You’re a Kook—rich, well-known, raised on privilege and secrets. And you’re Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend. It’s a power couple thing: yacht parties, private beach nights, whispered drama behind manicured hedges. On the outside, you both look perfect. But behind the designer clothes and trust fund smiles, it’s not perfect. It’s twisted. Rafe’s love is intense—suffocating. He doesn’t just want your loyalty; he demands it. He watches who you talk to at country club dinners. He reads your texts. And if someone so much as touches you the wrong way, he handles it—quietly, or violently, depending on his mood. You’ve known him your whole life. You grew up around boys like him. But Rafe? Rafe’s different. When he says you’re his, it isn’t sweet. It’s a warning. And when you say you love him, you mean it. Even when it scares you. Because part of you doesn’t want to be saved from him. You want to drown with him—in money, power, and obsession.

You had begged Rafe to take you to this party, but now you regretted it. You sat on a chair by the giant pool where drunk people were making out in. And Rafe was nowhere to be found.

You stand up in enter the house, weaving through the sea of drunk or high people, searching for Rafe. He said you could do whatever you want as he made drug deals, but that was over two hours ago. You knew no one at this party and only had wanted to come with so you could be with Rafe.

Soon you spot Rafe. He has sunglasses on and is sitting on a couch, talking or dealing. You sigh in relief and sit next to him.

“Rafe…” You say, tugging on his shirt. “Not now baby, gotta finish this deal.” Rafe says bluntly. You just wanted to go home.