Chapter Text
The streetlights flickered dimly along the quiet suburban path, casting long shadows that danced with the evening breeze. Rey hurried her steps, her earbuds blasting a upbeat indie track that drowned out the world around her. She had just finished a late shift at the coffee shop, her backpack slung over one shoulder, filled with her sketchbook and a half-eaten sandwich. The cool night air nipped at her exposed arms, but she barely noticed, lost in the rhythm pulsing through her headphones. Home was only a few blocks away—a small apartment she shared with a roommate who was probably out on another date.
Unseen in the darkness, Ben Solo watched from the alleyway, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and raw hunger. For almost two years, he had followed her every move. He knew her schedule better than his own: the way she lingered at the park on Sundays, sketching strangers; the coffee she ordered every morning; the soft curve of her hips as she walked, swaying just enough to drive him insane. His collection of photos hidden in his apartment told the story of his obsession—snaps from afar, zoomed in on her smile. Tonight, it ended. No more watching. She would be his.
He moved like a shadow, silent and swift, his large frame cloaked in a black hoodie. The jeep was parked just ahead, doors unlocked, ready. As Rey passed the mouth of the alley, he struck. One gloved hand clamped over her mouth, yanking her backward with brutal force. She gasped, the music cutting off as her earbuds tumbled to the pavement. Her eyes widened in terror, arms flailing wildly as she tried to scream, but his grip muffled the sound into a pathetic whimper.
"Shh, Rey," he whispered hotly against her ear, his voice a low growl laced with possession. "I've got you now."
She thrashed, kicking at his shins, but Ben was stronger, his body pinning hers against the brick wall for a split second before he dragged her toward the jeep. A cloth soaked in chloroform pressed over her nose and mouth, the chemical fumes burning her lungs. Her struggles weakened, vision blurring as darkness claimed her. The last thing she felt was his arm around her waist, pulling her limp form into the vehicle.
Rey's eyelids fluttered open to a world blurred by lingering haze, the chloroform's grip still clawing at her senses. Her head pounded, thoughts sluggish and fragmented, as if swimming through thick fog. She pushed herself up on trembling arms, the rough ground scraping her palms—dirt and damp leaves sticking to her skin. Where was she? The air hung heavy with the scent of wet earth and pine, trees looming like silent sentinels around her. A forest, maybe? Woods? The canopy above filtered the downpour into a relentless patter, rain soaking her instantly.
She glanced down, heart lurching. Her clothes—gone. Just her thin bra clinging to her chest, soaked and translucent. Panties plastered to her hips, the fabric heavy with water. Barefoot, toes curling into the muddy soil, cold seeping into her bones. She shivered violently, arms wrapping around herself as she scanned the shadows. Nothing but endless trees, twisted branches reaching like fingers in the storm. No path, no light, no sign of rescue.
A twig snapped nearby, sharp and deliberate. Rey whipped around, breath catching in her throat. There, emerging from the gloom, stood a figure—tall, broad, cloaked in darkness. A mask covered his face, black and featureless save for slits that revealed eyes burning with intensity. He moved with predatory grace, water streaming down his hooded jacket.
"Hello, my sweet flower," his voice rumbled, deep and dark, vibrating through the rain like thunder.
Rey scrambled back, knees sinking into the muck.
"Who are you?" Her words slurred slightly, the drug's echo making her tongue heavy.
He tilted his head, a low laugh escaping him—chilling, resonant. It echoed off the trees, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over her exposed skin.
"What do you want with me?" she demanded, voice rising despite the fear knotting her gut.
He stepped closer, boots crunching leaves underfoot. Rey retreated instinctively, bare heels sliding in the wet earth, sharp pebbles biting into her soles. Rain lashed her face, mixing with the tears she hadn't realized were falling. Cold water trickled down her back, her bra straps digging into her shoulders as she hugged herself tighter.
"I'm going to give you one minute to run," he said, tone dark and haunting, laced with promise. "But if I catch you... you are mine."
Confusion swirled in her mind, the words not fully penetrating the chloroform's veil. Run? Catch? It sounded like a twisted game, but his eyes—those dark eyes—held no playfulness, only raw possession. She blinked, rain blurring her vision, body aching from the rough awakening.
"Sixty," he began, voice steady and unyielding, stepping back to give her space.
The number hit her like ice water. This wasn't a dream, not a joke. Panic ignited, sharpening her senses.
"Fifty-nine,"
She bolted, bare feet pounding the forest floor, branches whipping her arms and legs as she plunged into the underbrush. Thorns tore at her skin, rain blinding her, but she ran—heart slamming, breath ragged—knowing he was counting, closing in.
Rey's bare feet slapped against the slick forest floor, each step a jolt of pain through her soles as roots and stones bruised her skin. The rain hammered down relentlessly, turning the ground into a treacherous mire that sucked at her ankles with every frantic stride. Branches clawed at her arms, leaving red welts that stung like fire, while thorns snagged her panties, nearly tripping her. Her bra, sodden and heavy, the cold air pebbling her skin into tight gooseflesh. Lungs burning, she gasped for breath, the chloroform's residue making her head spin, vision tunneling on the shadowy path ahead—or what passed for one in this endless labyrinth of trees. Behind her, his voice cut through the storm like a blade.
"Fifty-eight... fifty-seven..." Each number echoed, deliberate and unhurried, fueling the terror coiling in her gut. She could hear him now, not moving yet, but his presence loomed, a predator savoring the hunt. Her mind raced faster than her body—Who was he? Why her? Fragments of memory flickered: walking home, music in her ears, rough hands... but it all dissolved into the downpour.
She veered left, dodging a low-hanging limb that whipped across her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood that mixed with the rain. The forest seemed to close in, trunks blurring into a wall of gray and green. Her toes caught on a hidden root, sending her sprawling forward. She hit the mud hard, elbows scraping, breath knocked out in a whoosh. Pain shot through her knees, but she scrambled up, ignoring the mud caking her thighs, the way it smeared across her belly. No time to stop.
Run.
Survive.
"Forty-five," he called, closer now? Or was it the rain playing tricks? The counting continued, steady as a heartbeat, each decrement twisting the knife of dread deeper. Rey pushed harder, arms pumping, muscles screaming from the cold and exertion. Water streamed into her eyes, blinding her momentarily, and she slammed into a tree trunk, bark biting into her shoulder. A sob escaped her lips, but she pressed on, weaving through denser undergrowth where ferns slapped wetly against her legs.
The air grew thicker, the scent of moss and decay overwhelming. Her bare skin prickled with exposure—every raindrop a reminder of her vulnerability, the thin fabric of her underwear doing nothing to shield her from the chill or the unseen eyes tracking her. She glanced back once, heart seizing. Nothing but rain-swept shadows. But she felt him, that dark energy pulling at her like gravity.
"Thirty," his voice rumbled, laced with amusement now, dark and velvety. It sent a shiver unrelated to the cold racing down her spine. She burst into a small clearing, the trees parting just enough to reveal a faint moonlight glow filtering through the clouds. Hope flickered—maybe a way out? But the ground here was softer, a boggy patch that swallowed her foot up to the ankle. She yanked it free with a curse, mud squelching between her toes, and plunged onward.
"Twenty."
"Fifteen."
The numbers blurred in her panic, her body a machine of pure instinct. Thighs burning, she leaped over a fallen log, landing awkwardly and twisting her ankle. Pain lanced up her leg, but she bit back a cry, forcing herself forward. The rain eased slightly, but the wind howled, whipping her wet hair across her face like lashes.
"Ten... nine..." He was moving now—she heard the crack of twigs, the splash of boots in puddles. Closer. Gaining. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the storm. She darted right, into thicker woods where vines tangled like snares. One caught her wrist, yanking her off balance. She tore free, skin raw, and kept running, breath coming in ragged sobs.
"Five... four..." The voice was everywhere, surrounding her. She could almost feel his breath on her neck.
"Three. Two..."
She stumbled into another thicket, branches tearing at her.
One.
Zero.
Silence fell, broken only by the rain's patter and her heaving gasps. Rey froze, back against a massive oak, chest rising and falling wildly. Mud streaked her body, panties wedged uncomfortably from the chase, thighs slick with rain and sweat. She scanned the darkness, eyes wide, every shadow a threat.
Then, a rustle—mere feet away. He emerged like a specter, mask glistening with water, those intense eyes locked on her. Taller up close, his frame broad and imposing, jacket clinging to muscled shoulders. He stepped forward slowly, deliberately, cornering her against the tree.
"Time's up, my sweet flower," he murmured, voice a low growl that vibrated through her. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip, yanking her toward him. She struggled, kicking out with her muddied foot, but he caught her ankle easily.
"You ran so beautifully," he whispered "But I always catch what's mine."
His hand clamped around her ankle like a vice, fingers digging into the delicate skin above her heel.
"No—wait!" Rey gasped, twisting to face him, but he yanked hard, flipping her onto her stomach in the muck.
She screamed, the sound raw and piercing, echoing off the trees like a wounded animal's cry.
"Let me go! Help! Somebody!" Her voice cracked, tears streaming hot down her cheeks, cutting clean paths through the grime on her face. She clawed at the ground, nails breaking as they snagged on roots and rocks, trying to anchor herself. But Ben was relentless, his boots crunching steadily as he dragged her, her body bouncing and sliding over the uneven terrain. Thorns raked her sides, drawing thin lines of blood that burned in the open air.
"Stop screaming, my sweet flower," Ben said, his tone eerily calm, almost soothing, as if consoling a frightened child. He paused for a moment to adjust his grip, switching to her other ankle when the first one bruised under his hold. Rey kicked wildly with her free leg, but he only grunted and tightened his hold, dragging her faster. Her head lolled back, hair tangling in the debris, and she sobbed harder, chest heaving with each jolt. The forest floor battered her—sharp pebbles gouging her hips, a low branch smacking her thigh hard enough to bruise.
"You don't need to be scared," he continued, voice dropping to that deep rumble that sent fresh terror spiking through her. He tugged her over a small rise, her body tumbling slightly, knees scraping raw.
"You'll live a good... full life with me. No more loneliness, no more empty nights. I'll give you every desire. I'll make you bloom like the flower you are." His words twisted like knives, laced with obsession, as if this was a promise of paradise rather than hell.
Rey thrashed, her screams turning to hoarse pleas.
"Please... it hurts! Stop!" Mud filled her mouth as she was pulled face-down through a puddle, choking her cries. She reached up, grabbing at his pant leg, but he shook her off easily, his strength unyielding. Branches whipped her back. Every inch felt like fire—her soles already blistered from the run, now her entire backside a map of abrasions and welts.
The woods thinned ahead, the sound of rain on metal growing louder. His car loomed in the distance, a black SUV half-hidden under an overhang of pines, headlights off but wipers still flicking lazily. Ben dragged her the final stretch, her body leaving a smeared trail of mud and blood. She went limp for a moment, exhaustion crashing over her, but rallied with a final, desperate wail as he hauled her to the rear door.
He released her ankle abruptly, and she curled into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapped around herself. Dirt and scratches caked between her legs. Ben knelt beside her, gloved hand stroking her hair almost tenderly.
"Shh, it's okay. We're going home now."
One gloved hand pinning her shoulder down while the other pressed the cloth firmly over her mouth and nose. The fumes invaded her lungs instantly, burning her throat as she inhaled against her will, gasping in futile resistance. Her body jerked, legs kicking weakly, but the strength drained from her limbs like water from a sieve. Her vision blurred at the edges, the masked face above her the last anchor in the swirling darkness, his deep voice murmuring,
"Sleep now, my flower. Our life begins."
Her eyes fluttered, the begging dying on her lips as unconsciousness claimed her, body slumping limp. Ben lifted her effortlessly, her head lolling back, and placed her into the trunk lined with rough blankets. The lid slammed shut with a hollow thud, sealing her away as the engine growled to life, carrying them into the night.