Rafe From Outer Banks Novels & Stories

Rafe was grilling lunch in the outdoor kitchen and his new girl – Bridgette – was laying in a ludicrously small bikini, working on her tan. Victor shakes his head at her, huffing a laugh. Yes, the weather is nice, but it’s still December. Ridiculous. Rafe rarely brought home girls – he generally prefers to keep his affairs secret – but when he does, they’re always absurd. This one does not disappoint. His mother sits happily perched on the end of a lounge chair, passively petting Archie, who is glued to her side, and chatting with Ian and Alvin, who have come up to greet everyone. Evelyn has not shown her face, Victor considers, frowning.

I whispered. “Nova,” he growled. “Who the fuck is out there?” I wasn’t looking at Cruz anymore. I was staring through a hairline crack in the broken window, and there he was. Rafe. “No,” I breathed. “It’s not possible.” Cruz’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “Rafe who?” I turned to him slowly. “Rafe Moretti.” His face changed instantly, filled with rage, disbelief, and shock. “That son of a bitch is dead,” Cruz said. “He died in the raid two years ago. Blade saw the body.”

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

Then, from deep within the forest, a roar split the world in half — closer this time, so fierce it rattled the ground beneath us. Rafe. He was coming. And this time, I didn’t pray. I just waited.

“But all I can think about is how much of a pounding our people are going to take before King Striker’s forces can even get here. I’m just glad your village is in the northwestern part of the kingdom. Your family should be all right.” I run my fingers through Rafe’s dark hair, trying to soothe his tortured soul. “King Striker will keep his promise. I know he will. If he’s anything like my father was, then I know he’s a man of honor.” Or so I’ve heard…. Not that I remember the man. Rafe looks up at me and captures my hand. He kisses my fingertips. “I’ll let you write to him, then. My apologies in advance for the toll this will take on his own men.”

I sat with it for exactly three seconds because once I said it I could not unsay it and Blake was standing four feet away with his back partly turned and his whole body carrying the tension of someone who was close to understanding something that was going to change the shape of his evening significantly. "Blake." He turned. I looked at him and I kept my voice level because this was not something that needed to be delivered with drama. It was just a fact. A fact that connected to another fact and together they made a picture that explained a great deal about tonight. "Rafe was on the Silver and Blood Moon border alone at that hour," I said. "He would not tell me why. He had no operational re

Rafe's dark eyes locked on, calm but piercing, like he could see right through the casual stance. "Morning," Rafe said, his voice low and even, carrying the weight of someone used to being heard. "Name's Rafe. Moved in next door last night. Your party's carrying a bit." He didn't raise his tone, but the words landed heavy, no room for bullshit.

Rafe stood in front of my desk, silently scrolling through his iPad, updating files and coordinating my other businesses. The silence was comfortable. Until Rafe’s phone rang. He answered immediately. “Yes?” His expression changed in an instant. His body tensed, eyes sharpening with alarm. He listened for a few seconds, then said curtly, “Okay,” and ended the call. He looked up at me. “She left the airport,” Rafe said. “Took a cab into the city, bought a road map, rented a car, and is now on the move. Our men just caught up with her at a gas station. She’s heading out of Asheville.”

She always had. Rafe sat on the edge of the bed, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other, tapping ash into a Styrofoam cup like he was bored of breathing. He hadn’t said much since his last guy checked in. I could tell he was losing patience. Good. Let him squirm. He wasn’t in this for Kat—he was in it for the payout. But me? I was in it for the reckoning. “She’s still holed up in the clubhouse,” Rafe muttered, not looking at me. “Same routine. Kids, women, guards. No movement.”

“BAM! BAM! BAM! Rafe’s eyes snapped open. A sharply dressed man in an elegant suit stood outside, irritation written across his face. “Hey! Move your car from here,” he said the moment their eyes met. Rafe blinked away the fog of sleep. Only then did he notice the building behind the man; a studio with musical instruments decorating the entrance. He nodded apologetically and reached for the ignition… then paused. Money lay scattered on the floor of the car. “Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, quickly gathering it before driving off. Derek stirred awake as Rafe parked at a supermarket. Rafe stepped out and returned minutes later with snacks, drinks, antiseptic spray, and fresh bandages.