick Wyatt was a problem."

Your blood ran cold.

Rafe didn't move. "So you had him killed."

Ward sighed. "I handled it."

Rafe inhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists. "You killed him."

Ward's gaze darkened. "I did what had to be done."

The words rang in your ears, an unspoken confession that left the room feeling suffocatingly small.

Rafe let out a low, bitter laugh. "Jesus Christ."

You swallowed hard. "You don't even care, do you?"

Ward's eyes flickered to you. "I care about my family."

Rafe scoffed. "That's bullshit."

Ward's expression remained impassive. "This is how the world works, Rafe. People who get in the way... they get removed."

Your stomach twisted.

Rafe took a step closer, his voice deadly quiet. "And what if I'm in the way?"

Ward's jaw tightened.

And in that moment, you saw it.

The hesitation. The calculation.

Because Ward Cameron?

He wouldn't hesitate to remove anyone.

Even his own son.

Your pulse skyrocketed. "Rafe, we need to go."

Rafe didn't move. He just stared at his father, something breaking behind his eyes.

Ward exhaled. "You don't have to fight me on this."

Rafe let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah. I do."

Then he turned, grabbed your hand, and pulled you out of the office before Ward could say another word.

⸻

The Château – 4:00 AM

The others were waiting when you got back, their faces tense with worry.

John B stood first. "Well?"

Rafe exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "It was him."

Silence.

Then Kiara muttered, "Jesus."

JJ let out a low whistle. "So what now? We go to the cops?"

Pope frowned. "With what? We don't have proof."

Rafe's jaw tightened. "We do."

Everyone turned to him.

Rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sleek recorder.

Your heart nearly stopped. "Rafe—"

He gave you a small smirk. "What? You think I'd walk in there without a backup plan?"

JJ grinned. "You sneaky bastard."

Rafe played the recording.

Ward's voice filled the room.

"Derrick Wyatt was a problem."

"I did what had to be done."

Silence fell over the group.

Then Pope exhaled. "We have him."

John B nodded. "We take this to the cops."

But you knew what was coming.

Ward Cameron wouldn't go down without a fight.

And as you looked at Rafe, you saw it—the realization settling into his bones.

This wasn't over.

It was just beginning.

And you?

You were right in the middle of it.