Rafe Season Two Novels & Stories

“I understand the theory. But he’s not a rational actor. You said it yourself—he’s chaotic.” “All chaos has a source,” Rafe said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “And I am the only force he has ever feared. He will understand the message.” The SUV slowed and turned down an unmarked alley, stopping before a featureless steel door. A single, discreet camera lens watched them from above. The driver got out and opened the door for Rafe, who emerged without a word. Jay followed, the cool night air a shock after the climate-controlled interior.

The rooftop falls quiet again, but now it feels different, calm and intentional. Rafe nudges the case with his boot. “Do you want me to leave the feed open?” “Yes.” “And if he activates the camera again?” My jaw tightens. “Then he’ll see exactly what I allow him to see. I want him to believe he's still tracking her.” A slow grin spreads across Rafe’s face. “Damn, man! You’re insane.” “I know.” He straightens up and picks up the case. "For what it’s worth," he says nonchalantly, "this might just be the most entertaining thing you've dragged me into. I've already booked my ticket. Front row seat to whatever chaos you're about to unleash."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something deeply satisfying about the way he held her, like she belonged nowhere else but by his side. Just then, a familiar voice called out, “Kieran.” They turned to see Rafe approaching from a hallway that branched off toward what looked like offices. He was dressed casually, but there was always a grounded intensity to him that made Aria feel like he was always planning something in the background. “Do you have a minute later?” Rafe asked. “I want to go over the route to the Ashfall territory before we head out.” “Yeah,” Kieran nodded. “Give me twenty minutes, I’m just heading back to shower, and I’ll be right back.”

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.”

Well, she was his mate, and I wouldn't blame him, he was just reacting base on the bond. Rafael finally moves, brushing past me with the kind of arrogance only a man in expensive cologne and unresolved trauma could carry. He doesn't even spare me a friendly glance, his eyes are on the nurse with his usual cold demeanor. "Can we make this quick?" he says, voice flat, bored even. "I've got shit to do." Ava rolls her eyes dramatically. "Yeah, like brood in a corner with a glass of scotch and a superiority complex?"

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.”

I placed a hand on his arm, feeling the hard tension in the muscle. “It’s Rafe,” I said quietly. “He’s real.” Only then did Kael’s posture ease a fraction. He stepped aside just enough for Rafe to slip into the vault, then forced the heavy door shut again and reset the manual lock as best the damaged mechanism allowed. Rafe leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Up close the damage was worse. Deep claw marks crossed his chest and shoulder. One eye was nearly swollen shut. He had fought his way down through levels that had been actively trying to kill him.

“It was a picture of the man she thought I was. His name is… Sebastian” I exhaled hard, staring out the window again. “I want to know who the hell he is. Pull up every information you can on him, the earlier, the better.” Rafe didn’t move for a second. Then he nodded once. “Consider it done.” He turned toward the door, already fading back into the space between light and sound. “Rafe.” He paused. “You don't have so much time,” I said. Rafe inclined his head. “You’ll have them soon.”

He had always been with someone, the position he occupied, between Rose and whatever threat existed, meant he was never unsupervised in the buried room, never alone in the old quarter, never given the specific kind of unwitnessed access the watcher would have required. Rafe was eliminated on the second night, for a different reason. His nineteen days in the Southern Highlands had been documented extensively by his own territorial council, every meeting logged, every movement accounted for by people who had known him since before the Selection and had no reason to falsify a record on his behalf. A person secretly serving as a centuries-patient watcher would not have spent nineteen days establ

"You think this is connected to the Serena situation?" "I think everything is connected until I know otherwise," Raphael said. Caden nodded slowly, the smile still there, still natural. "Fair. What do you need from me?" "Right now? Nothing." Raphael picked the photograph back up. "I'll let you know." Caden stood, rolled his shoulders lightly, said something brief about the morning briefing schedule, and walked out. Raphael looked at the table after he left. Nora came into the room fully. "He seems clean," Raphael said.