You Get Me So High | Rafe Cameron

060

060.
Caught in the Current
season 2, episode 6

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The air in Barry's hideout was thick with tension and the lingering scent of cigarettes. I sat cross-legged on the creaky couch, my arms wrapped tightly around myself as Rafe paced back and forth. Barry leaned casually against the doorway, smirking as if the chaos around him was just another Tuesday.

"You know this isn't a charity," Barry said, his tone lazy but laced with a warning. "I don't house fugitives for free, Rafe."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll get you your cut," Rafe snapped, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"You better," Barry replied, his smirk deepening. "And maybe sooner than later, considering the cops are crawling all over this island looking for your sorry ass."

My head snapped up, my nerves already on edge. "They're still searching?"

"Of course they are," Barry said, lighting a cigarette. "This isn't gonna blow over anytime soon."

Before anyone could respond, the door swung open, and Ward stepped inside, his presence commanding and immediately silencing the room. He carried a small duffle bag in one hand and his usual air of control in the other.

"Dad?" Rafe said, his voice wavering slightly.

Ward closed the door behind him and dropped the duffle bag onto the coffee table. "This is enough cash to get you to Wilmington," he said, his tone low and urgent. "From there, you'll head to my office. The address is inside the bag, along with detailed instructions for the rest of your trip. You'll need to move fast and keep your heads down."

I leaned forward, my chest tightening. "Wilmington? What happens when we get there?"

"There's a plane waiting," Ward said. "It'll take you to a safe location. Somewhere far from here."

"Safe?" Rafe asked, his brows furrowing. "What about you? What about Wheezie and Rose?"

"We'll handle things here," Ward replied, his voice sharp. "Your job is to get out of sight until I can clean this up."

I exchanged a glance with Rafe, my stomach churning with unease. This plan felt too abrupt, too desperate.

"And if we get caught?" I asked quietly.

Ward's eyes locked onto mine, cold and unwavering. "You won't. Follow the plan, Emery. I've taken care of everything."

Rafe sighed heavily, his shoulders tense as he grabbed the duffle bag. "Fine. Let's go."

We left Barry's hideout under the cover of dusk, the air cool but carrying the weight of our predicament. The plan was simple: get to Wilmington, follow Ward's instructions, and disappear. But as we climbed into an old fishing boat Barry had lent them to navigate the river, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong.

Rafe was unusually quiet as he steered the boat, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. I sat on the bench beside him, the wind tugging at my hair as we glided down the dark, still waters.

"You okay?" I asked softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable. "No, not really. But I'll deal."

I frowned, my concern growing. Rafe was always quick to put up walls, but this time felt different.

"I'm serious," I pressed. "You don't have to act like everything's fine—"

Rafe cut me off, his voice sharp. "I said I'll deal with it, Dawson. Just drop it."

Before I could respond, the sound of engines filled the air, growing louder by the second. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to see a line of patrol boats closing in behind us, their searchlights cutting through the darkness.

"Rafe..."

"I see them," he muttered, his jaw tightening.

The boats grew closer, and my panic surged. "What do we do?"

Rafe didn't answer. Instead, he pushed the throttle forward, the boat lurching ahead as he tried to outrun their pursuers.

"Stop the boat!" a voice called through a loudspeaker. "This is the police. Stop the boat now!"

"They're gonna catch us!" I shouted, gripping the side of the boat as it rocked violently.

"I'm not stopping," Rafe growled, his eyes fixed on the water ahead.

But the patrol boats were faster, cutting off our escape and forcing Rafe to slow down. My stomach twisted as the officers closed in, their weapons drawn and their voices commanding.

"Step away from the controls!" one of them barked.

Rafe hesitated, his hands still on the wheel.

"Rafe, don't," I pleaded, my voice trembling.

Finally, he let go and raised his hands in surrender. The officers boarded their boat quickly, their movements precise and intimidating.

"Rafe Cameron," one of them said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "You're under arrest for the murder of Sheriff Peterkin."

"No, wait—" I started, but my voice faltered as I watched them restrain Rafe, forcing him to his knees.

He looked up at me, his expression a mix of anger and resignation. "Stay with the plan," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

Mys chest tightened, tears stinging my eyes as the officers hauled him to his feet and led him onto their boat.

"Miss," another officer said, addressing me. "We're going to need to ask you some questions."

I nodded numbly, my mind racing. I could feel the weight of Rafe's words pressing down on me, the enormity of what had just happened sinking in.

As the patrol boats turned back toward the shore, I sat in stunned silence, my heart heavy and my thoughts consumed by what came next.