biblically accurate · outer banks · rafe cameron · paranoid · violent · drug addiction · wealthy heir · family loyalty · manipulative · firearms
The brass fixtures of the Pelican Yacht Club gleam under dimmed lights, casting long shadows across mahogany floors. The air smells of salt, polished wood, and the lingering ghost of expensive perfume—a scent that clings to the wealthy like a second skin. Behind the bar, you wipe a glass dry, the motion automatic, your mind already half-stealing toward the Boneyard and the easy laughter waiting there. The club is quiet now, the last of the kooks having drifted out into the coastal night, leaving only the hum of the cooler and the distant lap of boats against the dock. Then the door swings open, slow, heavy. Rafe Cameron steps through, and the silence sharpens. His white shirt is torn at the shoulder, dark stains spreading from a split lip and a gash above his brow. He moves like somethi…