𝗠𝘆 𝗘𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲 ⇉ 𝗝𝗝 𝗠𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗸

𝘵 𝘢 𝘬 𝘦 𝘤 𝘢 𝘳 𝘦

THE SUN, a molten coin in the vast sky, cast a golden glow upon the Pogues, their faces etched with a mixture of apprehension and grim determination.

They stood behind the captain's box of the boat, their eyes trained on Rafe, who was inside, still being the one to drive them, a viper in their midst, steering them towards an uncertain future.

Morocco looms on the horizon, a siren's call promising both treasure and treachery.

They had already left everything behind to go to Morocco with Rafe. A variable none of them had expected or wanted.

Each of them had their own reasons for this journey, their own ghosts they hoped to lay to rest, but Rafe was a shared burden, a constant reminder of the darkness that clung to their heels.

Kiara's voice, sharp and laced with disbelief, broke the uneasy silence. "So, what, we're just on our way to Africa now? Quick little weekend trip?"

"What about Rafe?" Pope asks, glancing around at them, his eyes searching for answers. "We know what he did to the cross. And now we want to go after the crown with him? That makes zero sense."

"Doesn't take Pope to figure that part out." Cleo's sardonic quip did little to ease the tension, only serving to highlight the absurdity of their situation.

Ariella ran a stressed hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the sun-bleached strands. JJ watches her from his spot next to John B against the banister, his gaze filled with a tenderness that belied his rough exterior.

He could practically see the thoughts running around in her head, the calculations and worries that never seemed to cease. He reaches forward, tugging on the back of her waistband, pulling her towards him. "Come here."

Ariella practically melts in his arms as her back hit his chest, the words and action stirring up butterflies in her stomach.

She fell so easy for him, and maybe that's why she was now pregnant with their second child she mused, a secret she held close to her heart, a fragile hope amidst the chaos.

"Sarah, Ari. You two know him better than anyone else." John B glances between the two blondes, though his eyes lingered on his sister, knowing she was the one who knew Rafe better than literally everyone who ever knew him. "How do we deal with Rafe?"

Sarah's response was immediate, a shrug of her shoulders and a helpless. "I don't know. I really don't."

Her words hung in the air, a stark admission of the unpredictable nature of the man they were forced to rely on.

The weight of unspoken history hung heavy in the air as all eyes turn to Ariella. She met their gazes, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. "What? Why are you guys looking at me? She answered the question."

"Because you know him better than you know the back of your hand—."

"I used to." Ariella corrects, the past tense a shield against the present as she cuts Kiara off. "I used to know him better than I knew myself, but not anymore."

She clamps her mouth shut, a silent refusal to delve into the tangled depths of her past with Rafe.

They all knew it.

JJ's lips found her head, placing a soft kiss a silent offering of comfort and understanding.

John B sighs, the sound heavy with resignation. "All right. Well, it seems like we're stuck on this boat with him. So we gotta talk to him."

JJ's scoff was immediate, laced with disbelief. "Talk to Rafe?"

"Well, you're definitely not talking to him." John B's gaze was firm as he points first to Ariella, then to himself. "We are."