「 ✦ I LOVE YOU ✦ 」

────

LATER THAT NIGHT, the house was quiet except for the low murmurs of Kie and Pope talking in the other room. The TV hummed softly in the background, but it did little to quiet the chaos in MJ's mind. She sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers shaking as she stared at her phone. She had been fighting the urge to reach out all night, but the weight of it was too much—she couldn't keep pretending she was okay.

She dialled Rafe's number, her heart pounding as it rang. The line clicked, and his voice came through, calm but still familiar.

"Rosemary," he said softly, his voice instantly pulling her in. "What's going on?"

"I need you to come get me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was no hesitation on the other end. "I'm on my way."

She exhaled sharply, the tension in her body easing just a little, but the hollow ache in her chest didn't fade. She hung up and grabbed her jacket, trying to steady her breathing, but the reality of her relapse weighed heavy on her.

Before long, the rumble of Rafe's truck rolled into the driveway. She stood by the door, waiting, her heart thudding in her chest. When he stepped out of the truck, the familiar swagger was there, but as soon as his eyes found her, his smile faltered. He scanned her—taking in her pale face, the droop of her shoulders, the hollow look in her eyes.

He walked over to her, his usual confident steps slower now, his gaze softening as he reached her.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek before leaning in to kiss her. The moment his lips grazed hers, he pulled back, his gaze searching hers, worry creeping into his voice.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned her face. "You don't look—"

MJ couldn't keep it together anymore. The dam broke, and the tears spilled over, hot and fast. She tried to speak, but her words felt tangled in her throat.

"I—I relapsed, Rafe," she managed to choke out, her voice breaking. "I tried so hard not to, but I couldn't stop."

His expression changed immediately, something softer flickering behind his eyes. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him. His hold was firm, reassuring like he was trying to anchor her in the storm inside her.

"You're okay now," he murmured, his voice rough as he stroked her hair. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here. I'm always here, Rosemary."

MJ clung to him, the weight of everything she had been holding back crashing down. The shame, the guilt, the overwhelming fear—it all poured out in his arms, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel completely lost. She wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to... I just—"

"I know," Rafe said softly, his grip tightening around her. "You don't have to explain. We'll get through this, okay? Together."

────

Rafe's truck rolled down the empty streets, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. MJ sat in the passenger seat, her body still trembling, but her head resting against the cool window. She couldn't stop the swirl of emotions in her chest, a mix of relief and guilt that gnawed at her.

Rafe didn't say much, but his presence was a steadying force beside her. Every time he glanced over, his gaze softened, and each time, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she wasn't completely broken. When they arrived at his place, the night seemed to settle around them—quiet and still, save for the pounding in MJ's ears.

Rafe didn't let her out of the truck immediately. He just sat there, staring ahead for a few moments, like he was thinking. When he finally turned to her, his voice was low and steady.

"You're not going anywhere until you're feeling better, Rosemary," he said, his tone as soft as it was firm. "Come on, let's get you inside."

He helped her out of the truck, his hand warm against hers as they walked toward the house. It wasn't the first time she'd been here, but tonight it felt different. Tonight, she needed something more than just comfort. She needed to feel safe—she needed to be taken care of.

Inside, Rafe didn't waste time. He led her upstairs to his room, his hand never leaving her back as he guided her to the bed. MJ sat on the edge of the mattress, her head spinning, not quite sure where to begin, how to explain everything that had happened to her.

Rafe seemed to sense it all. He turned, heading for the bathroom, and came back with a soft smile.

"Relax, Rosemary," he said, his voice almost teasing, but there was tenderness behind it. "I'm going to draw you a bath. You've been through a lot tonight. You deserve to unwind."

MJ stared at him, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. His words felt like a balm to her raw nerves. She didn't know if she had the strength to do much more than just let him take care of her. She felt utterly worn, as though all the fight had drained out of her.

Rafe disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, the sound of water running filling the silence. When he returned, he reached for her hand, his touch soft but firm as he gently pulled her to her feet.

"Come on," he murmured, leading her to the bath. "I'll be right here. Take your time, okay?"

She nodded, her chest tightening as she let herself be guided. The warmth of the water was a relief as she stepped in, the soft flicker of candlelight from the bathroom adding to the gentle, intimate atmosphere.

"Just relax," he said again from his bedroom, his voice low, soothing. "I've got you. You're safe here."

MJ sunk into the water, the steam wrapping around her like a blanket. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt herself breathe. The heat of the water eased the tightness in her muscles, the tension in her mind slowly unwinding.

When Rafe reappeared, he smiled softly. "When you're ready, we'll watch something stupid. A girly movie or whatever. You can pick," he said, his voice light, playful even. "I'll make popcorn. You don't have to think about anything for a while."

The simple promise of a carefree night, of just being together with no pressure, made her heart flutter. She didn't have to face the world right now. She didn't have to fight.

She took a deep breath, looking up at him, her eyes soft but full of the weight of everything she'd been carrying. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick. "I don't know what I would've done without you tonight."

Rafe's expression softened, and he moved closer, his fingers brushing against her damp hair. "You'll never have to find out," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere, Rosemary. We'll get through this, I promise."

The way he said her name—so tender, so personal—made something stir deep inside her. Maybe she hadn't ruined everything. Maybe, for once, she could let herself trust him completely. She let out a slow breath, feeling a tiny flicker of hope begin to burn in her chest.

When she finally climbed out of the bath, wrapped in a towel, Rafe had a blanket spread on the floor and the TV remote in hand.

"Alright, what's it gonna be?" he asked, his grin crooked but warm. "I've got every rom-com in existence on Netflix. You choose."

She smiled softly, a laugh escaping her lips for the first time in hours. The weight of everything—of all the darkness she'd been carrying—felt a little lighter, just by being here with him.

MJ shifted uncomfortably, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up with her. She let out a slow breath, unsure of how to ask the next question. Rafe, ever perceptive, seemed to sense her unease.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and warm, his eyes flicking to her face with concern. "Do you need anything?"

MJ hesitated for a moment, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink. "Um... yeah. I was just wondering... do you have something I can sleep in?" Her voice was quiet, almost shy. She hadn't planned on staying, but now that she was here, she realized how much she needed to feel comfortable, to feel safe.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Do you have a preference?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

MJ's blush deepened, and she lowered her gaze, feeling the heat rush to her face. She swallowed hard, her heart beating faster in her chest. There was something about Rafe's attention—something about how he always seemed to make her feel so... seen. It made her feel vulnerable, and yet, it was exactly what she needed.

"Something... something that smells like you," she said quietly, almost to herself, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

There was a brief pause, and then Rafe's expression softened. He looked at her, his gaze warm and intense, and a small, knowing smile curved his lips.

"Got it," he said, his voice quieter than before, almost a whisper. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared into his closet, leaving MJ sitting on the floor, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt exposed in a way she hadn't in a long time, but there was something comforting about it too. She wasn't hiding anymore. She didn't have to pretend she was okay.

A few moments later, Rafe returned, holding out a soft, faded T-shirt. It was clearly one of his, the fabric worn in just the right way, the smell of his cologne faint but lingering.

"Here," he said, handing it to her with a gentle smile. "I promise it smells better than my socks."

MJ laughed softly, the sound more relaxed than before. She reached out and took the shirt, feeling the softness of the fabric in her hands. As she pulled it over her head, the familiar scent of Rafe enveloped her, and for the first time that night, she felt a sense of calm settle over her.

"Thanks," she murmured, feeling a little self-conscious, but grateful. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, sinking into the soft floor with a sigh of contentment.

Rafe watched her for a moment, his gaze tender and appreciative before he sat down next to her. The warmth of his body beside hers felt grounding, cand omforting. It was like everything was falling into place, even if only for tonight.

"You look good in that," he said, his voice low, but with a playful edge to it.

MJ shot him a sideways glance, her lips curling into a small smile. "I think you might be biased."

"Maybe," he said, his grin widening. "But you look like you belong here, Rosemary."

For a moment, the world outside felt distant, as if it didn't matter. There was just this room, this moment, the two of them sitting together, the soft flicker of the TV casting gentle light on their faces. MJ leaned back, resting her head on Rafe's shoulder, and for the first time in a long while, she let herself breathe.

As the soft hum of the TV filled the room, MJ couldn't help but smile to herself. She'd been thinking about this all night—getting Rafe to watch something ridiculous with her. She wasn't sure what made her want to do it, but maybe it was because she felt lighter, safer, with him. And honestly, if she was being real, she needed the distraction. She needed to laugh, to feel normal for once. She needed to get her mind off everything else.

She reached for the remote and pressed play on The Vampire Diaries. The opening credits began, and she glanced over at Rafe, his eyes already narrowed in confusion.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, his voice playful but with a touch of disbelief as he leaned back against the cushions.

MJ smirked, settling in beside him, the blanket pooling around their legs. "Oh, you'll love it," she teased, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "Trust me."

Rafe raised an eyebrow. "Vampires? Really?"

"Just wait," she said with a grin. "It gets good."

They settled into silence as the show started, and MJ could tell Rafe wasn't exactly thrilled by the plotlines of supernatural drama. But she didn't care. Her eyes flickered to him, trying not to smile too much as she saw his confused, slightly annoyed face.

When Damon Salvatore appeared on screen, MJ's gaze lingered a moment too long. She bit her lip, glancing over at Rafe.

"You know," she started, her voice light, teasing, "you kind of remind me of Damon."

Rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?" He glanced at her. "Me? Damon?"

MJ laughed, then quickly turned her gaze back to the screen, pretending to be interested in the show, but it was clear she had his attention.

"Yeah," she said, looking him up and down. "I mean, not completely, but definitely in some ways."

Rafe looked at her skeptically. "Okay, now you're messing with me. How do I remind you of a vampire?"

MJ grinned, her fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. "Well, first of all," she started, voice teasing but soft, "Damon's got that charm, that cocky smile. You know the one." She made a face, and Rafe gave a half smirk as if he recognized it.

"I do not have a cocky smile," he said, but there was amusement in his voice.

"Oh, please. You absolutely do. Like right now." MJ leaned in closer and smiled wide at him, mimicking his signature grin.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "So, what else?"

"Besides the smile?" MJ laughed, "It's more about the attitude. You're this mix of being totally unpredictable but somehow always showing up when it matters. Damon's like that. A little dangerous, definitely doesn't play by the rules, but somehow, you can't help but want him around, you know?"

Rafe was silent for a second as if processing what she'd said, his expression softening. He glanced at the screen briefly, then back at MJ, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "So, I'm a vampire now?" He smirked.

"Not quite," MJ teased, but then her tone turned a little more serious. "But yeah, there's something about you. You're always on your terms, but there's a part of you that would do anything for the people you care about. Even if you don't always show it."

Rafe stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, but there was something almost vulnerable in his eyes. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"

MJ smiled softly, her voice quieter now. "Maybe a little bit of both."

Rafe leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face as he glanced at the screen. The night was quiet, except for the distant sound of crickets outside the window. It felt like a private moment, something just between them, no expectations, no pressure.

"Guess I'll take it as a compliment then," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips again. "Though, I still think Damon's way more dramatic."

MJ raised an eyebrow at him. "I could make a ticktock video dedicated to your dramatic moments."

They settled back into silence, the show playing in the background. Rafe's arm brushed against hers, and she felt a quiet warmth in the space between them. She wasn't sure when it happened—when the banter and teasing shifted into something more subtle, more comfortable. But she liked it. There was something about being here with him, in this moment, that felt... real.

She turned her head slightly, catching his eye. "You okay?" she asked softly, her voice sincere, with genuine concern in her gaze.

Rafe looked at her for a moment longer, his expression thoughtful, before he nodded. "Yeah," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm good."

MJ smiled back, feeling the tension she hadn't even realized she was holding in her shoulders start to ease. In this quiet, unspoken understanding between them, she could tell that maybe, just maybe, she had found a place where she didn't have to hide anymore.

As the episode continued to play, the lighthearted atmosphere between Rafe and MJ shifted ever so subtly. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of the TV and the occasional flash of blue light, felt warmer now, and the tension that had started as playful banter was beginning to feel heavier. There was an electricity in the air that neither of them acknowledged directly, but it was undeniable.

MJ caught herself stealing glances at Rafe more often now, her heartbeat picking up slightly with each look. There was something about his presence—the way he held himself, confident and at ease, the way his lips quirked when he smiled—that made her feel more aware of him than she wanted to be.

It wasn't just his smile or his teasing remarks. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, a flicker of something deeper when their eyes met, something that told her there was more than just the playful teasing. Her breath caught when Rafe's fingers brushed against her arm again as he adjusted his position, a seemingly innocent touch, but one that sent a spark through her body.

"MJ," he said, his voice low, as if testing the waters. "You sure this is what you want?"

Her chest tightened, and for a second, she wasn't sure if she even knew what she wanted. All she knew was that the space between them was closing, and it felt as though everything was building up to something inevitable.

She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes, and something in the way he looked at her made her pulse race. There was something in his expression now—softer than usual, but also sharper, like he was seeing straight through her. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.

"You've got that look again," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, not sure if she even wanted to break the silence that hung in the air.

Rafe's lips twitched, a low chuckle escaping him. But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze as he leaned a little closer, his breath brushing against her ear. "What look?"

"The one where you're making me feel like I'm the only person in the room," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

He paused, and for a moment, everything went still. The sound of the TV was muted by the thundering beat of her heart, and she could feel the pull between them growing stronger, undeniable.

Without a word, Rafe reached for her, cupping her face gently in his hand, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as if memorizing every curve. His touch was light but possessive like he wanted her close but needed her to make the next move.

She felt the weight of his hand on her skin, her breath hitching as she leaned into him, drawn in by the magnetism of his presence. The moment hung between them, suspended in time, as if the world outside didn't matter. His lips were just inches from hers, and she could feel the tension building as the space between them became unbearable.

When he finally closed the distance, his kiss was a slow, deliberate, tasting of something both familiar and new. It was tender, but with an edge, as though he was holding back just enough to make her want more.

MJ responded instantly, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric of his shirt. Her fingers grazed the muscles beneath, sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel Rafe's breath against her lips, his hands moving to pull her closer as if the world had narrowed down to this single moment.

He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "Tell me to stop if you want me to," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

But MJ shook her head, her eyes searching his, her hands still gripping him tightly. "Don't stop," she whispered, barely able to form the words. "I need this."

And just like that, the barrier between them completely dissolved, and the quiet tension that had been building into something more raw and real overtook them. She felt a rush of heat spread through her, and as Rafe's lips found hers again, more urgent this time, she let herself fall into it completely, her mind blissfully empty of everything except him.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if they both knew that the boundary they had just crossed was one they couldn't easily return from. Rafe's hands, strong and sure, moved to her back, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against hers. MJ felt like her body was on fire, every inch of her skin hypersensitive, her nerves singing as his touch explored her gently, reverently.

His lips traced the curve of her jaw, down to her neck, each kiss soft but leaving a burning imprint. Her breath hitched, and she involuntarily leaned into him more, needing more of him. She had never felt like this—so completely in the moment, as though nothing existed but them, their bodies entwined in a language older than words.

"Rafe..." she whispered his name, her voice thick with emotion.

He paused, his breath warm against her skin. "You sure about this, Rosemary?" His voice was low, a mix of tenderness and raw desire.

MJ's eyes fluttered open, meeting his, and there was a flicker of hesitation in her chest. But the moment he said her name—the way it sounded as if it was meant only for her—she knew. This was real, this was right. She was tired of running, of hiding from what she wanted. She needed this connection, needed him.

With a shaky breath, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, I'm sure. I want this... with you."

Rafe's eyes darkened with something that bordered on hunger, but it was tempered with something more: care. He leaned in again, his lips brushing against her forehead, then her lips, tender and lingering.

"I'll take care of you, Rosemary," he murmured against her mouth. "I promise."

As he kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberately, his hands travelled down her body, finding the curve of her waist and pulling her even closer. MJ could feel his heart pounding just as fast as hers, the heat between them radiating through the room.

The world outside the walls of Rafe's room ceased to exist. There was no tension, no conflict. There was only the two of them—connected, entwined, in a moment that felt like it was just theirs, something nobody could take away.

His hands continued their gentle exploration, brushing against her skin, and every touch made her pulse race, made her feel like she was part of something much bigger than the chaos of her past. She was here, with him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn't running away from anything.

MJ tilted her head back, giving him more access as she breathed in the scent of him—musky, warm, like the earth itself. She felt safe but also caught in a whirlwind of sensation as their bodies came together again, the kiss deepening with each passing second.

She pulled back just slightly, looking up at him through heavy lids, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Rafe," she whispered again, this time with a little more urgency. "I'm here. With you."

His expression softened, and he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I know, Rosemary. And I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, they just stayed like that, their foreheads resting against each other, breathing each other in. In that space, there was no more fear, no more uncertainty. There was only them, and the promise of something that felt like it could last forever.

And as Rafe kissed her again, this time with a new depth, MJ knew—no matter what had happened before, no matter how hard things had been, this was where she was meant to be. Right here, with him.

────

The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle, silvery hue over the room as Rafe lay beside MJ, his body still humming with the aftermath of their connection. He could feel the warmth of her against him, her breath steady, her heartbeat slowing in the comfort of his arms.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her as he propped himself up on one elbow. Her hair was spread across the pillow, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the air. Her face was peaceful, a soft, serene expression that made something inside of him flutter.

He couldn't help himself. He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead, the softest of kisses, as if to remind himself she was real, that this moment was real. His hand gently cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek, unable to hold back the words that had been swirling in his chest all night.

"I love you, Rosemary," he whispered, the words slipping out without hesitation, a truth he hadn't allowed himself to fully accept until now. "So much."

He stayed there for a moment, just watching her, feeling the weight of the silence and the intimacy of the moment. His heart beat a little faster as he thought about how far they'd come, how broken they had both been in different ways, and yet somehow, they had found their way to each other.

Rafe gently kissed her forehead again, a soft, tender gesture that said everything he didn't know how to express. His lips lingered for a second longer as if trying to hold onto this piece of peace, before he carefully laid back down beside her, his hand still resting on her back.

MJ shifted slightly in her sleep, a faint smile crossing her face, but she didn't wake. Rafe's heart swelled at the sight. It was like she was there with him, safe, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way.

He closed his eyes, the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her breathing, filling him with an overwhelming sense of peace. The kind of peace that made everything feel right in the world, even if just for this one moment.

"I love you," he murmured one more time, just for himself, before finally letting sleep take over, knowing that when they woke up, things between them would be different, better. The promise of something more than just tonight hung in the air. Something lasting.

And in the quiet of the night, MJ smiled softly in her sleep, as if she had heard him all along.

────

The soft rays of the morning sun began to creep through the blinds, gently kissing MJ's skin with a warm, golden glow. She stirred slightly, her body moving in small, slow motions as she began to wake up from the peaceful sleep she hadn't realized she'd needed so badly.

Rafe was already awake, lying on his side, watching her with a soft smile that made his heart swell. He couldn't help it—there was something about the way she looked in the morning, her hair messy and tangled around her face, her lips slightly parted as she took slow, deep breaths. It made him feel like the luckiest person alive.

Carefully, he propped himself up on his elbow, moving a strand of hair away from her face with the gentlest of touches. His fingers lingered on her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin as he leaned in close.

"Rosemary," he whispered, the nickname flowing out of his mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Time to wake up, beautiful."

She let out a soft groan, burying her face deeper into the pillow, clearly not ready to leave the comfort of sleep. He chuckled, finding the moment almost too perfect. Rafe leaned in a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger there for a beat longer than necessary.

"Come on. You promised you'd let me make breakfast," he said, his voice light, teasing just a little. He couldn't help but grin, loving how she made him feel like he could finally be himself, like he didn't have to hide any part of who he was.

MJ groggily opened her eyes, blinking up at him with that adorable half-awake confusion that made him chuckle again. Her eyes were still soft, filled with the remnants of sleep, and it took her a second to fully focus on him.

"Mm... no... I'm good here..." she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, her eyes fluttering shut again as she snuggled into the pillow, clearly intent on going back to sleep.

Rafe laughed softly, shaking his head. "Not a chance, Rosemary," he whispered, his hand slipping under her chin to gently lift her face toward his. He kissed her forehead again, a soft, lingering kiss full of affection. "Come on, I'm making you pancakes. If you don't get up now, you'll miss them."

Her lips curled into a small smile at the mention of food, and she finally opened her eyes, fully this time. "Pancakes?" she muttered, blinking at him with a soft laugh. "Fine... but only because you're making pancakes."

Rafe grinned widely, his heart fluttering as she began to sit up, her hair wild, her eyes still sleepy but soft. He reached out, brushing her hair out of her face once more, his touch tender, almost like he couldn't help but memorize every inch of her.

"Promise me you'll stay in bed a little longer when I get back," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with that sweet vulnerability that only seemed to appear when he was with her. "I'll come back to you, okay?"

She nodded, her smile still sleepy, but genuine. "You're lucky I'm not a morning person, or I'd get up and kick your ass."

Rafe laughed at that, brushing his lips against hers quickly before he climbed out of the bed. "I think I'll take my chances. Rest up, Rosemary. I'll make you the best damn pancakes you've ever had."

The door creaked as it closed behind Rafe, and MJ was left in the quiet, peaceful room. The soft hum of the morning air settled over her, but something felt off. A shiver of unease crawled up her spine, though she couldn't place exactly why.

Her thoughts were still clouded by the warmth of Rafe's affection, the comfort of waking up next to him for the first time in what felt like forever. But then—voices. She frowned, hearing muffled but distinct sounds coming from down the hallway. At first, it was just faint whispers, but then the tone changed. It was Ward's voice, frantic, sharp.

"Rafe!" Ward's voice cut through the stillness like a knife. "What the hell are you doing?! John B knows about everything!"

MJ's breath caught in her throat. Her heart began to race as panic flooded her veins. She pushed herself off the bed, her mind reeling. John B knows? She didn't even think, didn't hesitate—she crept toward the door, her heart pounding loudly in her ears as she pressed her ear to the cool wood.

"John B knows about the money, the deals... He's putting everything together. We have to fix this now!" Ward's voice was filled with panic, his words clipped.

MJ's blood ran cold. She didn't need to hear anything more. The weight of the situation settled on her chest like a stone. The last thing she needed was for John B to know what had been going on, for the truth to be exposed.

Suddenly, the door to the hallway creaked open, and MJ stumbled back from it, her heart hammering. She had to act quickly. No one could know she'd overheard.

Her mind spun as she quickly moved to the dresser, grabbing the first set of clothes she could find. She barely looked at what she was throwing on, her hands trembling as she tried to steady herself.

As she finished dressing, she moved toward the window, her movements quick but quiet. She could hear Ward's angry voice now, getting closer, but she didn't have time. She opened the window, the cool morning air rushing in, and she climbed out onto the ledge, the ground below seeming miles away. She didn't even think—she jumped, landing on the soft grass with a small, stifled gasp.

Without looking back, she took off. She ran, her sneakers pounding the earth as she bolted toward the Cut, the wind in her face as she pushed herself forward, every part of her screaming to get as far away as possible. Away from the chaos, away from the truth that was creeping closer and closer, threatening to shatter everything.

Her thoughts were scattered, and disjointed. What was John B going to do? She didn't know, but she couldn't let it reach Rafe—not yet, not before she could figure out how to protect them both.

She reached the Cut, the familiar winding paths barely registering beneath her feet as she kept running, not stopping, not even slowing. Her breath was ragged, her chest tight, but there was no way she was going back now.

All she could think about was getting as far away as possible—finding a place to think, to breathe, to figure out her next move.

By the time MJ reached John B's house, her phone was blowing up with messages from Rafe. Each one made her heart tighten in her chest, but she ignored them, her fingers moving too fast to read anything. She couldn't deal with him right now, couldn't let his words distract her from what was happening.

As she rounded the corner to the house, she could see the tense figures of JJ, Pope, and Kie standing outside, their faces pale with panic. Their heads snapped toward her as she approached, relief flashing in their eyes, but it quickly turned back to concern.

"MJ—" Kie started, but her voice faltered as she saw the wild look in MJ's eyes, and the breathlessness in her posture. "What the hell's going on? You—"

"I know," MJ interrupted, cutting her off. "I heard Ward. He knows about the gold."

JJ's brows furrowed his usual carefree demeanour nowhere to be found. "John B showed up earlier," he said, his voice rough. "He told us that Ward knows, that he's onto the whole thing. And then..." His voice trailed off, and Pope stepped in.

"Ward killed John B's dad," Pope said, his words sinking into the air with a cold finality. "He said it wasn't an accident. And John B left with a gun. He's gonna try to get answers, to confront him."

MJ's heart pounded as she processed the information. She couldn't let John B go after Ward, not like this. Not when the situation was spiralling out of control. She knew Ward—knew what he was capable of. He wouldn't hesitate to protect his secrets, no matter the cost.

"We need to stop him," MJ said, her voice low but urgent. "Before Ward finds him first."

The urgency of the situation slammed into her with a force she couldn't ignore. She had to find John B before it was too late. The sinking feeling in her gut twisted painfully as she turned to the group.

"I'm going after him," she said, her voice final, though the fear laced in her tone was impossible to ignore.

"MJ, wait—" Kie began, reaching out for her, but MJ was already turning, determined to act before the situation escalated any further.

"I'm going. I'll find him," MJ said over her shoulder, not waiting for anyone to stop her.

As she ran toward the wreck, her mind raced with a thousand different thoughts. Where would Ward be hiding? What would happen when John B confronted him? Would she make it in time?

The world seemed to blur around her as she pushed herself forward, the urgency burning through her veins. Everything was on the line now.

────

It was pitch dark as MJ and the others camped outside the Cameron house, next to the monstrous boat that seemed to mock their anxiety. Sitting on the bow of the HMS Pogue, her head buried in her hands, MJ felt the weight of the situation pressing on her chest. John B had made a rash decision, and she couldn't shake the fear that it might be the biggest mistake of his life.

"What now?" JJ asked, his tone laced with frustration. His usual sarcasm was sharper than usual, a mask for his nerves. "We just go up to the front door and ask, 'Hey, have you seen John B?'"

"Look, he lives at Tannyhill now. It's plausible," Kiara said, her long hair whipping in the chilly summer wind. "We can play dumb?"

MJ shook her head slightly, but the knot in her stomach didn't loosen. As much as she wanted to believe that could work, she knew the stakes were too high.

"It's pretty late," Pope chimed in, his face tight with worry. His scholarship interview was just hours away, and he shouldn't have even been here. He was putting everything on hold to chase after John B.

"I forgot about that," MJ muttered, guilt creeping in. Pope had worked so hard to get to this point, and now he was here, caught in the mess of their lives. It wasn't fair.

"Look, I've never seen John B like that," Kiara's voice trembled with worry, her eyes scanning the dark horizon. "We should honestly be going to the cops."

"The cops? Yeah, and tell them what, Kie?" JJ scoffed, brushing off her suggestion. "We're worried about our friend because he's gone on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John? They're not gonna believe us!"

MJ glanced at her twin, his sarcasm cutting through the tension. She could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that he was just as scared as she was. He hated the unknown, and John B's behaviour was nothing if not unpredictable. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized JJ was right. The cops weren't the answer—not yet.

"I see Ward," Pope said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. His eyes were fixed on the binoculars, and when Kiara grabbed them from his hands, her gaze sharpened as she peered through the lenses.

"Doesn't look dead to me," Kiara muttered, her shoulders dropping as she handed the binoculars back to Pope. "Let's go home."

Pope's frustration was palpable as he shifted his weight, looking at the rest of them. "What's the point? If Ward's fine, and even if John B was here, he's not now," he explained, clearly done with the chase. His voice cracked with the tension that had been building all night. "And I've got a scholarship interview in six hours."

"That's a fair point," MJ said, her voice softer than she intended. Pope wasn't wrong. He had something important ahead of him, and the last thing he needed was to be dragged into a mess that wasn't his.

Pope stood up, shaking his head in frustration. "Look, I have to get some sleep. My whole future is riding on this interview."

Kiara, on the other hand, was still fixated on the bigger picture. "What about John B? What if something happens to him?"

MJ's heart sank. She could hear the raw worry in Kie's voice, but she also understood Pope's point. They couldn't just ignore everything else in their lives because of one night. She exhaled slowly, trying to think through the chaos.

"I'll drop you off," JJ said, standing up as he got the boat ready. He tried to mask his frustration with a lighter tone, but it was clear he was worn out, his usual sense of humour replaced by exhaustion.

MJ sat silently, her eyes flicking between the group. Pope had every right to go home, but Kiara wasn't wrong either. John B was in danger, and she couldn't stand by and do nothing.

As the boat sped off with Pope heading back, MJ couldn't shake the feeling of being caught between two worlds. John B's situation was spiralling out of control, and she wasn't sure whether she should be trying to fix it or standing back and letting him make his own choices. But one thing was certain: they couldn't afford to ignore this.

"MJ," JJ said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "What do we do now?"

"We keep looking," she replied, her tone resolute. "We keep looking, and we make sure John B doesn't do something stupid."

Kiara didn't argue. She knew as well as MJ did that their friend was slipping deeper into a dangerous obsession with revenge. The situation had already gone too far.

"I think you're right," Kiara said, her eyes finally softening as she looked at MJ. "We have to stop him."

They sat together on the boat, staring out at the dim lights of the Cameron house in the distance. No one spoke for a long time. Each of them lost in their thoughts, wondering if they would find John B before it was too late.

But as the night pressed on, one question kept echoing in MJ's mind: What if Rafe had known about this all along? What if he used her to get to John B? She couldn't shake the feeling that everything had been part of some twisted game. Rafe was no hero. He had always played the part of the charming Kook, the one everyone trusted, but now, MJ wasn't so sure he wasn't the one pulling the strings. Had he been using her from the start?

The weight of the thought made her stomach turn as she glanced out over the water, the light from the Cameron mansion flickering in the distance. She didn't know what Rafe had planned, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been a pawn in a game she wasn't prepared to play.