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 ''I just— When I'm around you, I feel... different. Like I want to be better. But I don't know how.''

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THE ROOM WAS dim, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the slats of the wooden blinds, painting streaks of silver across the walls. I stirred, the soft creak of floorboards pulling me from sleep. Blinking, I sat up slowly, my heart racing. My eyes adjusted, landing on Rafe as he emerged from the bathroom, his face shadowed but his posture relaxed.

''What are you doing?'' I whispered, my voice hoarse with sleep.

He stopped in his tracks, hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace. ''Nothing, go back to sleep.'' he murmured, his tone low, almost defensive. ''I just had to pee, that's all.''

I studied him for a moment, watching the tension in his shoulders ease as he stepped closer to his side of the bed. He sank down onto the edge, running a hand through his hair.

''You awake?'' he asked softly, his voice carrying a strange weight, like he wasn't sure if he wanted an answer.

I hesitated before humming in response, shifting slightly to face him. ''What is it?''

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor. ''I didn't mean for it to happen,'' he began, his voice tight, almost breaking. ''With Peterkin. I didn't want to kill her.''

I sat up straighter, my pulse quickening.

''Then why did you do it?'' I asked.

Rafe flinched, glancing at me before looking away again. ''I had to,'' he admitted, his jaw clenching. ''It was... it was about protecting everyone. The treasure, my family. I didn't have a choice.''

I frowned, my mind racing. ''Do you regret it?''

His head snapped up, his blue eyes locking with mine. ''No,'' he replied firmly, but there was no pride in his voice. ''I don't regret it. I couldn't afford to regret it.''

The silence hung heavy between us, broken only by the faint rustle of the wind outside. I thought about his words, the certainty in his tone.

''Do you feel bad?'' I asked after a moment, my voice quieter this time.

Rafe exhaled sharply, as if the question had caught him off guard. ''Yeah,'' he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. ''I feel bad every damn day. But I know I had to do it. There wasn't another way.''

I nodded slowly, my thoughts spiraling. The truth was, I understood more than I wanted to admit. Maybe killing Peterkin wasn't necessary for him, but for me...

I closed my eyes briefly, the memory flooding back. The man's sneer, the cold blade of his machete pointed at JJ, the desperation I'd felt as I stuck it in his neck. It wasn't the same situation, but it wasn't so different either.

''Sometimes,'' I murmured, my gaze fixed on the ceiling, ''we do things we have to. Even if it feels wrong, you see no other option.''

Rafe glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

''Goodnight, Rafe,'' I added, lying back down and pulling the blanket over my shoulders.

He shifted slightly, settling onto his side of the bed. ''Goodnight, Mavis,'' he replied, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.

As sleep began to pull me under again, I found a strange sense of calm. Maybe it was ironic that a conversation with a killer was what I needed to reassure myself. What I did was right.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE MORNING LIGHT filtered through the blinds, casting pale streaks across the room. I stirred, my eyes cracking open to the sight of Rafe still asleep. He lay on his side, his face surprisingly peaceful. It hit me in that moment—how similar we were, in ways I didn't want to admit, and yet how fundamentally different. Both of us had done things we weren't proud of, but only because we'd been forced to. At least, that's what we told ourselves. 

Sliding out of bed quietly, I wrapped my arms around myself and approached the window near the door. The guard outside was stationed stiffly, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his face expressionless.

''I need to talk to Mr. Singh,'' I called out firmly, my voice cutting through the morning quiet.

The guard didn't even flinch. He remained motionless, like I hadn't spoken at all.

''Hey!'' I banged on the door with my fist, the sound reverberating through the room.

Behind me, I heard a groggy voice. ''What are you doing?''

I glanced back to see Rafe sitting up, his hair disheveled, confusion etched across his face.

Ignoring him, I pounded on the door again. ''I need to talk to Mr. Singh!''

Rafe stumbled out of bed, crossing the room quickly. ''Stop. Stop. Stop. Mavis, please.'' He reached out, his hand hovering just short of grabbing my wrist. ''What are you doing?''

''Like I owe you an explanation,'' I snapped, turning away from him and heading to the door.

''I thought we made a pinky promise last night?'' he pressed, his tone sharp with disbelief.

I whirled on him, my frustration boiling over. ''Yeah, that's exactly why I'm doing this. I'm saving your ass!''

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. ''Don't talk to me like that,'' he shot back.

''Then don't talk to me at all!'' I retorted, banging on the door again.

''You're lying about the diary,'' he accused, his voice rising slightly. ''You and your friends know where it is.''

I spun around to face him, glaring. ''No, I don't!''

He tilted his head, sceptical. ''Then why didn't you accuse me last night?''

I kept my mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Rafe's voice softened, taking on an almost persuasive tone. ''Okay, listen. I wouldn't tell me either, all right? But Singh's not gonna believe we don't know something. The guy—he's already killed people for less.''

He reached out, lightly touching my arm, but I jerked away instinctively. His eyes flickered with something—regret, maybe—and he backed off a step, holding his hands up in surrender.

''You think I don't know that?'' I countered, my voice trembling.

He took a breath, his tone almost pleading now. ''Please, Mimi. Just think about this. I get it, you don't trust me. But the pinky promise thing... I thought maybe it meant you'd at least talk to me.''

''Rafe, just stop. I only did this so you won't murder me in my sleep.''

''No, Vivi,'' he insisted, his voice growing more desperate. ''I don't think you realize how dangerous these people are! Everything we talked about last night—you're just throwing it away now? Tell me why, exactly.''

I straightened, my expression hardening. ''I already replied to your question. Save your thanks.''

His eyes widened slightly at my words, and I saw the flicker of recognition in his expression. It  was the same thing he'd said to me during the hurricane, after he'd helped me out.

Before he could say anything else, the door unlocked with a loud click, swinging open to reveal the guard standing there.

''Hey,'' I addressed him without hesitation, stepping forward. ''I need to talk to Mr. Singh. I have something to tell him. It's urgent.''

The guard's eyes shifted to Rafe briefly, then back to me. After a moment's pause, he nodded. ''Yes.''

The guard turned and gestured for me to follow. I shot Rafe one last look, his expression unreadable, before stepping into the hallway. The door closed and locked behind me with a resounding finality.

The tension in the air was so thick it felt like I could reach out and slice through it. Singh sat at the ornate table in front of me, his movements as languid and calculated as a predator sizing up its prey. 

''I lied,'' I declared, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. I kept my chin high as his sharp eyes fixed on me. ''I know about the diary.''

Singh's lips curled into a smug smile, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, as though amused. ''I don't have the original,'' I began watching him leaning forward to pluck a grape from the bowl in front of him. He rolled it between his fingers before popping it into his mouth, chewing slowly. ''But I can get you a copy.'' I finished.

''I'm relieved to hear you say that, you know,'' he replied smoothly. ''May I offer you something to eat?''

''No, thanks,'' I replied tersely. I had no appetite, especially not for whatever twisted sense of hospitality he was offering. Beside I'm not risking getting poisoned.

''Relax,'' Singh said, his tone shifting to something almost comforting, though it only added to the unease simmering in the pit of my stomach. ''Nothing's going to happen to you now. You're cooperating, and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.''

''I just want to get you what you want,'' I responded tightly, holding his gaze. ''And then I want to leave. With Rafe.''

For a moment, the room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Singh studied me, his head tilted slightly, as though trying to dissect my intentions.

''Look,'' I pressed, though my voice wavered slightly, ''I know where it is. But—'' I hesitated, swallowing hard. ''I have to go by myself. Alone.''

His response was a low chuckle. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head as if I'd told him the punchline of a bad joke. ''But how would I know that you'd come back?'' he asked. ''I need some collateral.''

''Rafe's here,'' I said quickly. ''Keep him.''

At that, Singh scoffed, pushing himself up from the table with a wry grin. He began pacing, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor. ''Rafe,'' he repeated, almost laughing to himself. ''How did someone so young get into so much trouble?''

He circled me like a vulture, and I turned to follow his movements, unwilling to let him out of my sight. ''Look, I know where the diary is,'' I said firmly. ''And if you let me go, I promise you, I can get it to you.''

He stopped abruptly, pivoting on his heel to face me. His expression hardened. ''You know,'' he began, stepping closer until he was nearly in my face, ''I built this fortune myself. From nothing. Absolutely nothing.'' He jabbed a finger at me for emphasis, his eyes blazing. ''Do you know how that happened, Miss Kentala? Hm?''

I clenched my fists at my sides but held my ground. ''I can assure you,'' he continued, his voice low and venomous, ''it wasn't by being a fool. Don't waste my time.''

His sudden outburst sent a jolt of fear through me, but I refused to let him see it. I straightened my spine, keeping my expression as neutral as possible.

''The diary holds the key to the ultimate conquest,'' Singh hissed, his words laced with obsession. ''And that, my young friend, Miss Kentala, is my destiny.'' He jabbed a finger at his chest. ''So you need to tell me where it is,'' he snarled, ''or I'm going to—''

The sharp ping of his phone interrupted him. His jaw clenched, and he exhaled sharply through his nose before turning away to retrieve the device. A few seconds passed as he read the screen, his lips curling into a mocking smile. ''Hm,'' he murmured thoughtfully, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. ''Amazing.'' He turned the phone to face me, his smirk widening. ''A text from our friend Jimmy Portis,'' he mocked. ''From beyond the grave, apparently.''

My stomach dropped as he shoved the phone closer to me, showing a picture of John B. and Sarah, tied up and disheveled. My heart raced as panic clawed its way up my throat.

''It seems Mr. Portis has captured your friends,'' Singh sneered, his voice cold and taunting. I opened my mouth to respond, but the words stuck in my throat.

''Ryan!'' he bellowed suddenly, his voice echoing through the room.

The door creaked open, and one of the guards stepped inside. ''Get the big trucks and meet me in the back in three minutes,'' Singh ordered without so much as a glance in his direction.

''Copy,'' the guard replied briskly, disappearing back through the door.

Singh's fingers flew across his phone screen as he typed out a reply. He gestured to another guard with a flick of his wrist. ''Get Miss Kentala,'' he commanded.

''Mr. Singh, please—'' I began, but before I could finish, the guard grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and began steering me towards the stairs.

''Please don't hurt my friends!'' I pleaded desperately, struggling against his iron grip. ''Please! Please don't hurt them. I'll get you that stupid diary—don't hurt them!''

Singh turned back briefly, a smirk playing on his lips. ''That depends, Miss Kentala.''

''Please,'' I begged, my voice cracking.

His smirk only deepened as he waved me off dismissively. ''We'll continue our chat later,'' he said casually. ''I look forward to it.'' Without another glance, he strode towards the exit.

The guard shoved me forward, and the last thing I saw was Singh disappearing through the doorway.

He shoved me back into the bedroom, the door slammed shut behind me, the lock clicking into place like the final nail in a coffin. My breath came in shallow gasps. I stumbled towards the bed, sitting down heavily, my hands trembling in my lap.

The tears I'd fought so hard to hold back finally spilled over. I rubbed at my eyes furiously, embarrassed by how utterly broken I felt.

''Mavis?'' Rafe's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. He crouched down beside me, his tone uncharacteristically soft. ''What happened? What did he do to you?''

I shook my head, unable to form words. My chest hitched as another sob escaped, betraying me.

''Hey,'' he murmured, his voice growing more urgent. ''What the hell did he do? Tell me.''

When I didn't answer, his frustration bubbled over. ''Mavis, just talk to me!''

The sharpness in his voice startled me, and I flinched, the sobs erupting uncontrollably now.

His face fell instantly, regret flashing across his features. ''Shit. I'm sorry,'' he muttered, running a hand through his hair. ''I didn't mean— I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at them. At this whole mess.''

I tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I turned my head away, ashamed of how vulnerable I was in front of him.

Rafe hesitated, then awkwardly sat down beside me. I felt his hand rest on my shoulder—tentative, like he was afraid I'd pull away. ''I didn't mean to scare you,'' he said quietly.

After a while, the sobs began to subside, leaving only the occasional hiccup in their wake. I finally turned to face him, my face streaked with tears, and managed to find my voice. ''Why do you even care? After everything you've done to me? You've tried to kill me, Rafe. More than once.''

He opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it, guilt etched across his face. ''I know,'' he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. ''And I'm sorry for that. I really am. I was angry—at everything, at myself—and I took it out on you. I didn't mean to scare you. It's just...'' He trailed off, raking his hands through his hair. ''It's like this cycle. I hurt you, and then I hate myself for it, and then I get so mad at myself, I end up doing it again.''

''That's not an excuse,'' I replied hoarsely.

''I know it's not,'' he acknowledged quickly. ''But I want you to know that I'm trying. I quit the drugs.''

His admission caught me off guard. I blinked, trying to process his words. ''You quit? Why?''

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. ''I don't know. Maybe... Maybe because of you.''

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. ''You quit because of me?''

''I don't know,'' he repeated, his voice rising slightly in frustration—though it was directed at himself, not me. ''I just— When I'm around you, I feel... different. Like I want to be better. But I don't know how.''

For the first time, I saw a side of Rafe that wasn't clouded by anger, arrogance, or desperation. It was just... him. Vulnerable.

I exhaled slowly, leaning back against the bed frame. ''Rafe,'' I began, my voice shaky, ''I don't know if I can trust you. Not after everything.''

He nodded, his shoulders slumping. ''I get that. I do. But I swear to you, I'm not gonna hurt you. Not again.''

The room fell into silence, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning. I wasn't sure if I believed him, but for now, I didn't have the energy to argue.

''Let's just... get through this,'' I muttered, wiping at my face. ''One mess at a time.''

Rafe nodded, his expression solemn. ''Yeah. One mess at a time.''

I folded my arms, leaning slightly against the bed frame as I began trying to explain what happened downstairs. ''I was going to tell Singh that you had nothing to do with this and that I knew where the diary was. But now, he knows exactly where the Pouges are, because they sent a text from a fucking dead guy's phone. How do you expect this to work out? After you betrayed them so many times?''

Rafe, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped loosely, looked up at me. ''You think I want them dead?'' he shot back and I nodded my head slightly. ''Yeah, I hate them. But not you, Mavis.'' He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching mine for something—understanding, maybe. ''We get out of here together, and then we split our ways. Go back to hating each other like normal. Just a temporary teammate, okay?''

I let out a soft chuckle, unable to help myself at the absurdity of the situation. ''Temporary teammate?'' I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe tilted his head, studying me for a moment. His lips twitched, as if he wanted to say something but decided against it. ''What?'' I pressed, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

''Nothing,'' he replied quickly, brushing off the question as he stood from the bed.

The pause between us lingered, but I pushed forward. ''What about Sarah?'' I asked, my voice quieter now. ''What happens if we cross paths again? Will you do the same thing to me that you did to her?''

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked away. ''I never wanted to do that,'' he murmured. ''I didn't want you to see it either. I've told you—I'm trying to get better.''

I shook my head, clarifying. ''That's not what I meant, Rafe. If we meet again, will it be the same? Will you try to hurt me or my friends?''

His shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time, he looked... tired. ''No,'' he said firmly. ''I promise, Mavis. I swear.'' He took a step closer, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ''We can even do one of those pinky things if it makes you feel better.''

I rolled my eyes, though a small laugh escaped me despite myself. ''One promise is enough,'' I replied. His grin widened slightly, but he didn't push further.

He straightened and exhaled, his voice more serious now. ''I've got a boat that can get us off this island. But first, we need to get out of here. It's better if we work together.'' He extended a hand toward me. ''So, do you agree to be my temporary teammate?''

I eyed his hand warily, then glanced back up at him. ''Do you agree to stop harassing me once we're out of here?'' I challenged, my tone sharp.

He nodded without hesitation.