THE place that Eden is taken to is very protected. 

The Bexley is still in the back of the truck, glancing wearily around. They travel down a very long road, passing different landscapes and palm trees. It would be a nice drive if she wasn't too worried about what was going to happen once she got to her location. 

They've been driving somewhere for a solid fifteen minutes. Eden hasn't asked where—there's a man sitting across from her with a rifle who makes Shoupe and Plumb holding their hand-guns  look pathetic, which gives the Bexley the impression she's not supposed to be asking shit. 

The truck halts in front of three men with guns and a guard dog. There's a gate blocking the vehicle; obviously this was a security check of kinds. Eden stays silent in the truck bed, not even glancing at the man who approaches to check the situation over.

"Alright, let them in." 

The other two men lift the gate and the truck continues down the path, passing long stretches of fields and even more trees. Eden couldn't tell you where she is—everything is so long and similar. She's sure she's seen the same patch of field for the past fifteen minutes.

Different armed workers and guards seem to lay in every crevice, holding dogs ready to be unleashed at the smallest threat. There's a giant wall that needs to be climbed if you didn't have a pass to come through the gate. All of the above makes Eden even wearier about any of her friends coming to save her. 

They halted again in front of a nicer gate. This time, it seems to be the final destination as the two men driving the truck and the one in the bed hop out, forcing Eden out. One of the men wraps his hand around her bicep and forces her to walk forward, shoving her if she stops for the smallest second.

Eden is reminded of Limbrey's home in Charleston as she gets a look of the mansion in front of her. It's towering, painted a sleek white. Armed guards and dogs stand on every balcony and in every archway. Luscious plants pop out at every corner, trimmed perfectly and the richest of greens.

While it sucked to be kidnapped, Eden supposes she could be in a worse place. 

The guard leads Eden up the stairs and to the front door. A lady in a maid outfit opens the door with a stiff expression, no formalities or a smile gracing her expression as she stepped back to let her in.

The inside of the place seems more relaxed than the outside, and Eden is once again reminded of when her and Pope stepped into Limbrey's home. The walls are covered in floral spread and wooden designs. A glass chandelier dangles in the next room, reflecting the light pouring in through the windows. Different potted plants are sat in corners.

Everything looks rather normal—normal in an expensive way—except for the different artifacts and antiques that Eden can't help but pick up on as she slowly treads, the maid watching her every step. 

There's an ancient helmet of kinds and different kinds of indigenous idols on display. Golden necklaces and pieces of jewelry are protected by glass. It all gives Eden an odd feeling—whoever wanted them here was clearly obsessed or had a curiosity with ancient indigenous things.

"Take her upstairs," The maid finally speaks up, her monotone voice matching her expressionless face. "The Orinoco room." 

The guard standing by the stair way discards his gun on the floor and grabs a hold of the girl, yanking her forward. Eden barely manages to not stumble—she wishes she could flip off every single guard for how rough they were being.

"This the way." the guard huffs, accent heavy. "Up." 

Eden listens, not dragging her feet as she walks up the stairs. She wasn't sure if Jimmy was right, but for now that was all she could do. Listen and follow instructions so she could figure out who wanted them and why. Then she could try and find a way out. 

The man leads her down and hall, opening a door before shoving the Bexley inside with a repetition of the action. "Inside." 

Eden looks around the room, trying not to feel uneasy. Getting kidnapped and then being locked in a bedroom wasn't her forte, given she was a girl and she hadn't seen anyone other than the thousands of guard men. 

The walls were a solid teal, and the decorations were rather bland. There was a giant window with thin white drapes, sunlight pouring straight through—Eden's surprised there's no hidden artifacts in here like there were in first rooms she'd seen.

The Bexley sits down on the bed, fiddling around with one of her bracelets. She's not sure she's ever stayed so silent.

"Dinner at eight." The man says, watching as she sits down, "I'd clean up."

He closes the door, leaving Eden alone. 

"Fuck," the Bexley finally lets out, gut twisting in unease once more. She was locked in a bedroom of a random house, guarded to the brim with army men and dogs. She had no one to talk to; no one to save her. "Fuck!"

The Bexley punches the bed beside her, an audible thump! following. 

What the hell had she gotten herself into? 

Going into her half baked plan of saving Kiara and getting kidnapped, Eden had been sure that Ward and her mom were behind it. While that didn't make her feel great, it was more comfortable than this.  Her mother wouldn't kill her, and she wouldn't let Ward or Rafe do it either. 

But now, Eden wasn't so sure that it was someone she or the Pogues knew. The guards, the dogs, the mansion, the artifacts and antiques downstairs—all of it pointed away from Ward or Isla. And, while she'd rather not think it, whoever had her locked inside of this mansion very well kill her off once they got what they wanted.

Great. 

The Bexley doesn't bother to try and wriggle the door handle, or yell for someone to let her out! or tell her what's going on!  She knows better than that. No guard would let her out until their boss instructed it, and Eden doubts the dogs can unlock doors. 

For now, Eden had no plan. Out of the Pogues, she was rarely the one to make them—that was JJ, whose plan then got vetoed by John B. and corrected by Pope, and voiced in on by Kie.  Besides, this wasn't their every day escape; it wasn't like Pope and her managing to tase Renfield and escape Limbrey, who had the disadvantage of her age and disability.

Whoever had her now was smart, knew to lock the doors and guard every corner. They didn't want her to escape until he was done with her—if they were even going to let her go once they got what they wanted. 

She was simply stuck, waiting for whoever had her to let her out or for her friends to save her ass—which she found weary at the moment with how guarded the mansion was. Guards at every corner, dogs and ATV bikes to help them, giant walls and check points stretching out miles before the mansion was even in sight. 

All of the above the Pogues had no clue about, meaning they'd struggle to find a way past them.

Eden truly did have to get herself out of the situation, didn't she? 

Having no clue on who had her or why, Eden realized the best thing she could do for herself right now was listen to Jimmy Portis' words. Play into the good girl act; listen and do what she's told without being a pain in the ass—play it smart until she has some more information on everything. 

Eden's eyes catch on five red dresses hanging in the closet in front of her, a note reading 'Pick your size' taped to one of the hangers. She gets off the bed and walks over, feeling the material of the dress in between her fingers—it was silky and smooth, and felt like it would feel great against her skin. 

The Bexley looks over each dress, finding her size and throwing it back onto the bed—getting out of her bikini and ripped jeans wouldn't be the worst. She crosses over towards a small bedside dresser, opening it to find some different sizes of pajamas and undergarments and a hair brush.  Another note read 'There's a shower in the door to your left'. 

A shower didn't sound half bad, either. 

She had a bedroom, a bathroom, pajamas, and a fancy dress. A dinner at 8 o'clock. With this information, Eden assumes that they weren't killing her yet—vocal hospitality had been shitty, but they were treating her rather well given she was kidnapped; she wasn't in a dingy basement, or tied up. 

Feeling slightly safer, the Bexley grabs the hairbrush and heads into the bathroom to take her first shower in a month.

After what felt like hours of sitting in silence, there is a knock on Eden's door. 

Since befriending the Pogues, the Bexley almost forgot what silence sounded like. Someone was always laughing, ranting, drunkenly slurring, snoring; there was always noise when it came to John B. Routledge, JJ Maybank, Pope Heyward, and Kiara Carrera. 

Eden had grown to find noise comforting, and the silence of the room had certainly made her feel more uncomfortable.

So, when there's a knock on the door, the Bexley is almost thankful.

Quickly, Eden gets on her feet, tugging the material of the dress down so it didn't ride up her thigh even higher. She had indeed changed into the red dress, and while she looks good, she can't help but feel off in it—not only had she not worn such a nice outfit since Midsummers, the slit on the dress was much too high on her thigh and the cut much too low on her chest for her to feel right in front of whoever had kidnapped her. Eden had never been someone to be modest, but now she wishes she had something to cover up in. 

The door opens with a creak, the lady who had opened the front door for her stepping inside. Her expression is still firm as she states, "He's ready." 

Eden took in the pronoun the woman had used—of course it was a he—and gave a curt nod, walking out of the open door. The lady steps in front of her, quietly leading her back down the stairs and to the front room.

Fiddling around with her bracelet subconsciously, Eden walks down the stairs, passing by all the ancient artifacts once more. She keeps her eyes up this time. The lady gestures to a room on the side and the Bexley steps into it.

There's a polished wooden table with plates and glasses set up for dining. Two giant windows towards the back with red and yellow designed curtains dangling to the side, providing light rather than any electricity doing so. A bookshelf to the side with a plant half covering it.

More importantly, there's a man standing in the far back, turned away as he pours a drink.

The Bexley assumes that this is he.

The sound of liquid hitting a glass is the only sound in the room until Eden takes a confident step forward, clearing her throat. "Excuse me?"

The man turns himself around and Eden has to stop herself from scoffing as Rafe Cameron's face enters her view point. The boy's hair is shaved down to a buzz cut and he looks more polished and put together, but he has the same piercing blue eyes. 

Rafe whips around, face relaxed. However, the moment he spots Eden Bexley standing across from him in some fancy ass dress, his expression falters. What the hell was she doing here? He hadn't heard the whereabouts of any of the Pogues since they jumped off the cargo ship—for all he knew and cared for, they were dead—and suddenly one of them appeared in front of him? Now of all times?  

"Fuck this." the Bexley can't help but scoff, losing the sweetness that had been in her 'excuse me?'.  Now that she knew Rafe Cameron was a part of this whole mess, she was going to be mean. "I knew it was your dad and my mom behind all this shit—"

"What are you talking about?" Rafe immediately starts storming towards the Bexley, though she doesn't budge or falter in her stance. "You trying to weasel in on my deal, right now—is that what's going on?"

The two teens stand with a foot of space between one another, both glaring at the other.

"I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know."

Eden and Rafe look into the room beside them at the sudden voice, another suit clad man standing near the window. 

The man turns around with a light chuckle, revealing himself to the two. He has darker skin, a dark and heavy beard covering his chin, and is wearing a three piece suit. His voice is heavy with an accent.

Eden doesn't recall the man from anywhere in her memory, slightly tensing at his appearance. Rafe being here set off the alarm that Ward and Isla were behind this, but this man—in his three piece suit and earlier comment on a 'reunion'—seemed like he very well could be him. 

Rafe glances at the Bexley, almost waiting for her to recognize the man. When she doesn't glance back, he asks, "Who are you?" 

"Me?" The man points at himself, Eden holding back the urge to sarcastically reply—the good girl act was only so easy until it wasn't. "My name is Carlos Singh." He points the finger at the Cameron next, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron."

Eden sent a small glance at Rafe. Carlos Singh was clearly expecting him, too. Why did he need both Rafe and her? 

"And Miss Bexley," Eden turns to look at Singh as he says her name, an unsure look in her eyes. "I do apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here. But please, come. sit down." The Bexley nor the Cameron move and he lightly ushers, "Come now, I don't bite."

The last thing Eden truly wanted to do was follow this unknown man. But this could be one of her chances to listen and get information—a chance to help her find out why she was here so she could leave. So, the Bexley trails after Singh into the next room, pulling up the low cut of her dress. 

Rafe bores eyes into her figure before he follows, running a hand over his forehead. "Rough tactics. What about me?" 

Eden takes a seat in one of the chairs, posture straight as ever as she tried her best to keep the thigh slit was riding up any further—it didn't help that these chairs were uncomfortable, leaving her rather stiff.

"Yes, Mr. Cameron, false pretenses. But the ends justify the means, I'm afraid." Singh replies, pouring himself a glass of liquor. "Sit down. We have a lot to talk about." 

Rafe takes a seat on the sofa beside the chair Eden was sitting in. The Bexley glances up at Singh and firmly asks, "Why are we here—why am I here." Truly, she could give two shits about the deal Rafe made with Singh, she just wanted to know why she was here. Why Jimmy had retrieved her and her friends. 

"Well, Miss Bexley, Mr. Cameron, we share certain interests, you know." Singh replies, looking between the two teens. Eden's brows furrow—certain interests? "Objectives."

Growing frustrated, Rafe tries his best to speak firmly and respectfully to the man in front of him—he'd been brought here for a deal, not to sit with Eden Bexley. "Is this not about the cross?" 

"It is." Singh points a finger at the Cameron, smiling. Eden perks up at the mention of the Cross of Santo Domingo—Pope's cross. She assumes it to be still in the Cameron family's hold with Rafe's question. "Tangentially, is is about the cross, but it's also about something much, much, bigger than the cross."

Singh walks in front of a portrait showcasing a helmeted man facing a few golden structures of kinds.

"By orders of magnitude...." Singh stares up at the portrait, sighing, "...the completion of our grand quest. You see, the story goes that 450 years ago, a Spanish soldier came out of the Orinoco—" Eden recalls the name of her room and decides everything is connected to some ancient tale, "—basin with a  few gold beads. And when they asked the Spanish soldier where the beads came from, the Spanish soldier replied he got them from a peaceful Indigenous tribe who lived in a city of gold. El Dorado." 

Eden's heard the tale before, though it's not really in her or the Pogues main knowledge range. They were already busy trying to peace together the Royal Merchant gold and the Cross of Santo Domingo, an El Dorado had never really entered the picture—until now, Eden assumes. 

This must be why Carlos Singh needed her here. 

"And for the next 450 years, people tried to find the gold, you know." Singh continues, crossing over to grab a small knife with designs on the handle. "Conquistadors, knights, captains of ships, tribes, entire nations. All fighting each other in a race for the end of the rainbow. Thousands of lives laid of the pyre of gold fever."

"But no one's ever found it." Eden states, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at the man. She doesn't know much on El Dorado—if anyone's, it was Pope's thing to know ancient shit—but it was a myth. If there was that much gold hidden in a forest, someone would have found it. 

"And it falls to me, you know." Singh looks at Eden, "It falls to me to complete the task. To bring full circle a quest that has gone on for almost 500 years. Perhaps....perhaps the greatest quest in the history of the western hemisphere, you know."

The Bexley wants to laugh in his face. Sure, he was clearly high and mighty on his horse, but what brought him to assume he could solve the mystery that was El Dorado when thousands had failed before him for half a millennium? 

Limbrey was more sane for thinking a cloth inside of a cross could heal her. 

"And you two," Singh points between the Bexley and Cameron with the knife, a chuckle surpassing his lips. "You two are going to play a part in that."

Eden's brows furrow—the fuck? For a moment, she wishes that Pope had been kidnapped instead of her because maybe he'd know something she didn't. What did her and her friends have in relation to El Dorado? What did Rafe have that could benefit Singh's mission other than some cash in his back pocket? 

"What about you, Miss Bexley?" The older man crossed towards Eden, sitting down in the chair beside her. Eden doesn't meet his gaze, body tensing even further at his closeness. "Are you interested in history?"

 "I'm more into bracelet making." Eden bluntly shrugs, "You kidnapped the wrong person if you're looking for a history nerd."

Rafe let's out a light groan, "Yeah, I didn't listen to a word you said, okay? How much you gonna keep philosophizing?"

Singh chuckles, "You are direct, aren't you Mr. Cameron?"

"I don't care why he's here, but what do you need from me?" Eden crosses, wanting to finish up the conversation. She didn't care about Rafe's listening problem—she just wanted to know why she was brought here.

Singh glances at her. "I've come to believe that you and your friends are in possession of something that can help get me what I want." 

Eden furrows her brows, unsure of what her and her friends had that could help him find El Dorado—Rafe had the cross and the gold. Everything they'd found had been taken away from them as soon as they had it. "Which is?" 

"An old manuscript," Singh elaborates, "A diary, actually."

Eden watches as the older man searches her face for any sign of recognition, glancing at Rafe to do the same. The Bexley keeps her reaction as small as she can, merely pursing her lips as she recalled the one thing they did have. 

The copy of Denmark Tanny's diary—it matched the description of what Singh needed. However, that copy was currently sitting back home in the Twinkie.

Rafe glances at the Bexley, noticing her pursed lips and utter silence at his statement. He wasn't sure about her, but he surely had no fucking clue what Singh was talking about. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Eden sure did. 

She also knew that giving that diary to Singh, or admitting to having it, at least, would get her closer to being free but....she couldn't. Giving up that diary would betray Pope, betray everything they'd worked for, and the Bexley wasn't going to do that to the Heyward or her friend group. She'd just have to find another way out.

Lying through her teeth, Eden gives a light shake of her head. "Never been in contact with a diary like that in my life, Mr. Singh." 

Singh knew that lies were being passed through the room. He let's out a tense sigh and inquires, "But how else could you have learned that the cross was on the Royal Merchant?"

Well, he had Eden there. She can keep lying, but he knows that she has a connection to the diary. "Look, sir, I want to help you." Another lie, but she keeps playing it nice, "But I can't. I don't know what diary you're talking about, and you have no real proof that I ever did."  

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that, you know." Singh's lost more of the niceness in his voice, and he seems to be growing more frustrated and disappointed. "Because unfortunately, I don't believe you. You and your friend here couldn't have found the cross without it."

"He's not my friend." Eden shakes her head, sparing a side glance at the blonde beside her. She doesn't need Singh to get the idea that they were ever partners in this mission for the cross. "I mean, seriously, he has tried to kill and fail me and my friends so many times, I have stitches on my arm—"

Singh cut her off, "We can't all be friends, you know." 

"He has the cross right now." Eden snaps, "Talk to him instead of me."

"Alright." Rafe sighs, standing up. He was tired of all this bullshit. "Look, this is ridiculous. Okay? I'm out." He starts backing out of the room, "I don't know anything about a diary, okay? So—" 

The Cameron doesn't make it too far as one of Singh's guards comes up in front of him, stopping him from leaving the room. Rafe halts in his steps, shoving his hands in his pockets with a congenial smile. 

"Do I look like a fool to you, Mr. Cameron? Do I look like a fool to you?" Singh stands up, crossing over towards Rafe, the blonde giving a shrug at his words. "You have the cross. She and she friends had the cross at one point. So one of you has the diary." Knowing he didn't, Rafe stares daggers into the Bexley, "And if you really don't know, then I suggest you convince your friend to tell me." He jabs a finger at Eden, the Bexley meeting Rafe's gaze—she wasn't fucking budging. "Once I have the diary, you'll be free to leave."

Eden wanted to leave, but she knew she wouldn't spill—not to Singh, not to Rafe. That was Pope's inheritance, and she wouldn't give it away without his word. She supposes she'll just have to act stupid and hope her friends have found a way to help her because she doubts she'll be able to good-girl-it-out now; Singh clearly wasn't letting Rafe nor Eden go until one of them confessed.  

Singh knows he won't be getting any word of the diary now, he escorts both of them back to the bedroom that they'd locked Eden in before. As they enter, she spots her sandy and wet clothes still lying on the bed, and the bathroom light still on from when she'd showered—she hopes Singh likes how she's treating his mansion.

"Enjoy the grounds during your stay." Singh says, "I must warn you though. I'm not a man of infinite patience. You have one day." His words cause both teens to slightly tense, "Go to the window for a little demonstration. I think you'll enjoy it, you know."

The man pats Rafe on the shoulder as he passes, leaving the room without another word.

"Oh, don't tell me you're leaving us in here together." A sour expression crosses the Bexley's face as she watches one of Singh's men coming to the door, hand outstretching to close it. The last thing she wanted to do was be locked in a room with Rafe Cameron right now. 

"Hey—hey!" Rafe watches the man shut the door, and comes up against the door, jiggling the handle. "You're just done talking?" There's a small click, signaling the door had been locked much to either teen's dismay. "Hey!"

"You know it's locked." Eden huffs, walking towards the window to see what Singh had been talking about. Brushing aside the white curtains, she hears frantic and forceful yelling, letting out a sharp exhale as the familiar red ponytail of Jimmy Portis came into view, arms held by a guard as he's dragged into the home—the same way Eden had been.

Rafe comes up beside the Bexley, catching the scene. "Who the hell is that guy?" 

"The reason I'm here." Eden rolls her eyes—maybe it was good riddance Jimmy was here. Rafe turns to her, expecting a further answer and she adds, "Jimmy Portis. He recused me and the Pogues, flew us here for Singh. Said something about wanting to try and help me."

As she spoke, Singh came back into view outside, treading towards where Jimmy had been taken. He turns around to face the window, staring at his two captives. His demeanor doesn't seem so kind as it had when he met Eden and Rafe. His hand reaches for something in his back pocket and without hesitation, he whips out a handgun. 

Rafe's eyes slightly widened, "Whoa, whoa, whoa—"

Eden felt her stomach twist as Singh turns around, disappearing out of view to wherever the guard had taken Jimmy. She lightly closes her eyes; it didn't take a smart person to know this was a threat from Singh—give me the diary, or you're next; this is what happens to people who fail, who do the opposite of what's asked.

There's a gunshot and the Bexley flinches, knots in her stomach growing tight. She'd just witnessed a murder. Singh had fucking killed Jimmy—for helping her, for crashing the plane. 

She had seen murder before, but Gavin dying didn't have the same meaning as Jimmy's did for her and Rafe.

"This diary..." Rafe swallows thickly, just as worried for his well being as Eden was after seeing Singh shoot Jimmy. He wasn't dying because the Bexley didn't want to fess up—the Pogues shouldn't matter if their lives were on the line. He turns towards her, trying to meet her gaze. "Hey, no bullshit. Don't bullshit me, okay? Do you have it? Eden?" 

Eden turns away from the window at looks at the Cameron, an easy lie slipping through her teeth. "No." 

Eden and Rafe were locked in the bedroom for the rest of the night. 

Despite the utter silence the two sat in, the Bexley found it her own personal hell. 

Sitting in the same room with a boy who'd caused her and her friends lives to turn for the worst, in a way—the boy who killed Peterkin, who'd stolen everything they ever won, who'd framed John B. for a murder and ruined his life. 

There was no comfortable silence between the two. It was overly tense because in what universe were Rafe Cameron and Eden Bexley supposed to get along? Talk to each other casually like they hadn't fucked the other over time and time again. 

Night had fallen, and Eden had changed into the pair of pajamas that Singh had left for her in the closet. They were gray and silky, much different to the normal over-sized t-shirts—correction, John B.'s t-shirts—and shorts she normally sported as she slept; though, the Bexley didn't truly care what she was going to bed in. She's slept in plenty of bikinis before.

Singh hadn't returned to their room, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in the Bexley's head. She wasn't giving up that diary, but......she couldn't die here, either. Not with Rafe in some mansion in Barbados. She couldn't leave her friends like that. 

The man's threat was clear but Eden had to find a way around it. 

"Could you stop pacing?" the Bexley suddenly snaps, eyes locking on the Cameron. For the past fifteen minutes, Rafe had been pacing back and forth in front of the bed. From her spot on the edge of it, Eden could admit it was getting very annoying watching him from her peripheral vision

"I'm trying to figure out what the hell we're gonna do." Rafe huffs, clearly frustrated with the situation. He spares a glance at Eden, who was sitting cross legged at the end of the bed, slightly leaning forward as she messed around with one of her bracelets—she did that a lot. He can't help but scoff, "Sorry I'm actually trying to help us and you're fucking around with a bracelet." 

"Sorry I'm trying to calm down my fucking anxiety." Eden retorts, sending an annoyed glance at Rafe. She gets trying to find a way out, but Singh made it rather clear that there was only one way that would happen. "Besides, what's the point? You know Singh isn't letting us out unless one of us says we have the diary, which we don't." Another easy lie. 

Rafe replies, "We can't just sit here doing nothing."

"And what brilliant plan have you happened to come up with, huh?" Eden asks, growing more irritated. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to have Singh kill her off—at least then she wouldn't be stuck in a room with him. 

Rafe hears the irritation in her voice, and tries to lower his tone. He didn't want to be with Eden as much as she didn't want to be with him, but if anything was going to work out, they needed to be civil. Put everything in the past for five minutes and try to have a discussion.

"I know you hate me. Okay?" Rafe stops pacing, stopping in front of Eden. She glances up at him, a monotone expression on her face as she awaits to hear whatever he had to say. "But we're both stuck here. Maybe we should at least try to act civil—talk to each other." He pauses, "We used to be friends, Eden."

Friends. A sour expression crosses Eden's face as Rafe says the words. Her and the Cameron were never friends—she was forced to hang around him as a child due to her mother and Ward's close bond, had a few small conversations with him here and there when they were preteens. They were accomplices at times, familiar faces. If it were up to her mother, she'd probably be dating him.

Her friends were John B. Routledge, JJ Maybank, Pope Heyward, Sarah Cameron, Kiara Carrera and Cleo. Not Rafe.

"We were never friends." the Bexley differs. "You've always been a pain in the ass to me, to everyone who wasn't you." 

"Don't lie." Rafe snaps. Eden spares him a light glare, the Cameron softening his tone once more, "Look. I'm just saying if we're going to be stuck in here together, we should try and be civil about it. Talk." 

"Talk? About what, Rafe?" the Bexley scoffs, "About how you've ruined my friends and I's lives? About how you and your dad continuously fuck up everything?" 

Rafe clenches his jaw, his patience wearing thin. He takes a step closer, his voice laced with frustration. "I didn't ruin your life, Eden. Your life has been set up for everything to go shit since you joined those damn Pogues."

Eden knows she's pissing the Cameron off and manages a sarcastic, "Someone's an angry elf today, huh?"

 Rafe scoffs, "You'd have potential if you weren't such a bitch about everything."

The Bexley feels her nostrils flare at the name and she pushes herself off the bed, arms crossed—she's sure John B., JJ, and Pope would have all started something if they heard him call her a bitch, but she could take it. 

 "Fine. You wanna talk? Let's talk." She asks the first question that comes to mind. "Why are you here? Unlike me, I don't think Daddy let you get kidnapped, too."

"I met with some French guy. His translator said Singh was a serious buyer and they shipped me here." Rafe explained, as if Eden would understand what he was trying to get Singh to buy.

Eden ushers, "Buyer of?" 

"The cross." the Cameron boy admits—he's rather casual about it. "I've been trying to sell off the cross."

"You can't fucking sell that." the Bexley looks up at the boy, who easily towers over her. Her eyes are narrowed. That was Pope's cross—it was one thing for it to be in the Cameron's possession, but it was another thing for them to sell  it off like it was theirs. "That's not yours. It's Pope's."

"You think I give two shits that it's Pope's—"

"It's his family's. You can't just take it, Rafe." Eden states, "Believe it or not, not everything belongs to you and your daddy—"

Something ticks off in the Cameron and in a swift movement, the blonde boy struts forward and grabs the Bexley by the shoulders, slamming her against the wall behind them. His jaw is clenched—he was so over Eden Bexley and her mouth. 

Eden lightly flinches as her back slams against the wall, but she looks up to meet his gaze, glowering. There was no way in hell she was about to work with Rafe Cameron. 

"Listen to me." Rafe grits out, hands still on her shoulders as he held her smaller frame against the wall. "That cross is in my possession and I'm the man of the house. I can do whatever the hell I want with it and nobody is going to tell me otherwise." 

If the cross was Pope's, the Pogues should have worked harder to hide in in the church. To keep it Pope's. But the Cross of Santo Domingo was in his possession and he'd worked hard to claim it. So, he was going to sell it and get whatever he could out of it—his father wasn't the man of the house anymore, he was. He made the decisions. 

"And Rafe Cameron gets everything he wants, yeah?" 

Rafe tightens his grip, growing more pissed off by the minute. "I know you think you can say whatever the hell you want and get away with everything because you're a Bexley, but you can't. You might have those Pogues around your finger, but I'm not putting up with your bullshit." 

"You don't scare me." the Bexley roughly pushes the Cameron off of her, brushing past him back towards the bed. Without looking back she drawls. "You're sleeping on the floor." 

Eden has no clue how she's going to work with Rafe Cameron.

mara's misc!

aloha everyone

as you read this im probably on a flight to vegas or ohio. vacation has ended and while im sad i am SO ready to be back home bro (yes kensie hawai-im sad is over hooray)

i always love spending the week with my family but eventually i get tired of these bitches and just wanna go home and write again.

ill have some photos up on my insta (mara_jaedyn) if you wanna check anything about hawaii.

also guys i got snapchat for the first time ever (BIG FAT thanks to my cousin && aunt for convincing my mother)

anywho let's maybe talk about the actual chapter instead of myself???

i had fun writing eden & rafe. like maybe too much fun. to quote jj back in s2 if rafe wasn't rafe they'd be a hot couple and we all know isla has been begging for eden to date him since she was like 14.

im also about to punch my screen if i have to write one more "ya know" season three is actually trying to kill me.

anywho, yeah!!!

hope you enjoyed <3 see you back with chapter 66!!