Every time she closed her eyes, Rafe's words echoed in her head. You really think Barry's gonna say no? The worst part? She didn't know. Barry was unpredictable, especially when money was involved. And Rafe—Rafe didn't take no for an answer.

By morning, she had made a decision. She needed to talk to Barry before he did something stupid.

Dragging herself out of bed, she threw on a tank top and shorts, running a hand through her messy hair before stepping into the kitchen. The trailer was quiet, the air thick with last night's cigarette smoke and the lingering scent of cheap beer.

Barry was at the counter, pouring himself a coffee. He looked like hell—bloodshot eyes, a fresh bruise on his jaw. Whatever he had been up to last night, it hadn't been good.

Zoe leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Busy night?" Barry grunted, sipping his coffee. "What do you want?" She got straight to the point. "Tell me you're not taking Rafe's deal."

Barry sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Not this again." "Yes, this again," she shot back. "You know he's setting you up, right? Rafe doesn't just hand out money. He owns people."

Barry's grip on the mug tightened, his jaw ticking. "I can handle Rafe." "No, you think you can handle Rafe," she snapped. "But he'll chew you up and spit you out just like everyone else."

Barry slammed the mug down, coffee sloshing over the side. "Stay out of it, Zoe." She exhaled sharply, anger bubbling in her chest. "You keep saying that, but guess what? If you screw this up, it's my life on the line too. You think Rafe's just gonna leave me out of it?"

Barry didn't answer. He didn't have to. They both knew the truth. Zoe shook her head, pushing off the doorframe. "You're making a mistake."

Barry sighed, softer this time. "Just stay out of it, Zo." But she couldn't.

Because she had a feeling that if Barry said yes to Rafe, none of them were walking away from this clean.

That night, Zoe found herself at the Château again.
It was the only place that felt normal—a place where Rafe and Barry's bullshit didn't exist, where she could pretend, even for a little while, that she wasn't caught up in something bigger than her.

The Pogues were mid-argument when she arrived, JJ and Pope going back and forth about something stupid, Kiara rolling her eyes from her spot on the couch.

John B was the first to notice her. "Well, look who it is." Zoe smirked, dropping onto the armrest next to Kiara. "Hope I'm not interrupting another one of JJ's terrible ideas."

JJ gasped dramatically. "Terrible? I prefer genius." Pope snorted. "More like guaranteed to get us arrested."

Zoe let the conversation swirl around her, relaxing for the first time all day. But the peace didn't last long. Because not even ten minutes later, JJ said, "So, I heard Rafe was lurking around The Wreck yesterday."

Zoe's stomach tightened. Kiara wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, don't remind me. He gives me the creeps."

John B frowned. "What's he up to now?" Zoe stayed quiet, staring at the beer bottle in her hands. JJ, of course, noticed. "You okay over there, Jones?" She forced a smirk. "You know me. Always." But the truth was, she wasn't sure how much longer she could pretend.

Zoe had always been good at pretending. Pretending she wasn't scared. Pretending she didn't care. Pretending she wasn't in over her head.

But as she sat in the Château, listening to the Pogues talk about Rafe like he was just another Kook problem and not a storm brewing right at her doorstep, she felt it—the slow, suffocating feeling of something closing in.

And she had no idea how to stop it. She forced herself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Kiara was saying, "It's probably just another one of his daddy's drug runs. Same shit, different day."

John B nodded, sipping his beer. "Yeah, but you'd think after all the heat on him, he'd lay low for a while." Zoe let out a humorless laugh before she could stop herself. "Rafe Cameron doesn't do laying low." JJ smirked. "Speaking from experience?"

Her jaw tightened, but she forced a shrug. "Just an observation." She could feel John B's eyes on her, sharp and assessing. "You'd tell us if something was up, right?" Zoe hesitated for half a second too long.

And in that half-second, Kiara's expression shifted, like she had just put something together. "Wait," she said slowly. "You saw him, didn't you?" Zoe exhaled, leaning her head back against the couch. "Something like that."

JJ groaned. "Damn it, Zoe. Why do you always get caught up with the worst people?" Pope frowned. "Was he at Barry's?" Zoe hesitated again, which was answer enough. "Shit," John B muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That's bad news."

"No kidding," Pope agreed. "What did he want?" Zoe bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't stupid—she knew the Pogues hated Rafe. If she told them everything, if they knew he was trying to drag Barry into something big, it wouldn't just stay her problem.

John B, especially, would make it his problem too. And if there was one thing Zoe had learned about Rafe Cameron, it was that people who got in his way didn't come out unscathed. So she shook her head. "Does it matter? It's just Rafe being Rafe."

Kiara gave her a look. "You're a terrible liar." Zoe huffed a laugh. "And yet, you all still let me hang out with you." John B didn't let it go that easily. "Seriously, Zoe. If he's messing with you—"

"He's not," she cut in quickly. "Barry's his business, not me." Pope didn't look convinced. "You're Barry's business. And if Rafe's in his ear, he's in yours too." Zoe opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of JJ cracking open another beer cut her off.

JJ lifted his beer in the air. "Okay, okay. Enough about Rafe Freaking Cameron. Can we please talk about something that doesn't make me wanna put my fist through a wall?"

Zoe smirked, grateful for the distraction. "Like what? Your latest dumbass plan?" JJ pointed at her. "Exactly." Kiara groaned. "God help us."

Zoe let the conversation swirl around her again, trying to ignore the fact that John B was still watching her like he knew she wasn't telling them everything. But she pushed it down, let herself laugh when JJ said something stupid, and for a little while, she almost forgot.

Almost. But reality had a way of catching up fast.

By the time Zoe made it back to the trailer, the sun had set, leaving the sky a deep indigo. She had half a second of peace before she noticed something was off. The porch light was on. Barry never left the porch light on.

Her stomach twisted as she stepped closer, her ears straining for any sound from inside. She was halfway up the steps when the front door swung open. And there he was. Rafe.

His shirt was wrinkled, his blond hair messier than usual, and there was that look in his eyes again—that sharp, unreadable glint that sent every alarm in Zoe's body blaring.

They both stood there for a second, locked in a silent standoff. Then Rafe smirked. "Look who finally made it home." Zoe didn't move. "What are you doing here?"

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, like he had all the time in the world. "Just business." Her jaw clenched. "With Barry?" He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Who else?"

Zoe pushed past him, stepping inside. Barry was at the table, counting out a wad of cash. Her stomach sank. He said yes.

Barry barely glanced at her. "Relax, Zo. It's under control." Under control. Right. Because everything was under control when Rafe Cameron was involved. Zoe turned back to Rafe, her pulse picking up. "You got what you wanted. Now get out."

Rafe chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Always so hostile, Jones." She held her ground. "Get. Out." For a second, something flickered in his expression—something almost amused. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he pushed off the doorframe. "Fine. I was leaving anyway."

He walked past her, stopping just long enough to lean in close, voice low. "See you around."

And just like that, he was gone. Zoe stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. Because she knew, without a doubt, that this wasn't over.

Not even close.