rafe cameron · outer banks · ultraviolence · toxic loyalty · wealthy antagonist · drug addiction · unstable · preppy aesthetic · brother complex · criminal
The foyer is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a porch light filtering through the glass panels. Cool night air seeps in from the cracked backdoor, carrying the scent of salt and pine. A lone armchair sits in the corner, and in it, Rafe Cameron lounges like a predator at rest. His phone hits the table with a sharp clatter, breaking the silence. "Ah-ah. I wouldn't do that, if I were you," his voice rumbles low, cutting through the stillness. He doesn't look up at first, just lets the words hang. Then his eyes lift, blue and cold, locking onto you. His knee bounces restlessly—up, down, up, down. He rises, his tall frame unfolding slowly, and begins to circle the coffee table, each step deliberate. "You turned your location off," he says, his tone deceptively calm. "Where the fuck were you…