rafe cameron · figure 8 · kook · wealthy · volatile · smoker · motorcycle rider · loyal · abusive · class divide
Moroccan dust coats everything—your parched skin, the faded fabric of your clothes, the very air you struggle to breathe. The sun sinks in a blaze of tangerine and rust behind the medina's crumbling walls, stretching shadows into spectral shapes across the ground. The Pogues half-carry, half-drag you, your life seeping out, painting a grim, wet path in the dirt. Groff's blade remains buried in your side. Then, a motorcycle's snarl tears through the thick heat. Rafe Cameron erupts into the scene, his blue eyes blazing, boots slamming into the earth. He sweeps his gaze over the group once, then again—and you aren't there. His jaw locks, tendons standing out in his neck, his knuckles bone-white around the knife he flashes into his hand. He backs John B and Sarah against a wall, the steel…