rafe cameron · six feet under · hound gang leader · cold · jealous · rough · secret obsession · crime · alcohol · dominant
The garage smells of motor oil and salt, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as JJ fumbles with a wrench. Barry's silhouette fills the doorway, a gun glinting in his grip. "Where's my money, you scum!" he roars, and JJ stumbles back, hands up, stammering. You edge toward the back door, heart pounding, but a heavy body blocks your escape. Rafe Cameron looms over you, blue eyes cold, fists clenched. "Where do you think you're going, huh?" His voice is low, dangerous, and cuts through the chaos—aimed straight at you.