AN; This story is looking like it will be 30 chapters long (holy crappola), and it may not be what you think to start. I'm planning three major arcs, 10 chapters per arc; i'm excited for this one, so I hope I can pull it off as planned.

You will note that I included a Robert Frost poem at the start. This poems copyright ended in 2019 so it has been reproduced here free and clear. This poem plays heavily into the first arcs overarching idea so I will include it through those chapters.

The Darkest Evening of the Year

Ch. 1

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

By Robert Frost

Between the woods and gleaming lake lay a small house of humble design tucked back from the path. It stood in quiet repose as the sun fell and the moonless night filled the sky. The once teeming forest of summer had given way to the chill now in the air and only the sound of a crisp leaf blowing and the occasional call of the owl who hunts there could be heard.

Inside the cool, dimly lit interior belied a sense of quiet calm. Calm, like many things, can be a valuable armor to ward off the less beneficial of emotions. Panic was bedlam. Knowing it wouldn't serve her here, Rey tamped down on her growing anxiety. Instead, she found a rhythm as she put her meager possessions into the duffel. Grab, turn, place in the bag, and repeat. She would be leaving soon. She would be leaving behind this strange little town and returning to—to nowhere, but, wherever it was, it would be far away from here. This place where she could feel the eyes follow her, the whispers. This was not a normal place, and whatever freaking fucking cult bullshit that she had stumbled into was not going to take her down.

No, she did not survive 13 years in the foster care system to be dealt this blow. Common sense and her wits had kept her alive with a halfway decent life to live, and that sense was now telling her that something was very, very off. She'd never been wrong before.

Rey yanked her bag off the bathroom floor and hurried to her bedroom. She didn't bother with the light as the one from the hall bathroom lit the space sufficiently for her task. She moved to the tall dresser and began unceremoniously dumping her clothes into her bag. She would be gone before morning. She could drive down the I90 and stop by that breakfast place around mid-morning. She would be hundreds of miles away by then, and when she was sitting with a stack of pancakes and cup of coffee, she could breathe and cry and deal with whatever emotional fallout was sure to come. The first place she had felt at home and of course—of course this, and Han. Han was dead; she was sure of it.

Her hand just closed over her favorite top when the motion lights went off outside. Her bedroom window was on the side of the house, letting the motion lights from the front show through her drawn blinds.

Rey's hand froze and then twitched slightly as a chill swept down her spine. The motion light got set off often. Her backyard was the wood, and it was more often than not a squirrel, raccoon, and at least once a large black wolf whose appearance was both beautiful and unnerving. It was probably a squirrel; she leaned to her right in an attempt to peer out to the front door. Rey's solid wood front door provided no confirmation but a sense of foreboding lodged in her throat.

She stared at the door, and blood pounded in her ears in a rhythm that she could feel in her chest, her throat. The moment lingered, and no other noise could be heard. She hesitantly began to pull the top from the drawer. It made its way to her duffle by the time the sharp banging rang out like someone was hitting the door with an open palm.

Rey stilled, inhaling sharply as a numb sort of fear began to permeate. She was frozen at the entry to her small bedroom, and shadows from the house's interior cast a long ominous path to the red door that blazed unremarkably before her.

"Rey, I know you're in there!"

Ben, it was Ben. A vice was forming around her beating heart. Of course, it would be him, Ben, who was at the heart of her fear. Her tentative crush had morphed to growing suspicion, and now—now what she wouldn't give to not see his face again. She couldn't process, did not want to fathom, what had happened to Han, what she suspected Ben did.

"Rey, open up this door!" Another sharp bang to the door sounded. A breath, the rapid beat of her heart, and she still did not move. What waited for her on the other side of the door was a tall, strong, abnormally strong man who had shown interest in her and rejected her. She didn't need to be a genius to know that he was conflicted about something. She didn't want to know what he had decided, what the whole screwed-up town had decided.

"Open up this door, or I will break it down!" The door rumbled on its hinges, as he must have been shaking it by the handle.

Rey walked toward the red door, the few inches of wood that stood between her and the man on the other side. She wanted to run, to scream, to hide, but what use would that be? He would find her. She knew this. Trembling, Rey's fingers neared the brass handle.

She hesitated, but only so long to hear her name growled low. His patience had ended, and she would deny him no more. She hated drawing things out. If it was going to happen anyway—

She drew open the door with false calm, spying his balled fist, his tense arm, before raising her eyes slowly to his. She clenched her jaw to still her trembling and let out a slow breath. "Ben, what do you want?" She tried for an even tone, but despite her chilled question, she was sure he heard the tremble.

His tawny brown eyes bored into hers, and she wanted nothing more than to retreat, but she held her stance, her eyes. Slowly he raised his hands to either side of the doorframe and leaned down from his precarious height to meet her in her space.

"You're coming with me."

"No, I'm not," she nearly hissed, "I'm not going anywhere with –"

"Look at this." A voice broke the tension from behind her, causing Rey to jump towards her tall tormentor, who wasted no time in wrapping a large hand around her forearm, bringing her up in front of him.

A dark figure emerged into the light, in his grip, Rey's black bag. "Looks like someone was planning on a trip."

Vicrul. He always struck Rey as being traditionally handsome, but something so dead behind his eyes transformed his features. There was something there, something she had always seen, even from their first introduction, that told her to never fully trust him, despite his charm, despite his relationship to Ben, with whom she had grown close.

Vicrul dropped the bag to the ground without ceremony. "Not tonight, baby girl."

"Enough." Ben chided. "Rey," he directed his attention to her once more, "we're going." He reached for the coat rack beside her door and took her red zip-up roughly. "Put this on." He took hold of her arm and forced it into the sleeve before releasing his grip on her arm long enough to pull the other into the fabric. Rey remained resistant but compliant. It was only when Ben latched her zipper and jerked it up that her eyes found him again.

"I don't want this," she nearly whispered. Ben's mouth tightened slightly, but she could make out neither mercy nor venom in his face. He appeared impassive. Rey's heart twisted.

"You're going to walk to the truck and do as I say." His hand returned, warm and tight on her upper arm. She was then marched from the house and across her dirt driveway to the suped-up black truck left running down the end of her driveway. A second truck was parked to the side of the road, and she could now make out two more bodies standing out near the road. Ben had brought nearly his whole crew tonight. Should she feel flattered that four grown men were needed for this, whatever this was?

Their feet crunched along the gravel as they neared the truck. Rey was quiet, but her mind was working through each option. She could attempt to grab the wheel and hit the gas before Ben was entirely in the truck. Presumably, he would have her get in first, but she would only have seconds to get behind the wheel, put it in reverse, and hit the gas. If she could dislodge him from her arm, but how could she— Fate intervened, and Ben had turned back to yell to Vicrul, but the two began to argue briefly about something someone said to do in her house. She wasn't paying attention because this was it. As Ben turned to confront Vicrul with rancor in his voice, Rey brought her elbow back, of her free arm, with great and vicious force. It struck his nose and had enough power to toss his head back, but Rey was not so stupid to think that this blow would have the ability to stun him for more than a second or two.

She wrenched her other arm free and bolted off to the side of the driveway into the woods.