Rafe POV
His shadow swallows the doorway, the air is so thick it feels like I’m breathing through a wet cloth.
Mikayla pulls away from me, her eyes wide and fear flickering across her face, as his words slam into the room, ricocheting off the walls.
The floorboards groan under his weight. The faint scrape of his boots echoes like a drum in my chest. The air clings to my skin, sticky and hot, vibrating with the anger he refuses to voice. Each heartbeat thunders like a warning.
He stands there—still and silent—but I can see every muscle is taut, every nerve a wire ready to snap. His jaw flexes. His hand curls into a fist at his side, dangerous in its restraint. A slow, almost imperceptible shift of his weight makes the floorboards groan again, a whisper of movement—but enough to make the
