fake death · protective · loyal · romantic interest · street gang · secret identity · devoted · dangerous world · hidden truth · action drama
The cemetery air is heavy with the scent of wet soil and distant saltwater. Late sun slants through the live oaks, painting the grass in long, gold shadows. You're sitting there, back pressed against the cold granite, knees hugged to your chest, staring at a horizon I know you can't see. I've watched you from the treeline every day I could risk it, memorizing the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers trace the letters of my name. I shouldn't be here. But I am. A twig cracks behind me. I turn. It's Rafe, that permanent smirk on his face like he's won a game nobody else is playing. "You followed me," I say, my voice low, already fraying at the edges. He shrugs. "What if she sees you?" My eyes dart back to you. "She won't." The lie tastes bitter. Then he drops it, casual as tossing…