Zoe barely slept again

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw stacks of cash. The gun. The look in Barry's eyes—like he knew exactly how deep he was in but had no way out. By the time the sun rose, she was already awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.

It wasn't her problem. Not really. Barry made his own choices. But she knew better. Trouble in the Cut had a way of bleeding into everything, whether you wanted it to or not.

Still, when she finally pulled herself out of bed and stepped into the kitchen, she plastered on an I-don't-give-a-shit expression, like she hadn't spent all night unraveling the pieces of whatever mess Barry had just dragged into their lives.

Barry was at the counter, making coffee like he wasn't knee-deep in criminal business. He glanced at her. "You look like shit." Zoe scoffed, grabbing a cup. "Wow, thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

Barry smirked but didn't push. He knew her well enough to know when not to start something. She took a sip of coffee, leaning against the counter. "You gonna tell me what last night was about?"

Barry exhaled, shaking his head. "I told you, Zo. It's business." "That's not an answer." Barry's jaw ticked, like he was debating whether or not to say more. Eventually, he just sighed. "It's handled."

That was all she was gonna get. For now.

She studied him for another second before setting her mug down. "I'm heading out." Barry didn't question it. Just nodded. "Be smart." Zoe rolled her eyes. "That'd be a first." She grabbed her bag, ignoring the heaviness in her chest, and walked out the door.

The second she reached the Château, the weight on her shoulders lifted. JJ was already on the porch, leaning back in a chair, tossing a knife into the air and catching it like it was a game.

"Hey, stranger," he drawled, smirking. "Thought you died." Zoe scoffed, dropping onto the steps beside him. "Nope. Just trapped in Barry's House of Bad Decisions." JJ grinned. "Sounds thrilling."

"More like depressing." Before JJ could reply, the door swung open and Kiara stepped out, stretching. "Oh, look who decided to show up." John B followed, ruffling his already-messy hair. "You missed Pope's epic rant about firework safety."

Zoe snorted. "Damn. My loss." Pope appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "Y'all could've set something on fire. I was being reasonable." JJ waved a dismissive hand. "You're always reasonable. It's exhausting." Zoe just shook her head, settling into the easy, chaotic rhythm of the Pogues.

Because no matter how bad things got, no matter how deep Barry was sinking—she had them.

After a slow morning at the Château, Zoe convinced the Pogues to head into town. She needed a distraction—something normal.

"Well, as normal as Kildare gets," Kiara had muttered when Zoe brought up the idea. Still, by noon, they were wandering through the shops downtown, doing their best to look like they belonged there and not like a group of Pogues who were definitely getting side-eyed by every Kook in sight.

Zoe trailed alongside Kiara, watching as she browsed a rack of overpriced bikinis. JJ was a few feet away, loudly critiquing a display of boat shoes, while John B and Pope lingered near the entrance, people-watching. It was peaceful. Easy. Until it wasn't.

Zoe didn't notice them at first. Not until Kiara suddenly tensed beside her, her expression shifting from amused to pissed. "Great," she muttered under her breath. Zoe turned to follow her gaze.

Across the street, leaning against his truck like he owned the whole damn island, was Rafe Cameron. And of course, he wasn't alone.

Topper stood beside him, looking smug as ever, and next to him, Kelce, who had that same I-think-I'm-better-than-you expression that all Kooks seemed to have permanently stamped on their faces.

They were talking—laughing, actually—until Rafe's gaze flickered across the street and landed directly on her. Zoe felt it like a physical thing. His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unreadable.

For a second, neither of them moved. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted—just slightly. A smirk.

Zoe's stomach twisted. "Let's go," Kiara muttered, already grabbing Zoe's arm. But Rafe was already pushing off his truck, moving toward them like it was his choice, like he knew exactly what kind of reaction he'd get.

And of course, JJ noticed. "Oh, hell no," JJ muttered, stepping closer to Zoe like he was about to start something right there in the middle of the damn street. Zoe exhaled sharply. Not here. Not now.

Rafe crossed the street at an easy pace, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Well, well," he drawled as he stopped in front of them. "Didn't expect to see you here, Jones."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I don't make a habit of hanging out in Kook territory." Rafe smirked. "Could've fooled me." Zoe clenched her jaw. Don't engage. Don't engage. Kiara, however, had no such restraint. "Piss off, Cameron."

Rafe didn't even look at her. His attention stayed on Zoe, his smirk widening just slightly. "Relax, Kie. Just making conversation." JJ scoffed. "Yeah, well, no one here wants to hear it." Rafe's gaze finally flicked toward JJ, his expression sharpening.

"You got a problem, Maybank?" JJ grinned, but there was nothing friendly about it. "Oh, buddy, so many." Zoe exhaled hard. This was exactly how things got messy. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward, putting herself between them. "We're leaving." She didn't wait for a response—just grabbed JJ's arm and pulled him back toward the shop.

Rafe let them go, but not before she caught the way his smirk lingered. Like he knew this wasn't over.

Zoe was back at the trailer by late afternoon, sprawled out on the couch, flipping through channels without really watching anything. The air was thick, humid, and smelled like cigarettes and cheap beer—Barry's brand of home.

She was trying to pretend the run-in with Rafe earlier hadn't rattled her. Trying to ignore the way his smirk had lingered in her head long after they walked away. Trying to convince herself that whatever this thing was between them—this weird, simmering tension—wasn't something she needed to worry about.

And then, as if the universe personally wanted to screw with her, a truck rumbled up outside. Zoe froze, her grip tightening on the remote. She didn't even have to look to know who it was.

Heavy boots hit the front steps, followed by a sharp knock. Barry—who had been at the kitchen table, counting cash again—glanced up. "You expecting someone?" Zoe's stomach twisted. "No."

Barry stood, walking to the door, and pulled it open. And just like that, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning against the doorframe like he belonged there. Like he hadn't just seen her in town a few hours ago.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing. Barry exhaled. "The hell you doing here, Rafe?" Rafe ignored the question. Instead, his sharp blue gaze flicked right past Barry—straight to her. Zoe sat up a little straighter, suddenly very aware of how small the trailer felt.

Finally, Rafe turned back to Barry, his smirk deepening. "Ran into your sister earlier." Barry's expression didn't change, but Zoe saw the way his jaw ticked. "That right?" Rafe nodded, stepping inside without being invited. His presence filled the space like a storm cloud.

"She was with the Pogues," he continued, like he was enjoying this. Like he knew exactly what button to push. Barry's head snapped toward Zoe. "That true?" Zoe forced a scoff, crossing her arms. "Since when do I answer to you?"

Barry's stare hardened. "Since you started running around with people who get themselves killed." Zoe clenched her jaw. "I can handle myself." Barry shook his head, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to stay calm. "I don't need you mixed up in that shit, Zo."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "And what, this—" she gestured vaguely at the stacks of cash, at the gun still sitting on the table "—is so much better?" Barry's nostrils flared, but before he could say anything, Rafe chuckled. All slow, lazy amusement, like he was enjoying the show.

"Damn, Jones," he said, tilting his head at her. "Didn't take you for a rebel." Zoe glared at him. "Didn't take you for a snitch." Rafe smirked, stepping a little closer, hands in his pockets. "Snitching implies I care what you do."

Her pulse jumped—because he was close now. Close enough that she could smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off him. Barry, clearly having had enough, stepped between them. "What do you want, Rafe?"

Rafe barely spared him a glance. "Just thought you'd wanna know where your sister's been." His smirk returned, eyes flicking back to Zoe. "And who she's been with." Zoe's blood boiled. This wasn't about her. This was about control. About reminding her that he could mess with her whenever he felt like it.

And that? That was not gonna fly. She stood, stepping toe-to-toe with him, ignoring the way Barry tensed like he was waiting for her to do something stupid. Zoe met Rafe's gaze head-on. "You done?"

Rafe tilted his head, considering. Then—like he knew he had the upper hand—he smirked again. "For now." Then he turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind him. Zoe stood there, her pulse racing, her fists clenched at her sides.

Barry shook his head, exhaling like she was a problem he had to fix. "You keep playing in Kook territory, Zo," he muttered, "don't be surprised when they start playing back." Zoe swallowed hard, staring at the open door. Because the problem was—Rafe wasn't just playing.