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Trigger Warning: Bullying

~Flashback~ // Kiara's Kook Year

"Those clothes must have been found in the dumpster, along with her pogue-friends," Sylvia taunted me as I was cornered in the bathroom by a bunch of Kooks.

"How about looking me in the eyes? You should be thankful just to be in my presence, let alone in a Kooks." Sylvia says this as she mockingly rubs her fingertips across my cheek before snatching my bag off my shoulders.

I hid my face behind my hair as I tried to grab my bag back. I was only a month into school and I had already made enemies.

"I don't know, the boys are too good for her, especially JJ. The boy is hot. I don't know how he can even look at her", Sylvia's friend says while giving me a once over.

"Please leave me alone, I haven't done anything to you guys." I say, trying to get sympathy as the new girl.

"Leave you alone?" Miranda scoffed, touching my hair lightly before slapping me across the face. "How could we leave a beautiful girl like you alone?"

While I lower my head in pain, I do not want to make eye contact with them.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Bitch," Miranda says, forcing my chin up to meet her gaze.

My best efforts failed to prevent me from punching Miranda in the face. I was trying to keep a low profile, and I already failed.

My hopes of a fresh start have been crushed when Sylvia and Miranda expressed their insecurities by bullying me into leaving the Outer Banks.

I wasn't able to say goodbye to my childhood because my parents moved shortly after school ended at my old school.

The summer was spent waiting tables and cleaning up after my dad. I had no idea why we had to move here since he wanted to relocate years ago, but made trips to the outer banks sometimes for business.

Things started to make sense why Mike would drop everything in one place and move to another, which would affect the people he cared about. It didn't take me long to figure out what business he was getting into.

As you realized your father was hiding his instability behind a mask, the phrase "Fresh start, Kiara" hit hardest.

As hard as it was to accept that my mother and I were in danger, I began to reconsider my relationship with my father and what we shared.

The trust issues with the people closest to me spiraled out of control, and I kept blaming myself for not realizing my father's struggles sooner.

As a result of Barry, I was able to channel my frustrations with boxing.

Initially, I didn't like the idea of it since my dad and I had grown up fighting.

However, the most scary things in life can also serve as a catalyst to teach us how to overcome them.

Considering it my responsibility to keep our relationship intact, I worked additional hours to pay off his debts.

They say when you have your own blood in this line of business, you will eventually pick it up and use it to cover up the cracks.

In spite of that, I was able to get away every once in a while, and spend my weekends in Charleston. Forget my life here for a while, and live another.

"I can't look you in the eye, Miranda, if you can't even take yourself serious." I bite back, shifting my gaze onto the role she was trying so hard to take on.

She hits the wall near my head slightly surprising me, making me flinch.

She leans in so that she is eye level to me. "Listen carefully. Stay out of my way or I'll make your life miserable."

"Noted." I say quickly, trying to get out of here as quickly as possible.

In displeasure with my answer, she takes my biology project and throws it in the toilet as Sylvia flushes it down.

Miranda looks at me and pouts, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think it was important."

While watching her leave with her friends, I pushed off the bathroom wall and walked to the sink. Her nails had left a mark, and I quickly covered it up with concealer that I stole from my mom.

Even though I never wore makeup, I was getting pretty good at it. I also needed to conceal the bruises that I had from boxing.

I was sick of the lives I was leading. It felt deceptive. It steered me away from the true picture of who I was. But for some reason, I gripped the railing even tighter. I was curious to see what awaited me at the end of the journey. I was curious to see who I would become as a result of the journey.

The subject of home was an unusual one to discuss. After learning about my father, I didn't feel particularly at ease anywhere. It didn't feel real to be at home with my parents. I'd sit at the dinner table, smiling as if everything was fine, but the man behind the gentle eyes was someone I'd never met.

I'd try to find outlets to run to in order to get away from these problems. But there was no point; I had to do something. I needed to make a change or my entire life would feel like a lie. I had to fix it, I had to figure out why my father felt the need to hide his business, let alone get involved in it. His life was perfect. And that's when I realized why he worked so hard to play that part. He was hiding something, and he would go to any length to conceal his crimes.

From time to time, I would crash at Barry's place when I couldn't go home. We would smoke a joint on the porch, discussing how fucked up our lives were.

"You'll be surprised to hear that there are some like you who drop by. That's why business is booming. You can't break the system here, but we sure let it fuck us up." Barry said to me when we sat outside.

He was referring to the hierarchy set-up here, on Kildare, that I am still trying to make sense of.

I despised the way life was here. I despised how everyone wanted to create division in order to hide the fact that they hated division.

Everyone was so afraid to step out and stand up that it became a feeling they became so accustomed to that they began to take the role seriously.

I, too, have moments when I forget to act normally. I let the environment around me change my mood, which led me back to step one of attempting to make a change.

The ego of oneself, no matter how big or small, can take a toll on you, and the character you want to play will own you, and you will drift further and further away from the truth. You will begin to lose sight of what you are fighting for, allowing it to turn around and fight you.

As a result, I never stood up. I would occasionally make a few remarks to Miranda and Sylvia, but I felt obligated to give them a chance. I couldn't decide whether to confront them or give in. It was difficult to make that decision because I knew deep down that what they showed on the outside wasn't who they were on the inside. They were simply dragged into this game, following the crowd and allowing their egos to get the best of them.

We used to be a close-knit community on the Outer Banks when my father was a kid. But as soon as people began to let their pride dictate their peace, chaos ensued. My father used to tell me stories about when he was a kid and how good life was. How the community here was working together rather than against each other. Everyone worked together to build Kildare, and if things continue in this direction, they might all burn it down together.

Miranda was overjoyed to learn that a new girl was coming to the Outer Banks. When I walked through the school doors, she was the first person I spoke with. She was the president of the Student Council and took her job very seriously. It was then that I realized she was faking it. I was puzzled by the switch up. She was  so good at it that she made me feel like moving here wasn't such a bad idea.

She invited me to join her for lunch, and that's when I realized you couldn't ask about the hierarchy. I expected her to be open to discussing it, but instead I discovered that I was attempting to pry open a locked door. A locked door that should not be opened here. History was behind that door, and I grew increasingly curious to see what was behind it.

I've never seen a community constructed like this before. I was intrigued as to what had gone wrong. Why was there a schism in the community that resulted in the division of the people?

Miranda took it seriously and never spoke to me again after that. She would track me down in the hallways and between classes, dragging me to the bathroom or school alleyways to beat me up.

I couldn't figure out why she abruptly came to a halt. It was like flipping a light switch and not knowing what kind of person it would bring out.

I discovered she had previously been in my situation, but her parents had beaten her and disowned her for not abiding by the laws that surrounded her. I was heartbroken to learn that she had been abused because of what she wanted to fight for.

I let her lash out at me. I could tell she was broken and despondent. She didn't know how to express herself, so she took it out on me. No one, not even Sylvia, was aware of it. Sylvia only saw Miranda slapping me but not going any further.

It wasn't like it hurt when she hit me; in fact, I was numb because I had taken worse shots than the ones she threw at me.

I saw a broken girl hiding behind another girl, believing that the girl she was hiding behind was the one who would make things better. I saw that she needed assistance, that she needed people to listen to her and hear what she had to say.

I wanted to be that for her, but instead I fell at my knees for her, and let her beat me up. I thought taking the hits would make things better, but it actually made things worse. I thought I was solving the problem by showing sympathy discreetly and letting her fight her demons by hitting me. I was mistaken, and I messed up.

There is a lot that goes into wanting to make a change. You'll have to make sacrifices if you want to make a difference.

I could stop it all by standing my ground, telling someone, and fighting back, but I knew she'd have the upper hand on this one. I couldn't decide whether I should just talk to her, fight back, or do nothing at all. Even though I fought for it on the outside, I was terrified to take that step.

I was fighting a demon that was preventing me from doing the right thing. I allowed it to lead me into unhealthy situations, interpreting them incorrectly, and as a result, it affected me mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Miranda had no friends. She didn't have any real friends, and I felt like letting her hurt me would relieve her pain. Going to the ring influenced me to fight for her. As much as it sounds mentally wrong, I did it anyway, hoping that one day she'd look back and see that she wasn't alone in what she tried to stand up for.

I had hope after the first day of school last week, when Miranda decided to stop bullying me. She vanished after John B and Sarah died. She vanished from my life, as if she never existed. When I passed her in the halls, her head was down.

I had faith in her and planned to befriend her later. It was a risk, but I wanted to help her. I planned to get her into the ring. Train her, teach her how to defend herself properly, and help in the development of her character. I wanted to help her in discovering who she truly was. I wanted boxing to be a positive outlet for her that she could use.

She'd figure out I was wearing a mask in the ring, but I wanted her to see that wearing a mask can also be beneficial. Only if you are grounded.

I wanted to help her because she needed stability. People close to her had failed her, just as they had failed me, and this motivated me to want to help her.

Sylvia was the person who hurt me the most. Her words struck me hard, and she knew exactly where to strike, walking away and allowing the words to sink into my open wounds. She was capable of strangling me in ways I had never imagined possible. She was self-assured in her words. She was envious of my friendship with the boys, so she decided to break me from the inside out.

She didn't know anything about Miranda's personal life, which surprised me given that she was her best friend. But she befriended her because they both wanted to hurt me.

She was the one whose voice I dreaded hearing.

But I fought back by listening to the negative voices. I didn't want her insecurities to be the stumbling block in my path.

The negativity fueled my desire to be positive. to keep going and to get up, no matter what

I wanted to beat the shit out of her at times, but I knew that wasn't the solution. When necessary, I continued to express my thoughts to her. When she bit me, I bit back, but I also tried to break the mold she was so desperately trying to fill.

I was attempting to demonstrate to her that what she was trying to be was not worthwhile. My position as an outcast in the hierarchy was something I wanted to make more visible, bigger, so that it would eventually break down the entire food chain because there can never be a perfect society. There will always be that one individual who stands out. That is why we are created to be unique, and to pass on to future generations, the fact that we will never be perfect.

• End of Flashback //

Before leaving the restroom, I put on my lipstick and double-check my appearance one final time.

I was back in Charleston, this time on some strong painkillers to get me through the night.

The purpose of me being here was to check out what kind of business my dad was in, since they usually host these events annually.

I thought it was absurd because I saw no point in these gatherings, but I suppose money can hide anything these days.

While posing as a random rich fuck's daughter, I noticed many college age Kooks wandering around. It was pathetic to observe how they enjoyed being here.

They should be aware of the consequences of the business they wanted to build their reputation on. And yet, here I was in the bathroom of the party.

A cold gust of air blew on my bare back as I wore a backless dress. I shivered, mentally preparing myself for what lay ahead.

~ Kie's dress

I check my bruises on my shoulders to ensure that the concealer has blended in well enough so that I don't stand out from the crowd.

I didn't want to be here, but I needed to look into the business my father is in so that I could possibly make money fast. I only had two days to earn it, and I was worried about how I was going to do it.

There were numerous connections at this party that led to the ins and outs of the business. Hart was not present because he was on another business venture on the west coast, which was working in my favor so that I could attend this party.

I sneaked in by using my charm on the security guard at the door. It was a difficult task because everyone who attended this party, had worked together for years in the industry. So I had to play a part, thankfully blending in with the college-aged kooks here to my advantage.

I overheard that a poker game was going to be played in the next 30 minutes. Playing poker with drug dealers would be a risky bet. But I was experienced enough to have a few tricks up my sleeve.

Inhaling slightly, I push the bathroom door open.

The atmosphere in front of me immediately made me alert, as I take a glass of champagne from the butler who walks by.

After downing the glass of champagne, I look around the room.

It's a good thing my dad didn't attend these, otherwise someone would recognize me.

Rafe's POV:

Leaning against a table, I sip champagne.

I was having a conversation with some old Kildare friends. I put down my glass, readjusting my cuffs, and take in my surroundings.

My father dragged me here, convinced that I mistook this for any other business party that he attends. In reality, half of the kids here were aware of the serious business going on behind closed doors. We all just sort of shut our mouths to put on this mask of pleasing our parents.

Hart organized these events in an attempt to make amends for being a deadbeat. In the midst of broken relationships, he took pride in coming up with the idea of bringing our families together.

And yet, Hart didn't even show up. His daughter was here, running around with the other kids. It reminded me of Wheezie, and how my father would bring Wheezie and me to these events every year to make up for his obvious favoritism of Sarah.

He knew that if he brought Sarah, all the attention would be focused on the favorite child. I saw no logic in bringing Wheezie here; it just goes to show that my father never gave a fuck in the first place.

It's difficult to please my father; I'd go to any length to get his attention. I noticed how he interacted with the other men after spotting him across the room. His mouth was saying one thing, but his eyes were saying another. I wondered how long he'd be able to hide behind it.

I remembered Kiara being at the Chateau this morning, attempting to regain her footing. As I recall her punching the bag, I shake my head slightly.

You can't tame her. I gave up when Isaiah showed up, ruining my chance to tell my side of the story.

I saw no point in interfering with their little world, so I left.

I was going to wait it out, find another time to see her, and make amends for the harm done. Walking away was not an option for me.

Kiara's words always found a way to catch me off guard when I think I've forgotten about them.

No matter how hard I tried to push these thoughts and memories of the past away, they always returned, tying me down until I confronted them. The memories of being labeled as the villain. I'm not the villain. That's probably why I thought I could tell her my side of the story. I expected her to be the one who would listen to me.

But I was wrong.

I was attempting to find a suppressed sense of security that I couldn't place. I tried and failed to figure out what the source was. Perhaps I was looking in the wrong place. I'm trying to find it through my father, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to make it a reality.

My father wants me to follow in his footsteps, but I don't believe I'll be able to. I don't believe I'm qualified to carry the Cameron name with pride.

Every time my father gives me that look that everyone seems to give me, I realize that in their eyes, I am someone else.

But everyone seemed to be tiptoeing around me, as if they didn't want to wake up the beast. All in a game, trying to get to the other side without losing. A character they each played, a trait they kept up with, trying to divert their bodies away from me as if they were hiding something.

They made it appear simple, as if I was the one they were trying to avoid. They would make mistakes here and there, and when I pointed them out, they would turn my cheek away from the problem and try to calm me down.

The same cycle and routine that has trapped my mind in this world and I haven't been able to escape.

Their expression is so clear, and their approach to me is so well practiced, that the words "what happened to you?" are crystal clear to me.

That was the trap I was in. I was almost free of the trap until I gave up and surrendered to the negative voices that swayed me into believing this label about myself.

It's dangerous to believe the lies in your head, and I let them control me. I allowed it to control my life to the point where I lost everything. Everyone, too.

Kiara's POV:

"We've got blue-chips on board." My opponent says as he looks at me.

You had to play people with your amount until you gradually earned more, building up and moving on to the next person.

I give him a nod because he made a wise decision. He only put in tens, giving me the advantage of putting in twentys. I had a lot of blue chips stashed away in my sleeve that I planned to use later.

"Dark bet with red chips, combo draw." I declare as I place a wager without waiting to see which additional cards are dealt on the current street. It was a risky move, but I decided to put it to the test.

My opponent scoffs, thinking I'm putting down the card that requires me to give him all of my chips. I smirk as I look up at him and nod in his direction.

"Wrong move, babe," the man says as he picks up a card that reveals I won the round.

"Thank you," I say as I pick up his chips. As I win the round, the audience applauds.

As I prepare to enter the most grueling round, I take a sip of champagne. If I win this round, I'll have secured the bag-winning $50,000.

I set my champagne glass down, readjusting my dress to make myself more comfortable. When I looked up, I see Quentin take a seat with a guilty expression on his face.

I bite my lower lip in nervousness because I hadn't expected Quentin to be here. I wasn't surprised, his father was a well-known businessman on the east coast.

"Kiara." Quentin nods in my direction as we shake hands to begin the game.

I had to pay close attention now because I thought I was playing against the man in a navy blue suit who was now sitting to my left. I'd played against him before at Dean's place, so I was familiar with his dirty tricks.

"Inside-straight draw, all in," Quentin says, noticing that I don't have a 7. I needed a 7 to reverse the play and win the round.

I give him my 7, making eye contact as our hands make contact.

As I try to read Quentin's bluff, he sits back and analyzes the game. I was impressed with Quentin because I had never seen him in a place like this, let alone playing Poker at such a high level.

His father must have taught him. Quentin was shuffling his cards while conversing with the men around him. Quentin was clearly a regular here, as they all spoke as if they had known each other for years.

I could tell he was nervous because he was playing with a new person. You usually stick with the people you play against because you are on the same level.

I saw an opportunity to put down the 'family pot' play because Quentin did not put down enough cards in time to steal my chips and win it all. He's either bluffing or he completely blew this opportunity.

"Family-pot, full house, all cards in," I say confidently as I set down my yellow chips. I look up to see Quentin surprised.

"Too much Champagne?" I ask Quentin, as I sip my drink.

His friends howl, and one of them shakes his shoulders jokingly.

The host finally declares that I have won the game.

I stand up and smile at Quentin, laughing at his frown.

Quentin catches up to me as I make my way out of the crowd.

As we make our way through the crowd, I sense his presence next to mine.

"I didn't expect to see you here. Who taught you how to play poker?" Quentin asks, and we find a quiet spot in the back to talk.

Looking at him, I fold my arms and laugh softly. "Outta come live on the cut, I'm telling you. When you spend most of your summers there, you learn a few things", I joke, because he was a Kook, who lived on Figure 8.

"Considered it. I don't want to end up working at the country club all summer in a red Polo"Quentin says, shaking his head at the thought.

I scrunch my nose, "I thought you guys were the face of Polo. Donate a few of those, will you?"

As he takes the hit, Quentin tilts his head to the side, his tongue sticking out a little and touching the side of his mouth, laughing lighlty.

He opens his black suit and reveals the inside white collar as polo.

In amusement, I click my tongue and raise my brows. "Yeah, you should burn that," I joke.

Quentin laughs and re-buttoned his suit. We take in our surroundings as we stand here.

"Held annually in the hope of making up for their mistakes," Quentin says, scanning the room.

"It's a shame, they think it makes up for the time lost." I say this while looking at the children who ran past us, laughing and lost in their own worlds. I frowned as I remembered my family. All I wanted was a family. I desired a secure residence to which I could return.

Quentin shifts beside me. As he looks at his parents in the crowd, I could tell that what I said made him uncomfortable.

I look at the couple in front of me as I follow his gaze. His mother, with her gentle eyes and dirty blonde hair. His father was well-built, his arm around his wife's waist. His wife cocked her head back and laughed at something he said.

I felt sorry for Quentin. He was a good guy, but he was raised by his father in a way that made me glad I wasn't raised by my father.

His father pushed him, which was a good thing, but not in the way he pushed his son. He wanted Quentin to carry on the family business, but he didn't want to.

Rafe's POV:

I had just finished a poker game, winning a $20,000 pot. I stretched my shoulders, which were a little sore from the fight the night before.

I snatched a glass of champagne from the butler as he passed by. I finish my drink and go to the bathroom.

I open the bathroom door, and two guys assist in carrying their drunk friend out on both shoulders. I move to make room for them and slip through the doors.

The cold air from the vent brushes against my skin, causing a slight shiver. I pull out a pack of cigarettes and light one between my lips.

I needed to get away for a few minutes because I was starting to get worried when I noticed Hart's men had arrived. I didn't want one of his fucks to report me to Hart.

I was late and had to pay Hart with his money yesterday. As I reached for my wallet, I put the cigarette in my mouth, holding it between my lips. I put in the money I had just won. I organize my wallet after seeing the money I won the night before at the fight.

Quentin entered the bathroom after the door opened. "Rafe," he said, nodding. In response, I nodded.

Quentin was always accompanied by his parents to these functions. We had never really talked before, but we were both living with drug-addicted fathers.

I put my cigarette out and walk out the door, wanting to be alone.

I walk over to my friends and strike up a conversation with them.

Some of them knew why their fathers were here, but the majority of them were completely unaware of what was going on around them.

Even at these parties, a drug deal was always taking place. These men will not be deterred by a room full of families. Even with their families present.

I was zoning out, pretending to be interested in the various topics that the guys were discussing. I never felt connected to any of the guys, and they were never there for me when I was fucked.

I scan the crowd for my father. My gaze is drawn to a girl.

Fuck. Why is she here? Her father was nowhere to be found.

"You can't last a night without healing?" I said pushing my way though the crowd to get to her.

Kiara turns around, but it was not her. In confusion, the girl furrows her brow.

In embarrassment, I bite my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone I knew," I apologize to the Kiara lookalike.

"Rafe, don't get in my way. I'm free to do whatever the fuck I want."

When I turn around, I see Kiara dressed in a golden orangey silk dress.

The dress hugged her in all the right places.

I noticed how she was wearing makeup to cover up the bruises on her body, and how her dress exposed a lot of skin.

I shift under her gaze as the people around us went about their business, and it felt like we were the only ones in the room.

I sigh and clench my fist slightly as I look at her, here at the party rather than at the Chateau healing.

The light illuminates her skin, making the bruises visible. You could see it better if you got closer. My breath caught in my throat as I realized I was the one who had brought this on her.

"No shit, you are right here. Isaiah scare you away?" I ask her, as I approach her.

"No, you already played that part," Kiara says, glowering at me with an annoyed expression.

"You never let me finish. I was going to enlighten you, but that didn't work out." I'm referring to Isaiah interrupting me.

Kiara sighs, folding her arms guardedly and moving away from my presence. It hurt me to see her so afraid of me. That is not how I would ever touch a girl.

As she walks away, her straightened hair falls to her shoulders and back, concealing her bruises. I swallow as I look at the bruises on her back. Her tanned skin blended in with the bruising.

I grind my teeth together and watch her walk away as if nothing had happened.

My heart clenched at the vulnerability she was willing to expose in that fucking dress, despite her small stature and well-toned body from working out.

A wave of guilt washed over me, along with a desire to shield her from everyone around her.

Kiara's POV:

I walk away from Rafe, my retreating figure signaling to him that I didn't need him.

The pain relievers were gradually wearing off, reminding me that I needed to take a few more in the next few minutes.

I decided that I was going to have a good time at this party. I made 100,000 without losing and wanted to celebrate.

The pain intensified, prompting me to rush over to a butler who was serving champagne to the partygoers.

A gunshot was heard just as I was about to grab a glass, and everyone started freaking out.

I couldn't process anything because it happened so quickly, causing me to drop the glass in shock.

As I looked around in fear for my life, trying to find a way out, the atmosphere around me seemed to have blocked out my hearing.

Children were screaming and running around, trying to find their parents, and colliding with me, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the floor.

I started hyperventilating when I saw men in black ski masks come into view and start shooting at the ceiling.

I was still on the floor, trying to process everything. My body's pain began to worsen, causing me to bite my lips in pain. The sensation of my teeth sinking through my lips was the only thing that got me to my feet as I savored the few seconds of painlessness.

The men in ski masks were getting closer to where I was, so I got up, got on my heels, and tried to find a hiding place.

My heart was pounding against my chest, and my breathing was becoming increasingly loud.

I frantically looked around for a place to hide or anything to protect myself from the men.

I decided to follow a group of girls who were running towards a room full of furniture.

The girls were already in their hiding places when I entered the room. I notice a cabinet that is large enough to accommodate me and proceed to open it.

In an instant, I was swept off my feet. As a hand rests on my mouth, preventing me from screaming, I begin to panic.

Rafe made a quiet motion with his finger to his mouth and mouthed 'not here,' indicating that this was not a good hiding place.

I looked at him, my eyes wide, relieved that I wasn't going to be kidnapped by one of the men in skii masks.

Rafe leads us to a secret room in the back hallway of the hall's main entrance.

He carefully grabs my hand, and we climb into a closet that appeared to be a cabinet disguised as a closet.

My vision is obscured by darkness, and an amber spice cologne enters my nostrils, drawing my attention to it and calming my breathing.

Rafe shifts in front of me as my face brushes up against his broad chest. Apart from our breathing, the only sound I hear is my heart pounding in my chest.

We remain silent and listen for any sounds. We hear gunshots echoing through the large house from the men shooting the gun in the distance.

I start shifting nervously as I hear heavy footsteps and men yelling at each other. I accidentally step on Rafe's toe, causing him to wince.

"Fuck," Rafe says as his minty breath hits my hair.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

As I shivered earlier from the cold, the heat between us kept me warm.

"I know you're in there. Do you think you'll be able to hide from me? ", a man abruptly says, causing me to shift.

My heart began to beat so quickly that I could hardly breathe. Rafe's hand gently caresses my back in an attempt to calm me down.

As my chest heaved up and down, he began rubbing circles around my back to distract me from the man.

I was trying to hold my breath when Rafe whispered, "He won't find us. I've got you."

Rafe's soothing touch began to calm me down, and my breathing began to return to normal. I was imagining the shapes he was drawing on my back to distract me from the man in the room.

"I know you're close. It's best to give up now ", the man says as he gets closer to the cabinet.

I close my eyes and lean into Rafe's chest as his arms wrap around my body, drawing me closer to him.

Even with the man on the other side, his grip felt secure. In this moment, I felt safe. Rafe places his hand on my head and gently presses it against his chest.

His thumb gently strokes my hair while his other hand strokes my back.

I feel myself slightly relaxing into him, our breathing in sync. Rafe continues to rub my back gently, causing my head to sink deeper into his chest.

"On a count of three, you will come out of there, or I will shoot you before you make a decision," the man says after a brief silence.

My breathing becomes choppy, and I come to a halt. Rafe's grip on me loosens and he begins to move.

I pat his back, indicating that he should not move. Rafe gently holds my head while looking down at me. His blue eyes sparkle through the creaks of the light coming in.

"Kie, trust me," he says, his gaze fixed on me.

I trusted Rafe in that moment. I didn't want to waste time, so I nodded.

Rafe produces a creaking sound. "I'll be there in two," Rafe says as he swiftly moves me to the back of the closet.

Rafe's gaze never left mine as he took his hand away from me, lightly brushing my back because the tight space made movement impossible.

The warmth has now vanished, forcing me to hug myself in order to stay warm. Rafe exits the closet, leaving me behind.

Rafe's POV:

I exit the closet, leaving the comfort of standing next to Kiara behind.

I raised my hands as a sign of surrender.

The man in the black skii mask points his gun at me and motions me to the door. I walk to the door as instructed. "Back against the wall, kid," the man says to me, and I do as he says.

I make every effort not to look at the closet, because I know Kiara is in there. Every part of me wanted to check to make sure she was safe.

"Where is Mike Carrera?" questioned the man. I bit my lower lip because I knew Kiara had heard the man. My breathing became more rapid as I hoped Kiara wouldn't burst out of the closet.

"He's not here," honestly, I say to the man. I was trying to keep it together and appear sincere.

Fuck. Why didn't I just say, I didn't know him.

"Nice one, Cameron," the man says as he points the gun at my throat. "But I'm not here to play games, son," the man says as he leans in closer, his sharp eyes making me squirm.

"You're going to tell me or I'm going to blow your brains out," the man says again, this time in a serious tone that makes my heart race.

Kiara slammed her heel into the man, causing him to collide with me. Because of the sudden action, I had to think quickly and grab the man by the neck. Kiara looks at me with wide eyes as I use my eyes to look at the closet and her questioning why she left.

"Bitch!" the man yells at Kiara as he tries to lunge at her. I grab him before he can touch her and put him in a chokehold.

The man squirms free of my grip and starts punching me in the gut. I wrestle the man and ram him into the wall, causing us both to groan in pain.

He pulls out a knife and tries to stab me. I try to avoid the knife as best I can, but he still manages to cut me.

I hiss in agony as the cuts sting. Kiara appears in the corner of my eye near the closet. The man tries to stab me again, but I grab his wrist and steer the knife away from my heart.

As one of my hands begins to slip, I grab his wrist with both of mine. When my hand slips and I lose control, the knife slashes into my side, causing me to fall to my knees.

As he towers over me, the man laughs evilly. "Good luck escaping now," the man says as he prepares to stab me.

I move to the side just in time for the man to fall, snatching the knife and clutching my side in pain. I restrain him by his neck as the man stares at me with wide eyes. "Get the fuck out of here or I'll give you 3 seconds." I tell the man. The man gets to his feet and dashes for the door. I recognize his dark blue eyes when he looks back.

I collapse to the floor because I'm out of breath. Kiara rushes over to me and kneels down, holding my side as it bleeds more.

Kiara's POV:

I was by Rafe's side as he began to bleed profusely. My breath is hampered by the blood on my hands. "Take off your shirt." I say.

I assist Rafe in removing his shirt and wrap the white collar around his wound. I made it extra tight so that it would immediately stop the bleeding.

Thank goodness the cut wasn't too severe; otherwise, I would have had to rush him to the hospital right away. I look around for anything useful to put to use. I see bottles of champagne and grab one, popping the cork.

As I was about to pour the alcohol on his wound, I handed him his blazer to bite on. "On three," I say.

"Just fucking do it, kie," Rafe says, his voice muffled by biting down hard on his blazer.

I don't waste any time and pour the alcohol on his wound while he groans into his blazer.

~~

Rafe's POV:

Rain drops splattered on the windowsill and echoed through the large house.

While Kirara treated my wounds, I was laid out on a couch, my back supported by a pillow. She focused on cleaning each wound carefully.

Watching her move slowly to avoid hurting me, her silk dress brushed against my skin a few times, causing me to hold back a moan of how soft it was against my skin in this wounded state.

In response to our silence, I felt all sorts of emotions as if I was in a deja vu as the last time one of us had been hurt, the silence between us felt almost natural.

"I would never hurt you, Kie." I say suddenly, surprising myself.

Kiara looks up at me as she cleans my wound. She avoids eye contact and goes back to cleaning my wound.

"I know." I hear her say in a whisper.

Her whisper was so quiet, I questioned whether I heard her at all.

A/N: Hey loves I hope you are having a wonderful day or night 💕