MAYA’S POV:
The ride back to his house was done in a blur. In a matter of minutes, we were back at Rafe’s place. When we finally pulled into his driveway, he killed the engine, and the sudden quiet was deafening.
He didn’t help me down—just like he didn’t care if I survived being at the back of his bike or not.
He stormed toward the front door. I could tell he was angry, but I had done nothing wrong except tell him to stop hitting the man.
I followed him inside. Then I locked the front door, standing there for a second.
He headed straight for the kitchen, his movements jerky. He was probably looking for something to smoke. My heart was heavy at the moment, so I needed to let that out too.
"Are you really not going to say anything?" I demanded in a trembling voice, but it was loud eno
