Outer Banks Rafe Cameron Novels & Stories

Killian took out his phone from his pocket. "Killian," I murmured his name as a warning not to try to piss Rafe off. "Is there something you want, my love?" Killian shifted his focus to me. "No, not at all, go ahead." "Miserable huh?" Rafe asked with a raising eyebrow. "Anyways, you're right after all. My email is RafeOrton99 at g***l.com. Send it straight to my P****l." Some minutes later with Killian on his phone tapping and clicking, a notification sound was heard from...that should be Rafe's phone.

As the winding road stretched out before them, Rafe’s knuckles whitened against the firm grip of the steering wheel. Each curve, each twist, seemed to mirror the tension coiled within him. Ethan, seated beside him, mirrored his unease, his gaze flitting between the passing scenery and Rafe’s rigid profile. Ping! Rafe’s phone chimed with an incoming message, breaking the heavy silence. “Check that,” Rafe instructed, his voice tight. Ethan glanced at the screen, his eyes scanning the message quickly. “It’s Marcus. He found her. She was at a cafe.”

"Nahh, that didn't last, five years running, we hit a massive loss and we had to shut down the business but I already had something starting up with Diego and Rafe" "Rafe? Who is Rafe?" I asked, my brows deepening. "Rafe is Nathan's uncle, don't ask me to explain but their family is fucked up big time" Damon replied. "But why haven't I met him?" "Why do you want to meet him?" "I think it's only right, I mean Mom and I know Diego and Nathan but this Rafe is also important in your life and we have never met him, plus I must thank him" I explained.

Somewhere in the city, Rafe McCracken walked into Blackridge Gym like he owned the place. His eyes quickly scanned and found Trina Festerfield near the mirrored wall lifting small weight, dressed in a sleek designer workout gear.He had followed her there. Perfect. He walked past her. Then bumped her shoulder. “Oh—sorry,” he said smoothly. Trina turned, irritation flashing in her eyes. Then recognition hit. “Rafe McCracken.” Her tone was cold. “What are you doing here?” “Working out,” he replied easily. Trina scoffed. “You lost your company and your sister to Damien Blackwell. I’d think you’d be hiding somewhere.”

he said, “we keep.” Bootsteps approached, brisk. Rafe skidded around the corner with the grin he wore when chaos obeyed him. “Showtime. The cousin’s parade is already tripping over its shoelaces. Also, the dog is following me and if he becomes my dog I’m naming him Bacon.” “Approved,” the Don said. Rafe’s gaze flitted between them, softened by something like pride. “Look at you two. Terrifying. Beautiful. In focus.” He tapped his earpiece. “All right, saints and sinners. Places. We turn the city.”

His heart pounded with an intensity that had nothing to do with the growls devouring the walls. "Cohen!" Rafe's voice was a knife edge above the din, coarse and jagged. Cohen sprinted forward, sweat and ash staining his face from hauling the water casks along with the others. He lowered his head hastily, sensing the tension behind Rafe's words. "Yes, Alpha?" "Where is Seraya?" Rafe snarled, his voice raw with suppressed rage. His eyes slanted, glinting with a pale sheen under the moonlight as if his wolf pushed insistently close to the surface.

He said, “Whatever it is, you know I’m only loyal to you. I’m your man, Jamie. Ever since that day you rescued me from those bloody rogues.” Jamie knew he could hold Raffa to that. The first time Jamie met Rafa was through an unfortunate event where he had to rescue him from a bunch of rogue wolves that were trying to kill him. He didn’t know who Rafa was by then, but he rescued him anyway, knowing that he was falling prey to the rogue wolves. Ever since then Rafa had been a loyal friend to Jamie. After digging deeper, they realized that Rafa was indeed from their own pack, but due to the death of his parents, he had been on the streets. Rafa was 13 years old then, almost the same age as Jam

I blinked when the soft glow of the crystal lamp hit my eyes, my heart hammering wildly as the man who had taken me stepped into view. Rafe. That was the name his men had whispered with reverence and fear. He is a charismatic criminal leader, they called him the one who ruled the city’s shadows with a velvet smile and an iron fist. He was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered in a tailored black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a glimpse of smooth, tanned skin marked by a single silver scar along his clavicle. His eyes were a piercing hazel that seemed to drink in every detail of my disheveled state.

Malik gave a single, curt nod, his eyes flicking to Lachlan before returning to the blueprints. "The joker is Rafe," Dan continued. "A Nahual from the favelas of Rio. Favored hitman for the Dos Santos shifter cartel, right up until he stole their entire digital ledger and leaked it to the federales just for the chaos of it. He’s been running from a kill order ever since." Rafe offered a two-finger salute, though his eyes were locked on Lachlan’s claws, which were subconsciously extending.