๋࣭ ⭑-.BARRYS TRAILER '.'

The sun was already high by the time Zoe made it back to Barry's trailer. Sweat clung to her skin as she navigated the dirt path, the sounds of the marsh buzzing around her. She had stayed at the Château longer than she meant to, long enough for the sky to shift from midnight black to soft morning blue.

Barry was passed out on the couch when she slipped inside, the scent of stale beer thick in the air. His arm was draped over his face, mouth slightly open, and beside him on the table was a half-empty bottle and a small stack of cash—probably from whatever deal he had been running the night before.

Zoe ignored him, moving quietly toward her room. She was almost there when— "Where the hell you been?" Barry's voice was groggy but sharp, cutting through the stillness.

Zoe paused, hand gripping the doorknob. "Nowhere." Barry snorted, rubbing a hand down his face as he sat up. "Bullshit."

She turned to face him, arms crossed. "I went out. You weren't here, so I didn't think you'd care." Barry narrowed his eyes, studying her. He was still half-asleep, but she could tell he was trying to piece something together. "You weren't with them, were you?"

Zoe kept her expression blank. "Who?" He gave her a knowing look. "Don't play dumb, Zoe." Her stomach twisted, but she shrugged. "I was just out. That's it."

Barry didn't look convinced, but before he could press further, there was a loud knock at the door. Zoe's pulse jumped. Barry muttered a curse, dragging himself up and stumbling toward the door. When he swung it open, she wasn't surprised to see him standing there.

Rafe Cameron. Same messy blonde hair, same sharp blue eyes, same cocky stance like he owned every space he walked into.

Zoe exhaled sharply, already annoyed. Of course he's here. Rafe glanced past Barry, his gaze landing on her almost immediately. His smirk was lazy, amused. Like he knew something she didn't.

"Morning, Jones." She rolled her eyes. "You seriously have nothing better to do?" Barry looked between them, brows furrowed. "You two got some shit I don't know about?"

Zoe scoffed. "Absolutely not." Rafe just smirked, stepping inside without an invitation. "Relax, Barry. Your sister just loves having me around."

She shot him a glare. "I'd rather set myself on fire." Barry sighed, already over it. "The hell do you want, Cameron?" Rafe leaned against the counter, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it like he had all the time in the world. "Need to talk business."

Barry grumbled something under his breath before turning back to Zoe. "Go to your room." She blinked. "Excuse me?" He gave her a look. "I don't need you eavesdropping on shit that doesn't concern you."

Zoe's jaw clenched, irritation flaring in her chest. This was what always happened—Barry treating her like some kid who didn't belong in his world, shoving her to the side while he played whatever dangerous game he and Rafe had going on.

She glanced at Rafe, expecting to see his usual amusement at her getting shut down. But he wasn't smirking this time. He was watching her. Closely.

Like he was waiting for something. Zoe lifted her chin, holding his gaze for a moment longer before turning on her heel and heading to her room.

But as she shut the door, she didn't lock it. Because no matter what Barry said, she was going to listen.

And if Rafe Cameron was involved, she had a feeling she wouldn't like what she heard.

Zoe pressed her back against the thin wooden door, heart pounding as she strained to hear their conversation. The trailer walls were flimsy, but Barry and Rafe weren't exactly quiet guys—especially when business was involved.

She could hear the clink of a lighter, the exhale of cigarette smoke, then Barry's gruff voice. "You're gonna have to be more specific, Cameron. I don't do business on vibes." Rafe let out a low chuckle. "Relax, man. I've got a job for you. Good money."

Barry snorted. "Yeah? Last time you said that, I nearly got my ass shot." Zoe's stomach twisted. Barry wasn't a saint, but even he didn't like getting in too deep. And if Rafe was coming to him for something, it probably wasn't just a simple favor.

"I need a pickup," Rafe said, his voice calmer now, almost casual. "Couple keys. In a couple days." Zoe inhaled sharply. Drugs.

Barry was silent for a moment, probably weighing the risk. "That's a heavy haul. Where from?" "Does it matter?" Barry groaned. "Damn it, Rafe."

"Relax," Rafe said smoothly. "You get your cut, no mess, no heat." Zoe bit the inside of her cheek, fists clenched. No mess? No heat? Yeah, right.

Rafe Cameron and clean jobs didn't exist in the same universe. Barry sighed heavily, and she could practically hear him rubbing his temples. "I'll think about it."

Rafe chuckled again, and something about the sound made Zoe's skin prickle. "Do that." There was a shuffle of movement, a chair scraping back. She barely had time to move before Rafe's voice came again, louder this time.

"And tell Zoe I said bye." Zoe stiffened. Barry groaned. "Don't start." "I didn't say anything," Rafe said, all innocence. Zoe rolled her eyes. Liar.

A few seconds later, she heard the front door open and shut, followed by the low rumble of Rafe's truck starting up. She exhaled, trying to push down the irritation bubbling in her chest.

Rafe Cameron was a problem. A big problem. And no matter how hard she tried to stay out of his orbit, it felt like he was pulling her in anyway.

Zoe spent the rest of the morning trying to shake off the conversation she had overheard. But no matter how much she tried to distract herself—blasting music, walking around the marsh, even attempting to read an old book she found buried under a pile of junk in the trailer—Rafe's voice kept looping in her head.

You get your cut, no mess, no heat.

Like hell. Barry wasn't exactly the smartest when it came to business decisions, but even he knew that working with Rafe Cameron was playing with fire. The guy had money, sure, but he was reckless. Unhinged.

And worst of all? He got away with it. Every single time. By the time the sun started dipping lower in the sky, Zoe had made up her mind—she needed to get out for a while. Being stuck in the trailer, waiting for Barry to make a decision, was driving her insane.

So, she grabbed her bag, stuffed a pocketknife inside (just in case), and slipped out before Barry could stop her.

The salty air hit her the second she stepped onto the dock near The Wreck. The Pogues weren't here yet, but she didn't mind the quiet. The ocean stretched out in front of her, waves lapping lazily against the wooden posts, the sky bleeding into deep oranges and pinks. For a brief moment, she let herself breathe.

Then— "Didn't take you for the type to watch sunsets alone, Jones." Her whole body tensed. She knew that voice. Turning slowly, she found exactly who she expected—Rafe Cameron, leaning against a post with that same smug expression. His boat was tied up nearby, meaning he hadn't just stumbled across her. He had been here, watching.

Her fingers curled into fists. "Are you following me now?" Rafe smirked, stepping closer. "Relax. I come here all the time." Zoe narrowed her eyes. "Right. And you just happened to be here now?"

"Maybe it's fate," he teased. She scoffed. "Maybe it's bullshit." Rafe chuckled, but there was something in his eyes—sharp, calculating. Like he was studying her reaction.

"You seem tense," he noted, tilting his head. "Everything okay back at the trailer?" Her jaw clenched. He was baiting her. He knew she had heard the conversation earlier.

She refused to give him the satisfaction. "Peachy," she deadpanned. Rafe hummed, clearly not believing her, but he didn't push. Instead, he moved to stand beside her, gazing out at the water.

For a moment, they were quiet. The waves rolled in, the sky darkened, and Zoe hated how calm it felt. Then Rafe broke the silence. "You really think Barry's gonna say no?" Zoe inhaled sharply, fixing her gaze on the horizon. "I think Barry's not as stupid as you think he is."

Rafe laughed, low and amused. "You sure about that?" She turned to him then, eyes flashing. "I don't know what the hell you're up to, but leave him out of it."

Rafe held her gaze, smirk fading slightly. For a second, something flickered there—something unreadable. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"Can't make any promises, Jones," he said simply. Then, with one last lingering glance, he turned and walked back toward his boat. Zoe stood there, pulse pounding, watching him go.

She knew one thing for sure. Rafe Cameron was dangerous. And this was only the beginning.