papaya02

[papaya02]

Hi everyone! I have soley been focused on The Sun and The Storm (RafexSamara). I'm curious what else you'd like to see from me, maybe some shorter one shots. Please let me know your thoughts!

As always, thank you for reading!

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

A Sip of Home

The house was like something out of a postcard, perched on the edge of the vibrant coast, overlooking the endless stretch of dazzling blue water. The breeze carried salty air through the wide, open windows, and, for a fleeting moment, Samara felt at home. 

She wandered through the sunlit living room, gently brushing her fingers over the intricately carved furniture. It took Samara a few days to feel at ease in the Cameron’s lavish house - the rich colors and the extravagant paintings adorning the walls began to feel familiar. 

In the kitchen, Rafe stood shirtless, his back to her as he rummaged through a cabinet. Samara found herself admiring his short hair that he had buzzed only yesterday. 

“You’re going to break something,” she teased, leaning against the wall. 

He turned, flashing her a lopsided grin that made her heart flutter. “I’m trying to figure out how this damn coffee machine works. You’d think it would come with instructions.”

“Let me handle it,” she said, walking over and gently nudging him aside. 

Rafe didn’t move far, Samara’s shoulder brushed up against his bicep as he leaned against the counter watching her. “You’re good at this,” he said after a moment, his eyes still trained on her concentrated face. 

She glanced at him, while setting the coffee to brew. “Good at what? Coffee?” she laughed. 

Samara still felt his eyes and the blush that was beginning to creep through her dark skin. 

“Yeah, yeah, coffee.” Rafe nodded with a flashing smile, though his tone gave way to something deeper. 

When the mechanic sounds and  splashing of hot coffee filled the kitchen, Samara finally turned to him, his expression was different now, unguarded, his blue eyes were searching hers. “Sam…” He hesitated, taking a small step closer. “I need to tell you something.” 

He looked at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch, his lips parted with words that he was going to speak. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for what came next, or what he would say. 

“I want to go home.” Samara blurted. 

Rafe’s face grew softer, glancing down as if her proclamation pained him. “I know,” he said after a long pause, his voice gentle and heavy. “I’ll get you back. I promise.” 

The sincerity in his tone made her stomach twist with guilt. She reached out, brushing her fingers against his. “It’s not that I don’t… I just…”Samara stumbled.

“I get it,” He interrupted her gently, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “You miss your family.” 

Samara bit her lip, her hand still lingering in his. “You’ll come too, right?” she asked. 

Rafe gave her a small smile, his fingers tightening around hers. “Wherever you are, that’s where I’ll be.”

Her breath caught with the intensity in his eyes, sending a fluttering warmth through her. For a moment, Samara thought he might lean closer, closing the small gap between them. Instead, Rafe stepped back, reluctantly dropping her hand. 

“Come with me later,” He said suddenly. 

Samara blinked. “What?” 

He quickly explained. “I have a meeting about the Cross, and I want you there,” 

The girl peered at him curiously. 

“The guy, he speaks Spanish and you know how great I am at that.” Rafe added, sarcasm lacing his words. 

Samara laughed remembering the many Spanish classes the pair had, and how, no matter how many times she tried to help, Rafe never improved. 

She nodded her understanding, “Okay, we can’t have you saying ‘grassy-ass’ to him.” She giggled. 

Rafe smirked, leaning against the counter with arms crossed. “Well, then, gracy-ass seńorita.”

“Hey, if you’re expecting me to save you from embarrassing yourself, a coffee would be a good thank you.” Samara rolled her eyes at the boy. 

He chuckled, reaching for the steaming coffee pot. “Anything for you,” Rafe winked, slowly pouring a mug, and carefully handing it to her. 

Samara took it, their fingers brushing briefly, a familiar jolt of electricity passing through them. “Thanks”, she murmured, their hands lingering for longer than expected. 

A/N: A small filler about Guadalupe before Rafe and Samara get thrown into more adventure. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and enjoy this story.

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm

Threads of Trust

Staggering steps carried her, a jeering pain forming at her side with each step. Stumbling around the corner of the deck, she failed to register the shouts of the crew as they scrambled to recover from the Pogue’s escape. Samara’s eyes fell on the Cross of Santo Domingo, drenched, but glittering in the evening sunlight. Relief interlaced with guilt flooded the pit of her stomach. 

The sharp pain pulled her from her thoughts. She looked down, eyes going wide as she saw the blood spreading slowly through her thin shirt. Gingerly, her fingertips grazed the raw wound, coated in crimson as she felt her head begin to spin. The adrenaline coursing through her was starting to fade, her legs growing shakier, breaths more ragged. 

Forcing herself across the dock her eyes fell on Rafe, who sat firmly on the deck, a rifle raised to his shoulder as he honed in on the Pogue’s raft sputtering into the sunset. 

“Rafe,” Samara called weakly, her knees giving out as her hands braced her fall against the rough wood. 

His fingers were still hovering over the trigger, “Rafe!” she called again, desperation coating her voice as she saw the blood begin to drip onto the deck. 

He snapped his head toward her, gaze sharp until he noticed. 

Bolting up, he tossed the rifle to the ground with a loud thud. His expression changed the instant he saw her, his eyes fixed on the blood pooling in her shirt and how she stumbled, trying to get up. 

Rafe was by her side in an instant, his steady hands catching her as she swayed. “What the hell happened?” He demanded, voice trembling with exasperation and anxiety. His hands hovered around her waist, unsure if touching her would make things worse. 

Samara tried to shrug him off, her breathing shallow and uneven. “I-I’m okay, Rafe.” She rasped, forcing a pained smile. 

His jaw clenched as he studied her paling face and fluttering eyes. “Yeah. Clearly.” He muttered. Before she could respond with something smart, he slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her gently as she could. 

Rafe crossed the deck toward the cabin as her head lay against his shoulder. She recognized his cologne and the scent of cigars drifting off him. “Rafe,” Samara whispered. “Why did you stop?” 

She felt his body stiffen with her question. “What are you talking about?” He asked. 

“The gun,” she murmured. “You… you could’ve…” She trailed off, thinking back to the way his fingers steadily lingered over the trigger. 

Rafe sighed for a moment, “Because you needed me.” He admitted, his tone defensive. 

Samara blinked up at him through her hazy vision. She noticed how his expression had softened, the way his eyes furrowed in unease and how gently he held her. 

Inside the cabin, the aroma of tobacco and pricey cigars amplified. Rafe carefully laid her on the single bed, his hands lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary as he studied the way she seemed almost peaceful despite the blood that had slowly seeped across her torso. 

“I’m going to be fine, Rafe.” Samara whispered, her red fingers meeting his sturdy hand still wrapped around her. 

He felt the panic creeping into his chest as he noticed her eyes beginning to flutter shut. Rafe searched the cabin for anything to stop the blood that was slowly spreading onto his bed. 

“Shit…” He muttered, digging through a small metal trunk. It hadn’t occurred to him to pack a first aid kit and there was no way the ship could reach land or a doctor on time. His fingers trembled, rummaging through his clothes and the small bag of white powder he had tucked away. 

Samara’s head rested on his simple pillow, her chest ruggedly rose and fell with each breath. Her deep brown eyes flittering in and out of focus. She felt the warm blood still dripping out of her side, though less gradual. 

Rafe was cursing to himself as his fingers met a forgotten sewing kit at the bottom of his trunk. He fished out red thread, a stark contrast to the blood seeping into her dark skin. Crouching before Samara, Rafe held a thin needle between his fingers, drenching it with the quivering flame from his small lighter. 

He thoughtfully threaded the needle and pulled up her shirt, revealing the deep, jagged cut. Blood still oozed from it, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been. “Samara,” he said, his voice quiet. “I need you to stay with me, okay? I’ll be quick.” 

The girl hummed in response, her eyes dazily staring at him as she fought the fatigue that overwhelmed her.

“You trust me, right?” He questioned, his frantic eyes searching her face. 

He held the needle between his fingers as he gently dabbed at her wound with the cloth. 

He watched the girl wince, causing an ache in his chest. 

Rafe swallowed, “I’m sorry, Sam. This is gonna hurt.” He warned, apology filling his voice. 

She tried to steady her breathing with each stitch, Rafe’s hands turning a deep red as he worked, his fingers trembling. Each sting caused her face to contort and the guilt in him to exacerbate. 

Rafe tied off the thread with a shaky exhale, his bloody fingers staining Samara’s dark skin. Her shallow breathing was the only indication she was still with him. His eyes lingered across her face, the color steadily coming back. Rafe sat on the floor beside her, his back leaning against the bread frame. His heart thudded unevenly in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him, guilt overwhelming him. 

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts, “Rafe?” Ward’s voice was low.

He shot up, chest tightening as his father opened the door creaked open. Ward’s sharp eyes instantly shot to Samara and the large bandage around her waist. 

“What the hell happened?” His voice was dangerously quiet as he peered at her. 

Rafe ran his hands through his hair, “She got caught up in it - I didn’t mean for anything…” His voice was tight. 

“Caught up in it?” His voice dripped with warning. “Rafe, you’re supposed to keep her out of this. Get her to Guadalupe safe, keep her and her family safe.” 

The boy felt the guilt suffocating him. “I know that, dad.” He snapped. Rafe’s eyes fell onto Samara, her soft lips parted as the pendant on her chest rose and fell with every breath. “I-I’m sorry. She wasn’t supposed to be there.” His tone had grown softer. 

Ward’s frustration was evident. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. First Sarah now Samara. You’re reckless and now she’s paying the price. I mean do you have any idea what would happen if something happened to her? Her family?” He shouted at Rafe. 

His hands were balled in fists at his sides. “I handled it, she’ll be fine.” Rafe’s voice faltered. 

Ward scoffed, nodding his head. “Yeah, and when she wakes up. If she wakes up,” He remarked “Then decides that we’re the bad guys, what then?”

Rafe quickly shook his head. “She won’t. Samara’s not like that.” His voice was low and firm. 

His father peered at him, glancing back at the unconscious girl. “You’d better hope so, if you screw this up, you’re not the only one paying for it.” He warned. 

“I’ll handle it.” Rafe assured, though his stomach churned. 

Ward stared at him for a moment, studying his unfaltering expression. “You’d better.” He headed for the door, “And keep her alive, Rafe. I don’t care what it takes.” He turned, swiftly shutting the door behind him. 

The room fell grimly silent except for the faint hum of the ship's motor and Samara’s small breaths. Rafe turned back towards her, kneeling on the floorboards by the small bed. His father’s words rang in his mind as he stared at her. His gaze softened. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” He whispered. 

Rafe leaned his back against the firm bed frame, squinting his eyes as he let out a shaky breath. He slowly felt the exhaustion and excitement of the day cloud his thoughts as he fell asleep by her side. 

Samara’s eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the now dark room. She was confused, but the dull ache in her side reminded her what had happened. The Pogues, the blood, Rafe. She warily propped herself up on her elbows, wincing as the motion tugged at her stitches. Her gaze instantly fell on him, slumped against the bed frame, his neck at a weird angle as he steadily snored. 

A small smile played on her lips, “Rafe,” she whispered, her voice cracking. 

The boy stirred, his focus on Samara within a moment. A wide grin spread across his face. “Hey, you’re up,” His voice still raspy with sleep. 

She nodded faintly. Rafe slowly sat, perching himself on the edge of the bed. 

Rafe’s eyes fell onto her exposed waist, scanning the bandage, ensuring it was still holding. “How do you feel?” He asked, now studying her face in the darkness. 

“Like I got hit by a truck.” Samara admitted with a faint smile. Her gaze softened as it lingered on his features. “You stayed?” She asked. 

Rafe leaned forward, “Of course I stayed.” His jaw tightened as he turned away from her, gathering his thoughts. “You really scared me, Sam.” He confessed, voice slightly trembling. 

She gently stretched her fingers out, interlacing her hand with him. “I’m fine.” She reassured. 

He steadily observed the many rings and small bracelets decorating her hand, before speaking. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

Samara tilted her head, a questioning look on her face. “For what?” 

“For everything,” He explained, his voice barely above a whisper. “For dragging you into this, for not being able to keep you safe…” Rafe trailed off, shaking his head, trying to push away the guilt that weighed on his chest. 

The girl softly squeezed his hand. “But you did - I’m only here because of you.” she said, firmly. 

After a moment, he softly brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Please don’t scare me like that again.” His voice was soft. 

“I’ll try my best.” Samara whispered. 

The room was silent, the quiet hum of the ship was the only sound in between them. Samara’s eyes still searched his handsome face, her heart quickening under his steady gaze. 

Rafe slowly pulled his hand away, though his fingers seemed almost reluctant. “Get some rest,” He murmured, moving himself back to the floor. “You need it.” He retorted. 

Samara nodded, leaning back against the pillow that smelled of his cologne. “Will you still be here when I wake up?” She asked into the darkness. 

He was silent for a moment, “Yeah, I promise.” 

She smiled to herself, though her eyes were heavy with the exhaustion that quickly overcame her. 

Rafe lay on the stiff floor, listening for her breathing to steady. He thought back to the way her deep eyes glittered in the darkness, and the way her voice softly carried trust he felt undeserving. 

The events of the day replayed in his mind - her collapsing, the dark blood staining his fingers, the panic felt with each stitch. Rafe had never been good at handling his emotions, and seeing Samara so vulnerable had unraveled something in him, facing him with an intricate reality. 

He lifted his head, catching a glimpse at her peaceful face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the small window. He studied her as if committing every detail to memory - the pink tint of her cheeks, the way her dark hair spread across the pillow, a strand falling in her face. She was beautiful.

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers gently brushing against her cheek as he pushed the hair out of her face. Rafe lingered for a moment, stuck in the closeness. 

“Shit,” He whispered to himself. “What are you doing to me, Sam?”.

She stirred faintly at his words, a small groan escaping her lips as she slowly shifted towards him. His heart ached, torn between the obligation to protect her and the fear that his world would destroy her. The sun and the storm were never supposed to meet. 

Rafe’s fingers gently grazed over hers, his eyes focused on her steady breathing and peaceful expression. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.” He whispered softly. 

He settled back against the floor, his hand still interlocked with Samara’s. Rafe wouldn’t leave her side, not tonight. And when morning came, he would figure out what came next - how to protect her, how to keep her in a world that seemed intent on pulling her from him. 

For now, his fingers stay tightly wound around hers. Samara’s steady breathing was the only thing beckoning him to sleep. 

A/N: This is a pretty long chapter for me, filled with lots of drama and more Rafe and Samara action - I'm curious what your thoughts are on their relationship so far?

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

Key to the Cross

Samara and Wheezie were sprawled on the large deck, in quiet, girlish conversation.  A sudden announcement came over the ship’s loudspeaker asking everyone to meet in the hull. Wheezie gave Samara a questioning look as they stood up. The girls began down the steep, metal stairs, reaching a lower level of the ship. 

“Samara,” the whispers were almost drowned out by the murmurs of the many crew members surrounding her. She spun her head around, searching for the voice that called her. Urging Wheezie to continue without her, she climbed through the small doorway. Twisting her way through the cool, metal walls, she searched for who called her.

“Samara?” The girl spun to see Pope, his eyes cautious. 

A wave of relief poured over her as she saw her oldest friend. She had always counted on Pope; their firm friendship built on trust.

Samara quickly explained, “Pope, I- I’m not here to cause trouble.” 

A girl quickly appeared next to him, her stance firm “Yeah, you think we’re supposed to believe that.” She shot, her eyes dark and accent from somewhere Samara couldn’t quite place. 

Pope shifted, his eyes still fixed on Samara. “You need the keys to the crane, don’t you?” She questioned, gesturing to The Cross and the large hook above them. 

“We don’t need your help with that!” the girl Samara didn’t know countered. 

Pope’s eyes softened in assurance, remembering all the times he had counted on Samara before. “That would actually be really nice.”

Samara quickly spun on her heel, sprinting across the deck. 

“Hang on, girl! I’m coming with you!” The girl Samara didn’t know called, running after her. 

The pair reached a small cabinet outside the hull, Samara dug through the keys that lay on hooks as she had seen a balding man do the day before. “Grúa, grúa, grúa,” she murmured as her fingers flicked through the small labeling tape. Crane, crane, crane. 

“My name is Cleo by the way,” The girl announced, casually leaning against the metal wall. 

Samara grasped onto a small, silver keychain, slamming the cabinet shut. “Samara,” she said, offering a small, absent-minded smile, turning back towards the metal ladder. 

Cleo followed close behind. “I know, Pope talks about you all the time.” 

The girls quickly made their way back to an anxiously pacing Pope, his smile brightening as Samara dangled the small key, extending her hand to him. He gently took the key from her, before quickly embracing her in a tight hug. Samara gasped at the swift movement before relaxing into him. 

“Thank you, Samara.” Pope murmured into her hair. 

She softly smiled at her friend’s words. “Anything for you, Pope.” She replied. “I’m really sorry, I’m sure this whole thing looks bad.” Samara now held a small frown. 

Pope quickly shook his head, “No, I know you have your reasons just like we do,” He said, referring to the Pogues. “You’re better than them.” He added. 

The unfamiliar voices of men tore them apart from the reconciliation, Samara urging Pope to move the Cross quickly. She watched as the boy climbed up the rusting ladder, leaving her and Cleo on the deck. 

With the metallic screeching of the crane, Samara heard shouts erupting from the dock. “They’re moving the Cross!” The crew stormed towards them. 

Cleo saw the pointed rifles before she did, pulling Samara behind a large crate, the girls steadily watching Pope struggle to move the cross. A deafening splash filled their ears after a few minutes of shredding gunfire and the frantic barking of orders. Samara saw Pope clamoring down the tall ladder, sprawling his limbs awkwardly to avoid the bullets. Samara jumped up, pulling Cleo with her as they met Pope, running around the side of the ship. 

Pope and Cleo plunged into the deep water without hesitation, leaving Samara on the deck. She watched for a moment as their heads bobbed above the surface. 

“Come with us!” She heard Pope yell, his hands cupped around his mouth. 

The girl thought for a moment, slowly shaking her head. “You know I can’t.” she called back, a pitiful frown on her lips. 

“See you around then, girl!” Cleo shouted, a faint smile spreading across her face.

Samara slowly waved before turning back to the deck. 

A/N: I wanted to show Samara's connection with the Pogues in this chapter, especially Pope - they're similar.

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

Bound by Secrets

Ward’s hand remained steady on Samara’s shoulder as he guided her into the cabin’s dining room. Directing her to a stiff wooden chair at the long table, Samara hazily stared out at the deep water dazzling in the late afternoon sun. Ward stood across from her, hands braced on an identical seat as Rafe clicked the door shut behind him. 

He held a calm smile as he peered at her, “Now, Sammy, let’s not blow this out of proportion, please.” 

Samara quickly shook her head, glancing between Ward and Rafe who stood next to her, “No, no, I wasn’t trying to...” She explained, voice wavering. 

“I know,” Ward whispered, his voice tinged with understanding. “You’re a good girl, Sammy. You care about your family, just like we care about ours - I know you’ll understand.” He said, gesturing to Rafe. 

Samara noticed the tight grip he had on the chair in front of him, knuckles white against his rings. Rafe picked his head up, glancing at his father before locking his eyes on the girl - his expression softened in vulnerability. “Look I know it sounds bad,” His voice was low. “But you have to understand… everything I did was for my family.” 

Her brows furrowed, rejecting the sincerity in his words. 

Rafe stepped closer, leaning to level with her face. “You love your family, Samara. You’d do anything for them - wouldn’t you?” He paused, searching her dark eyes, “Your parents, Mateo, your sisters, Ana Lucía,” Rafe continued, “You’d fight for them. I know you would.” 

Samara stiffened in the chair.

“That’s how it was,” He explained, voice more earnest. “Peterkin, she-she was coming after my dad. It would’ve torn our family apart. My dad would’ve gone to prison, Sarah and Wheeze left with nothing. I couldn’t let that happen.” Rafe’s eyes glazed over as he recalled the day on tarmac. 

The girl felt warm tears brim in her eyes as she blinked them back. “But… killing her?”

His voice was tight, “It’s not something I wanted to do.” He interrupted. “But there was no other choice. I had to protect the people I love - it’s something I’ll carry with me forever…” Rafe trailed off. “I know you understand, Samara. You’re loyal to your family, you love them more than anything. I see that in you.” 

She felt her stomach twist at his words, questioning how far she’d go for her family… far enough to get her into this mess. 

Rafe searched Samara’s face, his eyes softening when they met hers. “I’m sorry,” He murmured, “I didn’t want to drag you into this. But you’re part of our family now and we take care of each other just like yours.” The boy motioned towards her, Samara’s presence before him proof enough of her commitment and understanding. 

Ward’s hand met her shoulder again, pulling the girl’s focus away from Rafe. “This is about survival. Families like ours… we can’t always play by the rules. That’s not how the world works, you know that.” 

Samara felt her breathing hitch, his words stung of a truth she couldn’t deny though twisted into something dark. 

Ward crouched down to meet her, “Can I count on you, Sammy?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice almost fatherly again. “This is bigger than all of us. It’s about protecting what’s most important.” He studied her face as he spoke. 

Samara felt the eyes of Ward and Rafe trained on her as she thought. Her family had always been her entire life and the idea of protecting them was commonplace. But this? This was something entirely different. 

Her eyes were stuck on the wooden floor of the cabin as she slowly nodded in compliance. 

A hand quickly patted her shoulder, as Ward let out a soft chuckle before clicking the door behind him. 

Samara leaned back in her seat, breathing in the uneasy silence. She felt Rafe’s eyes on the back of her head as he stood behind her. 

“I didn’t mean to hear what I did,” she explained, voice quiet but steady. 

Rafe was silent as his mind searched for something to respond with. He pulled out the chair next to Samara, stiffly sitting in it before he spoke. “Yeah? Well, now you know.” His body was turned toward hers, light eyes studying her muddled face. 

Samara fidgeted with her golden pendant, eyes unable to meet his. “I don’t think I’ll ever get it. How can you be… okay?” She hesitated. 

He gently bit his lip before tilting his head, “You think I’m okay?” His eyes narrowed at her. “Sam, all I’ve ever done is pretend.” 

“Why pretend?” She huffed, spinning on the cushioned seat to meet him. 

Rafe let out a short, stiff laugh. “Because that’s what you do. You play the part they want you to. I mean what else can you do? People like us don’t get to fall apart.” 

Samara’s eyes narrowed at his words. “Like us?” She questioned. 

“You know what I mean.” He leaned closer to her, eyes locked on her. “You’ve got the same problem. All the pressure from your family - your parents. It weighs down on you and no one notices.” 

She searched for something to say in the truth of his words. “It’s different, Rafe. I… I couldn’t do what you did.” Samara twisted a ring around her finger as she spoke, unsure of his reaction. 

“Maybe you think that,” He murmured. “But I know you’d do anything for your parents, your sisters.” His voice softened. 

Samara’s lips were parted as the words caught in her throat. She wanted to deny the comparison but the truth gnawed at her thoughts. 

Rafe’s sharp eyes softened at her hesitation. “See? You get it.” 

She swallowed hard, “It’s not the same,” she whispered, though her words sounded hollow. 

Rafe leaned back, slowly sighing. “Maybe not.” He agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t understand.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment. Their words relieved the thick tension that had partitioned them. A sense of apprehension, and perhaps something more, forming between them. 

After a moment, Rafe stood up, and exited the dining room with Samara close behind him. The sun was just beginning to lower in the sky as they strolled the deck. 

“Rafe,” Samara questioned as they overlooked the sea. “Do you think pretending makes it easier?” 

He snapped his head to her, intrigued by her question. “No. But that’s the only thing that keeps it together.” He paused. 

Samara’s dark hair gently blew around her as she fully met his gaze. “Maybe that’s why it’s falling apart.” She murmured. 

Rafe’s eyes flickered with something the girl couldn’t quite place. “Maybe.” He admitted, barely audible. 

For the first time Samara saw Rafe Cameron for who he was. Not the bravado, or the cold exterior he presented, but the fractured person beneath the heap of pressure. 

A/N: Hi! I have been working on a few chapters and am so excited to share them with you! I recently hit 100 likes - thank you to everyone who has taken the time to enjoy and interact with this story. As always, feedback is always appreciated!

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

Darkening Waters

Samara had written a short letter to her parents explaining that her absence was a choice and to not call the police. Lacing the note with apologies and promises of being back soon, she left it pinned to the refrigerator. The girl also wrote one to Mariel, who she had missed saying goodbye to that morning. Asking her to watch over Ana Lucía and to make sure all her clothes were returned to her dresser before she got back. Setting the letter on her sister’s bed, Samara made her way back into her room to pick up her bag, tucking Ana Lucía’s doll into a pocket before zipping it up. 

The sisters walked to Salsa del Sol holding hands in desolate silence. Samara didn’t want to drive, leaving her car at the Marina for weeks. The pair arrived at the back door of the restaurant as Samara kneeled eye-to-eye with her sister. She studied her face once more, the light freckles that dotted her cheeks and how her dark brown eyes were watery with sorrow. Opening her arms wide, Ana Lucía jumped into them, wrapping her thin arms around Samara’s neck as she softy cried. “Te amo.” Samara whispered into her little sister’s hair. I love you.

“I love you too,” the girl wept, “please be careful, Samara.” she added, her grip tightening on her sister. 

The large metal door to the restaurant swung open. Samara’s teary eyes met a sweaty Mateo wearing a dark apron. He walked towards his sisters, kneeling down on the pavement, his arms wrapping around them. The siblings comforted one another in a few moments of silence before pulling apart, Mateo gently wiping the tears off Ana Lucía’s cheeks. 

Samara slowly picked up her duffle bag, “Where’s Mariel?” She sniffled. 

Mateo shook his head, “Helping mamá,” He murmured, “I tried…” He added as his sister nodded. 

The siblings said their last goodbyes before Samara began her walk to the Marina. 

The hot afternoon sun beat down on her shoulders as her sandals walked down the large wooden dock. Samara peered at the large boats lining the Marina, searching for the Cameron’s boat. 

“Hey! Samara!” Her head snapped to her left as Rafe waved from the deck of an immense cargo ship. 

The girl had a small smile on her face as the boy walked down the wooden ramp to greet her, taking the duffel bag from her hand. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.” He added, studying her face. 

Samara offered a curious look, “I told you I would be.” She remarked. 

The pair made their way onto the vast dock, Rafe stopping for a moment, allowing the girl to take everything in. The gentle breeze blew through her hair as she gazed at the stretching ocean before them - Rafe’s eyes remaining on her. “You’re sharing a room with Sarah and Wheezie,” he said, motioning to the large cabin. Samara nodded, turning to follow him. 

A sharp whizzing sound passed near them, as Rafe’s eyes went wide. Within an instant, they were both on the ground, Rafe protectively covering her as a small explosion ensued in the gas tanks sitting a few yards away. The eruption was deafening as a thick cloud of smoke blew towards them. The boy quickly pulled Samara to her feet, grabbing her bag and forcing her inside the cab that stood a few feet away. 

Slamming the door behind him, his blue eyes were still wide with shock as he frantically studied Samara. Wheezie sat on a small grey bed, confusion and alarm contorting her face. “What was…” She quickly asked Rafe. 

“Are you okay?” He promptly questioned, eyes still fixed on Samara as she nodded. 

His face relaxed, back still pressed on the metal door as he set Samara’s bag on the bed nearest to him. “What is Samara doing here?” Wheezie inquired, standing up to meet her brother's gaze. 

An annoyed expression flashed across his face, “Listen, something just blew up out there, let me go figure this out,” He snapped, opening the door, “and, Jesus, do you have to ask a million questions at once?” Rafe quickly shut the door behind him as Samara sunk onto her bed. 

She unzipped her bag and began placing stacks of folded clothes into the metal trunk at the foot of her bed. “Rafe asked me to come,” Samara said, breaking the silence, “It’s to keep my family safe,” she hesitated. 

Wheezie nodded in understanding, quickly asking, “Do you want to play cards?” 

After a few rounds of Go Fish, Samara decided to venture out of the berth with Wheezie. The girls watched the ship depart the Marina, leaving Outer Banks behind. They watched the island steadily disappear as a small group of men cleaned up the smoldering remains of the exploded gas tanks. 

“I think I’m going to find some shade,” Wheezie murmured, lifting her hand to shield her face. Samara replied, “Okay, I’ll catch up with you later.” as Wheezie disappeared into their room. 

Wandering around the deck, Samara passed by the cabins and paused by one with a door slightly ajar. Raised voices spilled out, capturing her attention. 

Samara heard a desperate Sarah, “It doesn’t matter that he took the fall, Rafe killed Peterkin, I saw it.” The girl’s voice was shrill and distressed. Her heart stuttered in her chest; she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but her feet refused to move. 

“No you didn’t!” Rose hissed at the girl, “You’re going to mess this whole thing up if you don’t keep your mouth shut!” 

Dread pooled in Samara’s stomach as a familiar voice joined, “No, no, it’s okay, Rose,” Rafe said with an unnerving calm.

The girl peered through the crack in the doorway, seeing Rafe leaning up against the wall, his arms casually crossed. “I did,” He shrugged, “But you have to understand why. Dad took the fall for us - for you and for me. You get that, right?” His eyes narrowed on his sister. 

Samara pressed her back against the wall, her breathing shallow, her legs threatening to give out from beneath her as her mind was racing with what she had heard. Rafe killed Sheriff Peterkin. Ward had taken the blame. Now she was trapped on a boat with him, miles away from the island. 

Inside the cabin, Sarah shot back, “For the family? You don’t kill people for the family, Rafe! That’s not normal!” She shouted. 

“It was necessary,” Rafe growled, his calm demeanor fracturing. “And you need to understand that.” He threatened. 

The pounding in Samara’s chest drowned out the sound of footsteps approaching her. A dark shadow cast over her face as Ward appeared before her. Noticing the horror on her face, he offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Ward placed a large hand on her shoulder, pressuring her toward the cabin. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s talk.”

A/N: I'm so excited to get more into Rafe and Samara content (now that they're stuck on a boat together) - Let me know what you're thoughts are on this chapter!

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

Parting Promises

The wide window was left agape after Rafe left, his face now clean and bandaged. Samara felt her shoulders slump under the weight of her decision. She placed a worn duffle bag, which she had retrieved from the back of her closet, next to Ana Lucía. For a moment, she lingered over her sister, steadily memorizing her messy, dark eyebrows and the way her soft lips parted as she slept. 

Samara had no idea what she was getting herself into… and it terrified her. Shaking the thought away, she began stuffing the bag with as many clothes as she could - shorts, tank tops, a few jackets and swimsuits. Forcing a pair of sneakers in, she paced around her room for anything else she might need. Samara paused in front of her vanity, her gaze falling on a photograph taped to the mirror. Two summers ago, they had all stood in front of Salsa del Sol, smiles dazzling in the golden sunlight. Her parents looked content, Mateo’s arm lazily slung around his mother as Mariel beamed in one of Samara’s old dresses. Ana Lucía was perched in her oldest sister’s arms, her tiny smile mirroring Samara’s. With shaky fingers, she pulled the photo from the mirror and slipped it in between the folded sweatshirts resting in her bag. She couldn’t take her family, but she could take this. 

Tucking the bag under her bed, she turned back to find Ana Lucía, whose small arms sleepily reached for her. Samara laid down, feeling the warmth of her little sister against her side. She fought the sleep that weighed on her eyelids, knowing this was the last night Ana Lucía’s snores would lull her to sleep. 

Samara’s dreams were a bitter-sweet collection of nostalgia. She wandered as a freshman at Kildare Academy, timidly walking into a Spanish course filled with upperclassmen. The projects Rafe has insisted they partner on, brushing off his friends for reasons she never understood. Nights with Sarah and Kiara before they splintered, the midnight Rafe had stumbled into the kitchen, clearly high and shyly asking to share the bag of popcorn Samara had made. Talking until the large bowl was empty, discussing pointless and ardent topics - a moment that had been forgotten. 

Samara stirred awake as the cool breeze swept through the open window. She hadn’t realized how heavy her heart felt until her mother strolled in, quietly closing the window.  

“Mija,” She called, gently brushing her eldest daughter’s hair out of her face. “Mija.”

Samara stirred, suddenly releasing that in a few hours, she would be leaving this all behind. “Mamá, no me siento bien,” she murmured, voice rich with sleep and worry. Mama, I don’t feel good. 

It wasn’t entirely false as the girl felt the pit in her stomach deepening. Her mother didn’t respond, but nodded understandingly, kissing Samara’s head before shutting the door behind her. 

On any other day, the girl would have slept for as long as she could, making up for lost rest. However, Samara pulled herself out of bed and slipped into Mateo’s room. Still asleep, his covers were scattered all over the floor. The girl sat next to him, gently pushing his shoulder, startling him awake. “Samara!” He explained, “What the hell are you doing?” Mateo questioned, annoyance evident on his tired face. 

“Mateo, I-I have to go somewhere…” She began, her eyes solemnly trained on his sheets. 

He rolled his eyes, “Yea, no shit, the restaurant - we all do, that’s how this works.” Mateo retorted. 

Samara let out a soft laugh. “No, I have to go away - to keep you all safe,” Her tone was grave, alluding to their dangerous encounters. 

A confused look played on the boy’s face. “Well, where are you going?” He questioned, standing up. 

His sister shook her head, “I can’t tell you,” she remarked, “I’ll be gone for a couple weeks.”. 

Mateo stopped rummaging through the clothes that piled on a chair, “A couple weeks?” He repeated. 

Samara nodded before her brother embraced her, leaning his back to rest his head on her shoulder. The siblings remained, holding onto one another before Mateo broke the dismal silence. “Mara, you’ve never been gone before,” He murmured, concern and question hinging on his words. 

“I know,” she whispered, unease slipping through her accent. “Please keep Mariel and Ana Lucía safe for me?” Samara requested. 

Stepping back to look at his sister, Mateo nodded, “Of course, Mara, don’t even worry about us.”

The rest of their family quickly left for Salsa del Sol before Samara could get a minute alone with Mariel. 

“Sasa, what’s wrong? You look sad.” Ana Lucía questioned as the pair sat in their yard, plucking tall weeks from their mother’s garden. 

Samara gently pulled off her brown gloves. “I have to go away for a little bit,” she explained, meeting her sister’s impassive gaze. “I’ll be back before you know it though.” the girl added in a voice of false optimism. 

Ana Lucía peered quizzically at her sister, “¿Dónde?” Where?

“No sé, es una sorpresa.” Samara gave her sister a gentle smile. I don’t know, it’s a surprise. 

The young girl gently dug in her denim pockets for a moment before pulling out a cloth doll, “I want you to take her,” Ana Lucía said, offering the doll. 

Samara subtly raised an eyebrow, “Please, Sasa,” the girl pleaded, “It’ll be like I’m going with you.” She took the doll into her hands, studying its blank features as tears threatened to spill. The girl took the doll into her hands, studying its blank features as she blinked back tears.

A/N: Another filler chapter focusing on Samara's family before she leaves. I posted the first five chapters a few days ago and have been met with so much love - thank you to everyone who took the time to read and interact. Feedback is always appreciated!

[papaya02]

Papaya's Masterlist

Updated: 1/13/25

The Sun and the Storm | Rafe Cameron

The Exposition

1 - Caught in the Undertow

2 - Sunday

3 - He's Watching

4 - She's Watching

5 - Through the Window

6 - Parting Promises

7 - Darkening Waters

8 - Bound by Secrets

9 - Key to the Cross

10 - Threads of Trust

11 - A Sip of Home

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm

Through the Window

Pulling up to the Cortez’s bright yellow house, Rafe jumped out of the car to open the door for Samara who still carried her sister. “Is she going to be okay?” He questioned, glancing at the girl. 

Samara nodded, “Just scared. I think she tired herself out.” She responded, her arms cradling Ana Lucía who gently snored.

Rafe nodded, turning his head towards the house. “Oh my God, Rafe!” Samara explained, “You’re hurt!” She gingerly touched the bloodied gash on the side of his forehead. 

The boy dismissed her concern, “I’m fine, Sam.” 

“No, no, you’re coming in. I can fix it.” She commanded, thinking back to the many times Mateo had hurt himself, deep cuts from soccer, sharpened kitchen knives, or stupidly running with scissors as kids. 

Rafe followed Samara around the side of her house, as she sifted through her pockets for a small brass key that would unlock her bedroom window. She didn’t want to explain to her family why Ana Lucía had wept herself to sleep or why a bloodied Rafe Cameron accompanied her. The boy climbed through the short window first. He studied Samara’s room for an instant, taking note of the lacey curtains that draped over the bay window and her wooden bed. Rafe noted the many pictures, letters, and notes that dotted the edges of her vanity. 

“Rafe! Rafe!” He heard Samara whisper, turning his attention back to the window. “Can you take her?” She asked, outstretching the sleeping Ana Lucía. He gently took the girl into his arms, lifting her through the window as Samara climbed in after her. “Here, you can just put her here,” She folded back the pink quilt as Rafe lay her gently on the bed. The boy turned his attention back to Samara’s room - the piles of books lining her dresser and the mound of clothes in a woven basket. After tucking Ana Lucía into the bed, Samara kissed her forehead, brushing away the dark curls. Grabbing Rafe’s hand, she caught his attention once more, whispering “Come on,” as the pair made their way to the door. 

Samara stuck her head out into the hallway. She guessed her parents had gone to bed a while ago, exhausted from constantly working at Salsa del Sol. Samara heard Mariel gently laughing with Mateo in the living room, the television hushed in the distance. She led Rafe down the hallways towards the bathroom as his eyes scanned the many family pictures and paintings decorating the walls. 

She pushed him into the small bathroom and motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. Samara dug through a small cabinet for a washcloth, running it under the old faucets' warm water as he silently admired the tiles that decorated the room - each handmade by Samara’s mother. The girl wrung the cloth out and kneeled in between Rafe’s long legs as he sat, her hands gingerly wiping the now dried blood off his face. She slowly made her way to the deep gash, gently dabbing at it. His light eyes followed hers, unwavering, as she tossed the cloth into a basket and pulled a small first aid kit out of the medicine cabinet. Carefully opening it on the floor, Samara began to pat hydrogen peroxide on it. His breath hitched as Rafe memorized the girl's features as she worked - her dark brown eyes and thick eyelashes, the small freckles dotting her cheeks. 

“Sam,” the boy interrupted the silence and the girl's concentration as she placed bandaids along the wound. She hummed in response, her attention now fixated on him. “That Cross is worth over half a billion dollars,” he explained, “if we find it, your family is set. You can go wherever you want, your parents can sell the restaurant, Ana Lucía will never have to worry about anything.” Her eyes went brighter with his words. 

A look of realization struck the girls face, “I can’t just leave my family to go to Guadalupe.” Samara said, her brow furrowed. 

Rafe was disoriented, “You’d all be set for life. Samara, your family would be safe. What happened tonight will happen again and tomorrow I’m on a boat and won’t be here to save your ass.” 

His words stung like salt in a fresh cut. Samara quickly gathered up the first aid kit and tucked it back into the medicine cabinet, unable to meet Rafe’s eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She was putting her family in danger by being here, it was selfish. “Don’t do it for me, think about your family, Ana Lucía, please,” he pleaded. “It's only a few weeks, then you’ll be back. It’ll be like nothing ever changed.” Rafe added. 

Samara walked down the hallway back to her room in silence as the boy followed close behind. He shut her bedroom door behind him as she flicked on an old lamp that sat on her nightstand. Samara’s eyes filled with tears that she quickly blinked back, her focus on Ana Lucía who looked so peaceful with her small mouth slightly agape. Rafe slowly paced the worn hardwood, studying the pictures of Samara on her vanity, some with the Pogues, a few with Sarah and Kiara, most with her family. 

The girl  broke the silence. “I’ll go with you, Rafe,” she said, “But only if you promise it’ll keep her safe.” Samara added, motioning to her sister. 

Rafe nodded, “I’ll do everything I can to make sure they’re safe.” 

The girl quietly cleared her throat, “When do we leave?” she asked, turning toward Rafe. 

He felt a relief fall over him, “Tomorrow afternoon, 3 at the Marina.” Rafe explained. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone where you’re going. Not your parents or Mateo or even Sarah.” Samara nodded. 

A/N:

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm

She's Watching

Samara’s dark eyes were trained on the door all day. She waited on tables, scrubbed a few dishes, and played with Ana Lucía all while constantly scanning the few customers that blew into the restaurant. More agitated than ever, the girl constantly checked on her parents and siblings, seeing that all were safe and accounted for. 

The day had been boringly slow and daunting for Samara. She had told her parents to go home, assuring she could close up and handle any customers who appeared in the last hour of them being open. Mariel and Mateo went with their parents, although Samara’s youngest sister insisted on sticking by her side. 

She and Ana Lucía were sitting at a table in the back, playing with cloth dolls that were once Samara’s, then Mariel’s and now hers. It was late and the restaurant was empty. Samara had hung up her apron a half hour ago, assuming no one else would be in. The soft bell of the glass door opening and closing snapped Samara’s head around, her eyes going wide. Rafe Cameron awkwardly stood in the doorway, his eyes sweeping over the small restaurant until they landed on the girl who was staring at him. The pair stood, eyes fixated on one another as Samara made her way to the front of the restaurant, grabbing a menu for him. 

“Just you, Rafe?” The girl questioned, a dark eyebrow raised.

The boy nodded and stiffly followed her to a seat at the bar, neither could remember the last time they had seen one another at Salsa del Sol. 

Sitting on the tall wooden chair, Samara slid the thick menu in front of him, “What can I do for you?” She asked, one arm resting on the counter he sat at. 

Rafe’s eyes danced across her face, lingering on her chest - Samara wasn’t sure if her golden necklaces had caught his eyes or if he was being vulgar. “Just a beer,” He murmured. 

Within a few minutes, the girl had placed chips and salsa in front of him, she was now cracking open a Modelo behind the bar. 

“Thanks again for the other night,” Samara began, her voice awkwardly trailing off as she set the drink in front of him. 

An amused look played upon his lips as he looked at the girl, he noticed the way her dark eyelashes fluttered and how dazzling her ornate gold jewelry looked against her tanned skin. “Yea, anytime…” He murmured. “Hey, has anything we…” 

“Sasa! Ana Lucía’s small voice called out, tiny fingers gripping the countertop beside Rafe. Standing on her tip-toes peering over the counter, the young girl was holding a now naked doll and its torn paper dress. Ana Lucía’s bright eyes darted from her sister to Rafe, an innocent smile filling the space between them. 

Samara turned toward her sister, a small smile playing on her lips. “¿Qué pasa, Ana Lucía?” What’s going on, Ana Lucía? 

The girl giggled, setting the doll’s feet on the bar, and inching the dress closer to Samara. “Mira! Ella está desnudo!” Look! She’s naked!

Samara chucked, “I’ll help you in a minute, okay?” She gently responded. Ana Lucía nodded and skipped back to the table where her other dolls lay, waiting patiently. 

Stepping out from behind the counter, Samara felt Rafe’s eyes on her as she walked to her sister, helped make a new dress out of a brown napkin, and returned behind the bar. Samara raised an eyebrow, noticing the boy’s unusually softened look as he watched the tender exchange between sisters. “What?” she defensively questioned. 

Rafe shook his head, taking a sip of the Modelo. “Nothing, you’re… just good with her.” he murmured into the bottle. 

An amused look fell across Samara’s face, unsure what he meant by this she responded, “Well, she is my sister.” 

The boy's lips twitched into an almost-smile, “Really? I couldn’t tell.” 

Placing her hands on her hips, Samara retorted, “What? You’re not good with Sarah and Wheezie?” A teasing tone playing on her voice. 

“I try.” Rafe snapped, eyes still warmly looking at the girl in front of him. He glanced at the door, a grave look on his face. He swallowed, “Hey, Samara, I need to talk to you about something.” 

His solemn tone wiped the charmed look off her face. “About?” She stepped towards the boy. 

Leaning over the counter, he whispered, “Your family and The Cross.” 

Samara felt her stomach flip. “The Cross of Santo Domingo?” She murmured, resting her palms on the bar between them. 

“You've been helping the Pogues with that?” Rafe peered at the girl. 

Quickly shaking her head, “No, no. Pope was telling me about it the other day. I don’t have anything to do with it.” Samara denied. 

His eyes narrowed, deciding if she was telling the truth or not, “Doesn't matter if you aren’t. She thinks you are.” 

“Who’s She?” She questioned, eyes searching his serious face. 

The concern was evident in her voice, “Carla Limbrey. She thinks you have something to do with the Cross.” He explained, eyes trained on the golden sun pennant that rested on her collarbone. “It’s putting a target on you and your family.” He added, motioning towards the necklace. 

Fingers protectively clasping the sun, “I-I don’t understand. It was my abuela’s… Why would anyone- why would it have anything to do with…? Samara trailed off. 

“I don’t know yet, but it does. Limbrey wants it and isn’t going to stop until she gets it. His dark eyes desperately searched hers. “You know what happened to your brother the other day, this is serious, Sam.” 

Samara hesitated, glancing over to Ana Lucía who blissfully played, talking to her dolls. “Am I just supposed to hand it over? It’s the last thing she gave me before…” The girl choked. 

“No, no,” Rafe murmured. “It won’t work. Limbrey won’t just leave you alone. You’re on her radar and you’ll stay there.”

She felt the weight of his words settle in the pit of her stomach. “So what, then? What am I supposed to do?” the girl's desperation made Rafe’s heart twang for her. He knew she wasn’t worried about herself, her eyes kept darting towards Ana Lucía. 

His voice softened, “You need to come with me. To Guadalupe.”

Samara blinked, “Guadalupe? Why would I ever do that?” 

Rafe leaned closer, speaking lower, “Because there’s answers there - about The Cross, about your pendant. We can figure it out and keep your family safe. Otherwise they won’t stop.” His tone was grave. 

The usual cheerful chime of the door’s bell sent a chill down down Samara’s spine. Two men strolled into the restaurant, the bulges of guns evident in their waistbands. 

Nervously stepping out from behind the bar, Samara recognized the tall man, he was wearing the same leather jacket and boots when he followed her sisters only a day before. “Ahh, Samara,” he uttered, “You have something I need.” His voice dripped with danger. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She called, as Rafe gently pushed her behind him. Her voice was steady, but her accent had thickened with anxiety.

Sticking his fingers in his pocket, Rafe pulled out a small knife, “You’re not getting anything. Not from her.” His voice was threatening. 

The shorter man let out an amused laugh, “Mr. Cameron, I see you’ve been promoted to your girlfriend’s bodyguard.” He teased. 

“Yea, something like that.” Rafe replied, fingers tightening around his weapon. 

The familiar man reached into his waistband. You really want to do this, kid?” He doubted. 

“Rafe?” Samara questioned, growing more frantic. 

His eyes never left the men in front of him, “Get Ana Lucía and stay behind me.” He murmured. 

Samara urged her sister to hide in the back as her fingers fumbled with Mateo’s pocket knife. 

The tall man lunged at Rafe but was met with a sharp punch to the jaw, sending him backwards. The shorter one moved towards Samara, pulling out a jet black pistol. Samara’s eyes were trained on the gun that pointed at her, as her mind went blank. 

“Get down!” Rafe yelled, as the gun went off, deafeningly echoing off the walls of the small restaurant.

Samara ducked, palms on the cool tiled floor, hurling the pocket knife into the tall man’s knee. He dropped the gun, now clutching his leg and howling as dark blood pooled through his jeans.  

Within an instant, Rafe was on top of him, punching the man’s face as Samara noticed the shorter man who lay unconscious on a broken table. The other tables had been knocked over and strewn around the room. His small gun had been kicked towards the front door. 

“Rafe!” Samara shouted, as he repeatedly hit the man, blood splattering his face. “Rafe!” she yelled louder, desperation clinging to her voice as the man passed out. 

His eyes dulled when he saw her on the floor. A look of horror plastered on her face. “Sorry, sorry.” He murmured as he grabbed her hands, pulling her to her feet.

Samara tightly wrapped her arms around his neck, her head resting on his chest. “Thank you.” she whispered. 

Rafe hesitated but gently embraced the girl, thankful nothing had happened to her or her sister. 

“Hey, we’ve got to go.” He said, his mind snapping back to what had happened and how much danger Samara was in. 

She nodded and turned to retrieve Ana Lucía from the kitchen when he caught her hand. “Sam, it’s only going to get worse.” He warned. 

Samara didn’t respond, her mind still racing with the sequence of the past few minutes as she searched for her sister. She heard a soft crying from the pantry. Opening the door, she saw her little sister, her face red with tears. Her hands trembling and outstretched. Samara held her sister, “Su va a estar bien.” She cooed into the girl's hair. It’s going to be okay.

Stepping out of the kitchen, Samara held a crying Ana Lucía. Rafe’s face looked relieved when he saw them. “I’ll take you guys home.” He said, stepping forward. Rafe was sure they’d planted a tracker on Samara’s car by now. 

Ana Lucía clung to her sister's shirt as Rafe drove them home. His black SUV sped through Figure Eight as Samara whispered sweet things in Spanish to her sister. Rafe saw the tears brimming in Samara’s eyes with each sob her sister wretched out.

A/N:

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm

He's Watching

The large glass door slammed behind a rushed Mateo, startling everyone inside. His dark hair was damp with sweat, and his fingers trembled as he twisted the lock behind him. Samara quickly grabbed a stack of menus from a nearby table. Her brow furrowed as she made her way to the door. Mateo stood hunched over, gasping for breath. His forehead was pressed against the glass.

“Mateo, what’s wrong?” she asked, concern lacing her hushed voice as she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. He jumped at her touch, his wild eyes meeting hers.

“You can’t be here,” he panted, his words spilling out in gasps. “Mara, we need to go now!”

“What happened?” she asked, guiding him to the back of the restaurant. She stood, an arm on his shoulder, her voice steady and calm. 

Mateo shook his head, his breathing still uneven. “I got out of soccer practice, and this guy—he just showed up. Said, ‘Tell your sister we’re watching her.’” His voice cracked, and his wide eyes darted toward the restaurant’s large windows. “Mara, he had a gun.”

Samara felt her stomach drop. “Where’s Mariel and Ana Lucía?” she demanded, bolting for the back exit, untying her apron, hands trembling slightly.

“They’re at the store, I think,” Mateo stammered, following her.

“Let’s go,” she ordered. The siblings darted from the restaurant, leaving behind their bewildered and concerned parents.

Samara’s bright blue Civic sped through the streets of Figure Eight. Fingertips tapping on the wheel, gold rings glaring in the light. Her mind was racing as they drove, Mateo’s eyes darted frantically between shop windows and side streets.

“There!” he yelled, pointing to two familiar figures. Mariel and Ana Lucía strolled down the sidewalk, each carrying paper grocery bags and happily laughing together.

Samara slammed the brakes, swerving the car to a stop in front of them. Both she and Mateo bolted from the car, racing toward their siblings.

“¡Sube al coche!” Mateo shouted. Get in the car!

Mariel’s smile faded as she noticed the panic on her siblings’ faces. She dropped her bag and climbed into the backseat. Ana Lucía froze, her wide eyes brimming with fear.

“Sasa, ¿qué pasa?” the six-year-old whimpered, clutching her sister’s legs. What’s going on?

Samara crouched down and scooped the little girl into her arms. “I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to go, okay?”

“¡Mara, tenemos que ir!” Mateo shouted desperately, glancing over his shoulder. Mara, we need to go!

Samara followed his gaze and saw him. A man in a dark jacket and thick boots was approaching them. His face was malevolent, eyes fixated on her neck.

“Samara!” the man called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

She tightened her grip on Ana Lucía and bolted toward the car, Mateo shielding them as they ran. Mariel reached over to fling the back door open, and Samara shoved Ana Lucía inside before climbing in herself. Mateo jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut.

Samara floored the gas pedal, the Civic’s tires screeching as they tore down the street.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, her heart pounding as she saw the man standing in the middle of the road, his figure growing smaller with each second. His shouts faded into the distance, but his shadowed presence lingered in her mind like a dark cloud.

“What’s going on?” Mariel asked, her voice trembling.

Samara took a deep breath, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I-I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice steady despite the chaos in her head. “But nothing is going to happen to us. Not today.”

Ana Lucía whimpered softly in the backseat, clutching one of the fallen grocery bags. Samara reached back, clutching her little sister’s fingertips. “It's okay, we’re fine," she consoled. 

Mariel gently grabbed onto her little sister’s hand, rubbing small circles into her palm ignoring that her own fingers were still trembling. 

The car sped through the streets, leaving behind the looming threat—but not the fear.

In the short car ride back to Salsa del Sol the siblings agreed not to mention the encounter to their parents. Too consumed with the restaurant, they didn’t want to further burden them. Confusion and unease loomed over the Civic. Samara’s head was pounding with a million scenarios as to why the man knew her and what would’ve happened had she and Mateo not picked up their sisters. 

Pulling into the small restaurant parking lot, Mateo cleared his throat, “Listen, Mariel and Ana Lucía, you two can’t go anywhere alone anymore, okay?”

The two girls nodded, uneasy looks drawn on their faces. 

Samara lay in her bed that night, eyes trained on the off-white ceiling. Ana Lucía, a usual occupant, and Mariel lay next to her, limbs sprawled out over one another as they slept. Her head was pounding as she thought about the man she did not recognize. A soft knocking came from the heavy bedroom door, Samara’s heart skipped a beat, her legs gently trembling as she walked to the door. 

Mateo stood in the doorway, his expression softening as he met his sister's eyes. They stood in silence for a moment, a sense of understanding reposing over both of them. 

He glanced at the girls wrapped up in Samara’s pink quilt, “You didn’t know him, did you?” he asked. 

Samara shook her head, glancing at the pocket knife Mateo had gently pulled out of his pocket. 

Gesturing for his older sister to take it, he said “I want you to have it.”.

“Mateo, I couldn't - papá gave it…” The girl started. 

“Mara, I have a bunch more. Just for a little bit, okay?” he interrupted. 

She wrapped her arms around the boy that had since grown to be much bigger than her, “Thank you,” she murmured. 

Mateo nodded and let go of Samara, “Hey, is it okay if I sleep in here tonight?” A hopeful look on his face. 

He slept on the soft cushioned bench underneath Samara’s window, his shadow looming in the moonlight that streamed in as his chest rose and fell. With Mariel’s soft snoring and Ana Lucía gently grabbing onto her older sister, Samara was finally able to fall asleep.

A/N:

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

Sunday

Samara woke with a pounding headache. The gentle sunlight streaming in through her large window highlighted the outline of the girl, still asleep next to her. Ana Lucía was only four years old, the youngest of the family. Her dark curls and soft features mirrored her older sister’s as she softly snored. Samara smiled fondly at the girl who insisted she could only sleep in her older sister’s room rather than her own. 

A soft knocking turned Samara’s attention away from the young girl and to her other sister, Mariel who slowly opened the door. “Oh! You’re up!” The thirteen year old exclaimed, causing Ana Lucía to stir. “Mamá made breakfast,” she added, stepping into the room. 

“¿Qué?” Samara asked, propping herself up on a frilly pillow to see her sister. 

Mariel stopped in front of the dresser, digging through an already open drawer. “Just huevos y tortillas.” she casually replied, pulling out a strappy tank top. 

Turning on her heel and tucking the top behind her back, the girl was met with a questioning look from her sister. “Are you going to ask to borrow that?” Samara questioned, stepping out of bed. 

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Can I borrow this?” Mariel asked sarcastically holding up the red shirt.

“What do you think, Ana Lucía? Samara turned towards her youngest sister who was rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes. “Should I let her borrow it?” Ana Lucía widely grinned and violently shook her head as Samara laughed at her. 

Mariel huffed at her sisters, “Since you asked so nicely, sí, you can borrow it.” Samara answered, now earning a small smile from the young teenager. “Where are you going, anyways?” 

“Wheezie’s.” Mariel replied, a hand now on the brass door knob. 

Samara glanced at her sister, “Oh, tell her I say hi.” she said, slipping on a sweatshirt. 

The small kitchen table was covered with colorful plates of eggs, tortillas, vegetables, cheese, and fruits. Every Sunday, Samara’s mother outdid herself with breakfast. Each of her four children piled up their plates with their favorite’s - Samara always took peppers while Mateo avoided them, Mariel took double the amount of tortillas as everyone else and Ana Lucía’s plate was thickly coated in shredded cheese. The Cortez’s kitchen buzzed with a mix of conversations and the combinations of English and Spanish. 

Samara loved Sunday mornings in their small house - her mother worked so hard to make it so perfect, it was the only day their restaurant, Salsa del Sol wasn’t open and the family could truly rest. Her parents had poured every ounce of hard work they had into the restaurant. Samara remembered how rundown it had been when she was little, nonetheless, it was like her home. Evenings spent doing math homework at a back table, and mornings before school washing tables and dishes. Her mother had tried her best to make Salsa del Sol and their home as “Mexicano” as possible, she and Samara’s father had immigrated from Mexico when she was four. Her parents worked tirelessly to give Samara and her siblings the best lives they could. 

The rest of Samara’s Sunday was spent with her family. Playing with Ana Lucía, who insisted they play house with her dolls and stuffed animals. The young girl also roped her sister into playing a made-up card game called, ‘Cinco’, unsurprisingly, Ana Lucía always won as Samara didn’t understand the rules. 

Her mother also insisted she learn how to spin cups on her beloved pottery wheel. As Samara watched her mother effortlessly shape a mug out of wet clay her mind wandered to The Bonfire and the strange feeling that lingered in her stomach when Rafe’s eyes met hers.. The night before Rafe had been unexpectedly kind despite the many rumors and stories she had heard about him.

A/N: This is a short filler, a lot more action will ensue in the next few chapters. What do you think of Samara's family?

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

Caught in the Undertow

Samara stumbled along the crumbling shoulder of The Cut, her steps uneven as her sneakers scuffed over loose gravel. The air was heavy with the salty tang of the ocean. The rhythmic crash of the waves drowned out the pounding in her head. She could still hear faint echoes of music and laughter from the Bonfire, now distant in her ears. 

The annual Bonfire was supposed to be a celebration, an occasion where Pogues and Kooks let their guard down, laughing, dancing, and drinking together. Samara had hoped the night would be like it used to be—before the treasure hunt, before alliances shifted, and before Sarah Cameron’s resurrection upended everything. But tonight had only reminded her how out of place she felt.

She didn’t belong with the Pogues, although they tried to make her feel otherwise. And among the Kooks, she was an outcast - her scholarship to Kildare Academy had always been a wedge, a silent reminder that she wasn’t one of them.

Her little brother, Mateo, had stuck by her side for most of the night, but couldn’t resist his soccer team’s demands to play beer pong. When he’d disappeared with a pretty tourist, Samara knew she would be on her own for the night, the Pogues had gotten into another fight - her cue to leave. 

Now, as she trudged down the deserted road, she tilted her head back to the star-streaked sky, letting its spinning blur distract her from the emptiness creeping into the pit of her stomach. 

The low growl of an engine shattered the stillness surrounding Samara.

Headlights blazed through the dark, slicing across her figure. The sleek car barreled toward her, tires kicking up gravel. Samara froze, her feet rooted to the ground as the vehicle came to a sudden, screeching halt just feet away.

The door slammed open, and Rafe Cameron stepped out, his movements sharp. The harsh glow of the headlights framed his face a mix of irritation and something harder to place.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he snapped, his tone biting as his eyes raked over her.

Samara blinked, mind racing to catch up, “S-sorry, I’m walking home?” 

“Wait… Samara?” He peered at her through the darkness. He had caught the slurred roll of her “r” - a diction he recognized almost instantly. 

“Yeah, hi, Rafe.” she murmured, accent thickened by the alcohol. 

Rafe’s stare pierced through her. He remembered the sound way she would flick between English and Spanish, chatting with her siblings or her mom when he and his sisters stopped by their restaurant. 

Rafe’s gaze narrowed on the girl. He saw her flushed cheeks and her wobbling stance. This wasn’t the girl he remembered - sharp, cautious, too busy with work and family to get caught up in anything else. Samara was so far removed from the disarming image he had of her. 

“You’re wasted,” he said bluntly.

Samara frowned, her lips pressing into a pout. “No, I’m fine.”

“You can’t even stand straight.”

“I don’t need your help,” she muttered, turning on her heel to keep walking.

“Yeah, okay,” Rafe called after her, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Because nothing bad ever happens to drunk girls wandering The Cut alone.”

The words hit her like a slap, and she stopped, her shoulders stiffening. Rafe took the opportunity to close the distance between them, his tone softening just enough to sound almost genuine.

“Let me take you home,” he said, his voice low but insistent. “Seriously, Sam. It’s not safe.”

Samara turned, her dark eyes meeting his with a mix of wariness and defiance. “I don’t trust you,” she said flatly.

Rafe’s lips twitched into a crooked smile. “Smart,” he admitted. “But trust me on this one thing. You don’t want to be out here alone.”

Her hesitation lingered, but the exhaustion in her limbs and the alcohol clouding her judgment finally won. With a resigned sigh, she let him guide her toward the car, his hand firm on her arm as he steadied her.

Once inside, Samara sank into the plush leather seat, the cool material soothing against her flushed skin. The faint scent of cologne and exotic cigars lingered in the air.

Rafe slid into the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel as his jaw tightened. The silence between them was thick, broken only by the hum of the engine as they started down the road.

The vehicle's sleek interior and distinctive aroma were familiar, taking her a minute to place. 

“This is Ward’s car,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s grip on the wheel tightened imperceptibly, his jaw clenching at the mention of his father.

“I’m sorry,” Samara continued, her voice cracking. “About Ward. He was… he was always nice to me.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked toward her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he said after a long pause. “He really liked you.”

Samara sniffled, swiping at the tears she hadn’t realized were falling. “He came by the restaurant a few days ago,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Asked about college, joked about scaring off my boyfriends. He was… he was a good guy.”

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, his softened gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Samara’s drunken haze made her unusually open. “He cared about you, too, you know,” she said softly.

Rafe let out a dry laugh, the sound bitter. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The rest of the drive passed in a mix of quiet conversation and occasional laughter, the tension easing with every mile. 

The Cortez’s lived on the cusp of The Cut in a small, bright yellow house. Samara’s mother had spent years fixing it up, with its fresh paint and friendly garden, it seemed so out of place. Pulling up the thin driveway, Rafe found himself reluctant to let the moment end. 

He helped her out of the car, his hand steady on her back as he guided her to the porch. She stopped at the steps, turning to face him with a small, lopsided smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft. “Anytime.”

Samara hesitated, her gaze lingering on his dark eyes for a moment longer before she disappeared around the side of the house. Rafe stood there in the quiet, the distant crash of waves filling the space she’d left behind.

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he didn’t drive off right away. Instead, he lingered, his thoughts circling around the girl who had somehow managed to surprise him.

When he finally left, the night hung heavy around him, the weight of their woods and the return of many memories settled deep in him. For the first time in a while, the weight didn’t feel unbearable.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, you can also read it at https://www.wattpad.com/story/387343339-the-sun-and-the-storm-rafe-cameron

[papaya02]

The Sun and The Storm | Rafe Cameron

The Exposition

Samara Mila Cortez is the eldest daughter of Mexican immigrants. At seventeen, she finds herself isolated from her Pogue friends and Kook classmates. When her family is in danger, and the possibility of a better life challenges her future, she must choose where her loyalties lie. 

Rafe Ward Cameron is the charismatic heir to the Cameron fortune. In the loss of his father, he becomes entangled with Samara, challenging her values and aspirations. 

Ana Lucía Cortez is the youngest daughter at four. Sweet and playful, she adores her older sister. Ana Lucía’s innocence comforts Samara, a reminder of what she must protect against growing dangers.

Mateo Dante Cortez is Samara’s best friend and younger brother. The sixteen-year-old is protective of his family and their restaurant, Salsa del Sol. When external threats disrupt his life, Mateo feels the weight of responsibility to preserve his family’s delicate balance. 

Mariel Elena Cortez is freshly thirteen and caught between childhood and growing up. Pushing boundaries, she constantly steals Samara’s clothes and asks for advice about her ever-changing world. 

José and Susana Cortez are Samara's parents, immigrants from Mexico who came to Outer Banks for a better life. José, the quiet chef at Salsa del Sol, is dedicated to his family and the restaurant. Susana, the nurturing heart of the family, works to keep their home and restaurant warm and welcoming. Together, they instilled values of hard work, sacrifice, loyalty, and family - never imagining the looming dangers that threaten to tear their dreams apart. 

A/N: Hi! This is my first post on Tumblr and my first fanfiction. I hope you keep reading!