Outer Banks Rafe Cameron Novels & Stories

Coffee went cold. I returned to our house despite the restrictions. The place still carried the scent of lemon and spice. I moved quickly. Clothes. Documents. Essentials. I didn’t look at anything long enough to feel it. Cole drove us to Rafe’s apartment after that. It hadn’t been lived in for three months. Not since Rafe was admitted to the hospital. He’s twenty-two. Still hasn’t found his mate. He used to joke about being unlucky. Now he’s bedridden. Two days before the trial, I go to see him.

Rafe stood at the edge of the palm line like a god carved from bronze and shadow — white linen shirt open, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the dark tattoos that disappeared beneath his waistband. His gray eyes burned with a mixture of fury and raw hunger as they raked over her barely-covered body. “I was just sunbathing,” she said, quickly pulling her hand away, but the bratty tone remained. “Is that against your precious rules too?” Rafe stalked toward her across the sand, each step deliberate. The bulge in his shorts was already obvious. “You’re out here alone. Touching what belongs to me. And from the way you were moaning, I’d say you were hoping that supply boat might see exac

His head of security, his closest confidant, and the only man who knew exactly how deep Damien had fallen into the quicksand of his forbidden affair with Elias. Rafe looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes matching the grim set of his jaw. He didn't ask permission. He walked straight over to the mahogany desk, tossed a heavily encrypted tactical tablet onto the blotter, and leaned down, his eyes scanning the ancient photograph Damien was trying to hide beneath his palm. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Rafe said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that cut through the sterile hum of the server stack.

Orlando twists around. Just outside his window stands a big, muscled guy with a closely shaved head and a dark line of stubble along his jaw. At first glance, he's terrifying - but then I get a better look at his face. It's the only one of Orlando's brothers I haven't met yet - Raphael, or Rafe, as he's more commonly known. "Everything okay in there?" Rafe says through the window. His voice is so deep it's almost startling.

Men who smiled publicly while stuffing their own pockets behind closed doors. Rafe suddenly looked at me. “You know what pisses me off?” I raised an eyebrow. He gestured toward me. “You.” I frowned. The room chuckled lightly. Rafe shook his head. “I mean the way they treat you.” He said, “The way they treat us.” Knox immediately nodded. “Facts.” I stayed quiet. Rafe continued. “Mayor acts like you’re some damn criminal ruining Greystone…” He pointed upstairs. “But this town would’ve burned to the fucking ground years ago without you.”

“You don’t get to beg, not after what you did. Every brother who looked at me sideways because of your lies, every shipment we lost, every night Corleone had to sleep alone wondering if I was coming back in a body bag—that’s on you.” I pressed the flat of the blade against his cheek. “How long, you coward?” “Eight months,” he whispered, finally breaking. “Eight months… Rafe brought me in after that bad deal in Carson City. They paid good. They said the Reapers were finished anyway.” I smiled without warmth. Rafe has been alive for more than eight months and I had no fucking idea. He had a rat in my own gang and I didnt know about it. God, wasn’t I stupud?

Rafe came to me three months after the choice, in the late afternoon on a day when Dominic was at a council meeting and the house was quiet. He knocked on the door of the room I now used as an office—my maps spread across the walls, the pack territory coming into clearer relief with every week of work—and he looked like himself, which was to say he looked like someone who had done the internal work and was on the other side of it, not unchanged but real. "I want to talk to you," he said. "About Cael. About some things I should have told you earlier."

“I don't want to jump to conclusions, boss, but the payment came from a Calabrian shell company. Whoever ordered the ambush knew how to butt their trail deep.” Rafa’s tone went flat. “How deep?” “Deep enough that it would take weeks to untangle.” Rafa pushed away from the desk and stood. “You have four days.” Kane frowned but nodded and left the room. After Kane left, Rafa poured himself a drink and leaned against the edge of the desk. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. I just leaned back in my chair, watching him. “Rafa,” I said softly. “Do you think your uncle was the one who ordered the hit?”

Jacob nodded slowly and quickly left through the open French door. Meanwhile Rafe moved to the right wing. He knew exactly where Cooper's office was. He'd been here before, with Brittany. That painful image had haunted his mind as he just got out of the car. He almost gave up on seeing Cooper because he remembered his promise to Brittany. But then he remembered Lexie cowering in the car with the sound of gunshots raining down on them. Rafe then threw away all his images of Brittany. Fuck that promise. Since Brittany died, there were no more promises he had to keep. The promise is completely dead with the owner of the promise.

“How long have you known Kieran?” “All my life,” Rafe said without hesitation. “We were raised together. My father was Beta before me, his father was Alpha before him. We were practically joined at the hip as kids.” She leaned forward a little. “What was he like growing up?” Rafe chuckled, resting his ankle over his knee. “Carefree. Wild. He laughed all the time, fooled around way more than he should’ve. You wouldn’t believe it now, but he could be downright reckless.”