Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moonlight vanished behind the tree cover, barely allowing her to weave her way through the maze of trees and bushes. It occurred to her that there would be other wolves hidden in the veil of darkness, looking for a meal in the form of a lost, bleeding human. The sharp rustling behind her told her that the beast was still chasing her and that was all the motivation she needed to ignore her exhausting body and keep running. 

“Gah!” Rey cried, the pain shooting up her torso. 

The muscles in her abdomen screamed and contracted in pain, her lungs burning as her lungs writhed from the scattered amounts of oxygen. The dried saliva scraped her throat. 

She’d always been a fast runner. Her whole life, she had to run to save herself: whether it was escaping Plutt’s angry fist, dodging a cave-in, stealing a protein bar because she’d gone three days without food. She’d always run, and she’d always escaped. 

Maker be damned if she was going to stop running now. 

Yet a part of her knew that she wouldn’t be able to outrun the beast. 

The apparition of silence was shattered by another soul-crushing howl. It reverberated around in her ears like a gong. Rey didn’t dare think about what it was doing. 

Perhaps alerting the rest of his friends that he was bringing them dinner. 

Or a quick snack to split. Rey was all lithe, skin and bones and she didn’t have much meat to her anyway. Frankly the wolf was wasting its efforts. 

Part of her wanted to stop running. There was no point, there was a bleak outcome for her either way. She was going to die, in the forest, in the middle of the night. No one was going to know what happened to her. Wolves would feed on her for days and there would be nothing left to find. 

Is that what her life mounted to? Being hunted down by a bloodthirsty wolf at night in the woods? 

Rey grit her teeth to swallow the pain and clutched her bleeding shoulder. The blood perusing from the wound carved by razor teeth ran down the length of her arm and onto her shaking hand. The knife was still there. How she wished she had tried to cut even harder across its face. She had barely injured it. 

Another yowl triggered the small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. The beast was gaining on her. She could hear its massive paws slamming into the dirt as it pursued her. Her pulse quickened as she pushed her aching legs even harder. When the promising glow of moonlight caught her eye up ahead, she briefly rejoiced, hoping that she would be granted somewhere to hide. 

“Help!” she screamed again, as she practically flew through the bushes.

She ran, she ran, tripping over unseen trees roots and rocks hidden under the blanket of fall leaves, fire shooting up her torso from a claw wound, 

It was quiet, she backed away, eyes desperately searching for the monster. 

Then she saw them. 

The two gold rings. She knew those well. 

They belonged to her monster. 

And then the monster pounced from the darkness as she let out a blood-curdling scream.  

🌕

Fresh, pure sunlight pours through dust-stained windows of Rey’s bedroom. She straightens on her mattress and blinks, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. 

Another night, another tormented dream, sleep lost, grappling with a monster that isn’t real. Rey grunts in irritation, cursing as she kicks the blanket away and rolls out of bed. Somehow she feels even more tired after enduring another sleepless night of tossing and turning. Threaded in that nightmare was an old memory from Jakku, random, of her fighting off Teedo and his gang of scavengers for her day’s profits. The bastards walked away with half, not all, which was why Rey didn’t eat that night. 

The clock on the nightstand reads ten standard hours. Lovely, she overslept; thank Maker it’s her one day off. Rest days are also a new concept to Rey because it’s a foreign feeling to not have to work. For a month and a half she tried to do it anyway, but Maz, her guardian and employer, started to lock up the workshop so Rey couldn’t work overtime. 

“You need to kick back a little, Rey,” she’d said. “Work yourself too hard and you’ll keel over in a ditch somewhere.”

Rey’s pretty sure that happened once or twice in Jakku. But it’s not like it killed her. She’s still alive, right?

“By some miracle,” Maz replied with a shake of her head when Rey said as much. Somehow the wizened old woman had eyes in the back of her head because when Rey rolled hers a second later, Maz advised her not to roll them too much or they’d fall out. 

Rey gets out of bed, runs a hot soapy rag over her face, brushes her long hair that she stopped cutting a while back, it’s too cold to wear it too short. She experimentally opens the window and frosty air blows inside, causing her to shiver. So she chooses a pair of jeans, a warm sweater and her usual flannel jacket. For kickers she pulls a giant beanie she picked off Maz a few weeks ago. 

She has things to do before she makes an important stop this afternoon. 

Rey packs her small canvas with ration packs, water bottles, and the knife. She takes it with her every day for safety. She doesn’t trust handguns, and Alaska doesn’t allow unlicensed firearms or concealed carry, so she can’t exactly lug a hunting rifle on her back as she goes about her day. That’s bound to raise some eyebrows. Plus she tends to commandeer Maz’s license to carry whenever it’s convenient. 

Her first destination is Raddus Hardware down the street because she needs a spare part for Ol’ Snap’s generator. She works there on weekends because Maz refuses to let her have a six-day schedule. A large hairy man who is almost certainly part lycan owns the place, named Gial Ackbar. He’s a good acquaintance of Maz’s but he typically has no love for humans. Especially scrappy little humans like Rey. 

It rained the night before so there’s giant puddles of mud and slush along the two-lane road. Rey avoids getting slashed by trucks speeding well over the nonexistent limit as she walks the three quarter mile trek into town. 

Juneau isn’t a large city, compact, sitting south at the base of a mountain range running west, halfway along the Gastineau Channel. Most people like Rey live outside the city, away from the harsher impositions of martial—and werewolf—law. 

She knows the rules. Never be in the city after nineteen standard hours, certainly never be in the dark alone, always avoid eye contact with the guards that are camouflaged in with the general populace. And above all, stay the hell away from the administrative district. 

It’s a pleasant city, secure and peaceful, if you have canine teeth and talons. If you don’t… Rey shakes her head as she ignores a roar of catcalls coming from the men across the street. She hasn’t gotten the scrunched nose or the warning from a guard, like they need reminders to behave like animals — like humans are the animals. 

It’s less than ideal. But it’s better than where she came from. 

Rey sidles past a man on the sidewalk and he huffs in disgust, muttering in Latin like she can’t understand him. The animosity towards humans is painstaking in the city and if you can’t navigate it, you’re screwed. 

Her point is made as she crosses the street and a truckload full of teenage werewolves spot her. They smell like pine, sweat and fresh kill and it makes her recoil. 

“Hey, vulpes!” One of them calls out, calling her little vixen in Latin, “ Quid est pulchellus puellam sicut hic agis? ”

They all collectively snort. It’s merely an example of petty humiliation, Rey knows. Luckily Maz taught her a thing or two when she moved here. She knows she shouldn’t engage but she does anyway. 

“ Malleum emo et laqueum ursae.” It’s not true but it should be enough to shut them up. It always does. 

One with light hair and wolfish eyes lets out a snort. “ Parum humanum sicut te ipsum non debet esse circa instrumenta hominis .”

They laugh again. There it is. The part of werewolf culture she despises the most. 

Caveman-level misogyny. Wolves up here truly act as animal as they are. 

Rey opens her mouth to hurl a comeback, but when a large officer across the street makes eye contact with her, menacing with a furry hand on a baton, she ducks and speeds away. 

Those boys wouldn’t have touched her, it’s illegal, intimate relations between humans and werewolves. But that doesn’t mean they can’t sink their claws in some other way. 

Ackbar’s shop sits with the rest of the utility stores on the main street. She passes a little boy on the sidewalk; he looks tired and disheveled as he clutches a very wrinkled paper bag in his hands. Rey sniffs and smells what she prays isn’t rotting meat. 

The bell over the door rings loudly to alert the other customers of her presence. Like usual, it’s all men, three weres and a human who’s clearly doing his best to not be noticed, with the way he’s retreated far into his hooded coat. Plus Ackbar, merrily chatting up the bald man in Latin. His dark eyes land on Rey and he grunts, the light mood gone. 

“Rey,” he says tersely. The man he’s speaking with turns around and spots her; he makes a face and gestures at her in disgust. He’s speaking in Old Latin but she can guess what he’s saying. 

Ackbar gives the bald man a look and hisses something into his ear; the look of hostility drops from the other man as he regards Rey with indifference. The closest she’ll ever get to politeness.  

“Maz told me you’d be stopping by today,” Ackbar remarks, giving her a once-over. He’s a former war veteran, well over six feet, set with the telltale physique of a werewolf—big and muscular. He has dark eyes, no hair, with a very deep complexion that matches dark oak. 

“I need a voltage regulator, up front.” Rey digs into her bag to pull out the money Maz gave her to spend. 

Ackbar grunts again and peels himself off the counter. “Alright, let me see what I’ve got.” 

While Rey waits, she makes a show of looking around the shop. She can’t invite conversation, it’s never a good idea, so she just waits and prays that no one will come up to her. 

Four long minutes later, she feels a hand on her shoulder and she jumps in shock, fingers searching for the knife that’s in her backpack. 

“Hey!” she snaps defensively. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The boy—no, a man, she thinks. He has dark skin, almost as dark as Ackbar’s, shaved hair and brown eyes. He looks about her age but his eyes seem ancient, like they’ve seen through a thousand lifetimes. 

“What do you want?” Rey eyes him suspiciously; he smells like a were but the fact that he didn’t speak in Latin, plus he sought her attention, is surprising.

“Do you by chance know where I can find Maz Kanata?” he asks, keeping his voice low. 

Rey pauses; if this man means trouble, she doesn’t want him anywhere near. He looks friendly enough but she knows better than anyone how looks can be deceiving, sometimes fatally so. So she crosses her arms. 

“No, I don’t,” she says coolly. 

To her surprise, he sighs resignedly and looks at the floor like a kicked puppy, completely opposite as to how she expected he’d react. 

“Okay. Thanks anyway.”

He pulls his hood down and leaves, leaving a stunned Rey at the counter. What the hell? He’s just giving up like that?

Some lycan, she thinks with shock. 

Ackbar emerges from the backroom with a voltage regulator not two seconds later. But she barely pays attention to the price or him telling her to watch her back, citing the dangers as usual, as well as something else. She doesn’t hear. She’s too preoccupied with the boy, who has now migrated over to the employee room in the back. She watches him open the door and slide in. 

“Bye, Mr. Ackbar,” Rey calls over her shoulder.  

“Remember what I said!” he calls back. 

Except Rey doesn’t know what he said at all. But she puts it out of her mind as she heads down to Takodana Pub. 

Chapter Text

It’s a ten minute walk to Maz’s restaurant from the shop. Rey cuts through side streets and alleyways to avoid the patrols and searing gazes of crawlers as she makes her way down to the water. 

Takodana Pub sits right on the channel near the harbor. The whole place reeks of fish and oil to the point where it permeates your clothes and requires two days’ worth of washing to get out. Rey makes her way across the rickety and unstable docks that have rotted away and could give out at any second. There’s canoes and fishing boats tied loosely along wooden posts and gruntled fishermen disembark their boats with today’s benefits — barrels full of fish and crab. 

Most fishermen are humans; wolves prefer the raw, fresh meat of the forest. Humans aren’t allowed to hunt; it’s considered property theft and trespassing on pack territory. It’s also a federal offense punishable by public execution — hanging. Or decapitation, depending on the executioner’s mood that day. 

Doesn’t stop humans from keeping guns in their homes. There’s no law saying you can’t, and if a grizzly bear wanders into your house, well, you’re going to want a good weapon. 

While she’s walking, Rey’s very aware of the scent of lycan very strong in the air… it’s like werewolves wear this natural perfume that helps distinguish them from humans. Usually it’s potent, but now it’s overpowering. Like it’s been magnified by three times.  

As Rey makes her way to the front, she comes across two women loading a crap load of barrels into the back of a pickup. One is about 5’2, has a sharp chin, tanned complexion and dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Rose Tico. The other is a taller, skinnier blonde with solemn blue eyes and hair pulled into two buns on the side of her head. Kaydel Ko Connix-Tico. 

“Hey Rey!” Rose catches sight of her and waves. 

Rey waves back with a small smile. “Hey Rose, Kaydel.” She sees them every once in a while when she comes into town. She doesn’t know much about them, other than that they’re in a relationship of sorts, partners, if you will, and they’re a subject of scrutiny across town. And not just because Rose is a werewolf and Kaydel is not.

They’re both women. 

“Is Maz in?”

Rose nods. “You know it. And the flyboy’s with her, too. Tread carefully.”

“Flyboy” is the nickname Maz calls navy pilot and sailor Poe Dameron. He’s a human with an ego the size of the Pacific and the suave to match. With his tan skin, stubble, head of dark curls and charming smile, he’s every girl’s dream. Or so he thinks. Rey doesn’t like him that much, mostly because when he’s not going on about some dangerous rubbish involving a “Resistance” of sorts, he’s trying to hit on her. And fails every time. 

Rey thanks them before going in.  

She’s assaulted by the smell of beer, gin, and fried fish all at once the second she opens the door. And it only makes her stomach growl ravenously. Folks from everywhere are in, even though it’s only noon, the bar is full. When men aren’t out chopping wood and fucking their wives —if they have one — silly into the mattress, they’re in Maz’ bar drinking their resentment and sorrows down. 

It’s not like they can do anything else when they’re not at the factory or the sweatshop bent over a workstation. 

Rey slides past the bouncer — a giant guy named Korso who’s often mistaken for a lycan — and heads towards the back where the kitchen door is to wait for Maz. 

Five minutes go by before the diminutive figure of Maz Kanata wearing a large wool hat, leather vest and goggles that make her eyes look impossibly big walks out with a tray of drinks in hand. When she catches sight of Rey, her face breaks out into a thousand wrinkles.

“Ah, Rey.” The almost-eight-hundred-year-old woman deposits the drinks by a group of smelly men at the bar. “Figured you would stop by. Come from Ackbar’s?”

Rey nods with a rueful smile. “You know it. I’m stopping by Ol’ Snap’s to fix his generator.”

“Alright. Well, your meal is in the back. I know you haven’t eaten anything.” Maz gives Rey a customary once-over before nodding. When Rey first showed up at the woman’s door after suffering three days in the hold of a cargo ship, Maz refused to talk business until she had a belly full of venison and beets. “Before you head out, I need to have a quick word with you.”

She looks so serious that it gives Rey pause, but she ignores it and goes to the kitchen. She smells fried fish and tartar sauce and her mouth salivates. 

Rey retreats to the corner to eat her meal in silence. Unfortunately her attempt not to be noticed is thwarted by a painfully familiar face striding up to her. 

“Hey, Rey-Rey.”

Poe Dameron. Alaska’s biggest narcissist and self-proclaimed best pilot across three continents. He’s well over thirty with a patriotic spirit and history in the American naval force, so it’s no surprise that in light of America’s collapse into anarchy that he’s still putting his skills to the test. With a mouth full of fries, Rey turns to see a playfully mischievous smile looking right at her. 

“Poe.”

“It’s been too long.”

“Not nearly long enough,” Rey mutters wryly around a mouth full of fish. He laughs her off, like usual, slapping his hand on the table and sliding into the booth without an invite. If Rey didn’t know that none of his intentions are evil, she would have sliced his face in half a while ago. 

“Looks like I caught you on a good day,” Poe observes, still grinning. 

“How so?”

“You haven’t threatened to stab me with a fork like you did last week.” 

She grips the utensil in question just to be petty, waving it around in his face with disinterested eyes. “You want to test that fact?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, just making an observation.” 

“What are you doing here, Poe? Last I heard you were flying across the southwestern Pacific on an American supply run.”

“Had to take a detour on my way to Malaysia. Thought I’d stop by my old town for a quick hello.”

Rey furrows her brow. As far as she knows, Poe usually flies routes taking supplies from eastern overseas back to the States and across North America. Supply chains from sympathetic or loyal countries are lacking these days, the giant oceans being perfect borders to keep the Western hemisphere away. 

When the virus snuck through the border patrols and into eastern Canada and Mexico, it didn’t take long for Central America to lose themselves. Nobody’s willing to offer too much help and if they are, it’s strained. And even so the supplies are never arriving in the states that are most desperate, the West where Rey comes from, where lawlessness is rampant and humans outnumber wolves. 

If they do arrive, they’re usually attacked by bandits or looters, or the werewolves get to them first. Poe’s job is to help distribute resources to states like Jakku and Tatooine safely, which is hard, but he somehow gets it done, and for that, Rey respects him. 

“So you’re not staying long.”

“Nope.” Poe pops the “p” loudly as he chews his gum. “Can’t. Have to get out of here quick before the night-walkers catch wind of what’s in my cargo hold.”

Night-walkers being the term for werewolves up in Alaska. According to Maz, that’s been the name for them for centuries and it has a bit of historical significance that Rey can’t remember off the top of her head.

But also because unlike the scientifically-mutated abominations in the States, where they literally crawl around cities and deserts trying to feed on humans or themselves, Alaskan wolves are typically less volatile. And their instincts don’t deviate from their canine ancestors from millions of years ago. They see you, they won’t immediately start chasing after you for a one course meal.

Rey thinks on the pilot’s words for a moment. Poe tries to keep it under wraps, but it’s obvious that the cargo he’s transporting isn’t always of the humanitarian variety. Rey heard Maz discussing how Poe sometimes sneaks guns and ammunition into the shipments. Where he takes them, no one knows, but Rey hopes to the Maker that he’s not so stupid as to arm random citizens in the middle of a virus outbreak — which, as she’s heard from sailors and pilots, has ravaged all of North America and into Brazil by now. 

“Besides, it’s also that time of year.” Poe looks around anxiously like he’s looking for someone with an AK-47 to appear. His gaze lands on a group of lycans sitting at the bar talking in grumbles. “I don’t want to stick around when the Summit takes place. That’s when the harbors and air strips will be locked down.”

“Summit?” Rey repeats, confused. 

Poe stares at her a moment, apparently deciding if she’s being serious, before sitting back. “Oh that’s right, you’re new to town,” he muses, while Rey silently praises the Maker.

Rey came in the middle of summer, right when it was warm and didn’t exceed fifty degrees, which was a spectacular event in itself. Her lie that she originally lived in Fairbanks is still safely intact and she intends to keep it that way for as long as possible. 

The Cuban-Guatemalan pilot plants his hands on the table before cocking his head, swirling his drink in the glass. “This time of year, the werewolf packs of the state congregate here in the capital. It’s a huge national event.”

Rey doesn’t miss the disgust on his face, nor the small tinge of fear in his voice. “What happens?”

“They come together to determine the Supreme Leader, who basically dictates all of pack law. We’d call it a president. The whole thing lasts a week, it’s an old tradition, going back centuries.” Poe clicks his tongue. “Humans are, of course, highly encouraged to stay away. And that’s with good reason.” There’s a haunted look in his eyes that sends a shiver down Rey’s spine. 

“Will all the werewolves be here?” According to Rose, there are over five hundred different packs in Alaska. That implication makes it seem like Juneau will be subjected to an influx of visitors it cannot withstand. 

“No. For the last six years, only thirty packs have participated in the Summit.” Poe shakes his head.

“What goes on? How does it go?” Rey can’t help but be curious. Throughout her time here, she’s never heard anyone mention a Summit. If it has something to do with the traditional werewolf culture that still shapes all of the Alaskan government, she likely should have heard of it by now, yes? 

Poe’s cryptic behavior has piqued her interest, a dangerous thing, after all curiosity killed the cat. 

But everyone knows satisfaction brought it back. 

“It's a wolf affair. We humans don’t get involved, and why would we? We have enough sense not to fight in a dirt pit like cavemen.” Poe suddenly sounds both resentful and tired, an oddly disturbed look in his normally suave eyes. “What happens is what happens anytime crawlers get involved: they act like mindless beasts. They go into the forest and don’t come back out until they have a new leader or the current one keeps his position. Personally I don’t know why they even keep holding this event; the Supreme Pack Leader has been the same for longer than I’ve been alive.”

He shakes his head, as if trying to clear the unpleasant thoughts from his brain. 

“You wanna know more, ask Maz.” Poe jerks his head in the direction of the old woman, who’s chastising a man who’s a comical two feet taller than her. Rey bites back an amused smile as the unpleasant-smelling man who now looks like the kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

Rey nods as she licks fish grease off her fingers. “Alright.”

“Yeah. Until next time, Rey. Stay careful.” Poe holds her gaze for a few moments more before getting up. Rey watches him leave through the swinging doors, deep in thought about what he said. Summit? She thinks about what he explained, a Supreme Leader? Congregation? From the rumors she’s heard from fishermen and local woodsmen, it sounds like a huge event, but hardly anyone speaks about it. And the veil of secrecy surrounding it makes it all more mysterious. 

Twenty minutes later, Rey’s about to slide out when Maz calls out to her from the other end of the pub. 

“Trying to sneak out without saying a goodbye?”

Leave it to Maz to make you feel like you upset the Virgin Mary herself. Heat flushes to Rey’s cheeks as she slowly turns, not at all surprised to see the centuries-year-old woman marching over with a speed wholly impossible for someone of her age. 

“No.”

“Good. I’ve been teaching you better manners than that.” Maz gives Rey a poke on the arm, and to her credit, she doesn’t flinch. That’s progress. 

“I’m just headed to Snap’s before it gets late.”

“Yeah I know. Listen up.” Maz gestures for Rey to come closer and the young woman bends down so they’re eye level. “Keep your eyes open and when you stop by the shop for your tools, take my shotgun.”

Well that’s new. Maz never ever lets anyone touch her guns. In fact she slapped a dude for getting too close to one of the ones she keeps on display because it’s a rare three-century old antique from Siberia.

“Why?” Rey never has to take a weapon; Snap provides one for her. 

“A story I will tell you later.” Maz’s eyes are dark and serious. “Just mind yourself, alright?” 

The question comes out before she can think better of it. “Does this have something to do with the Summit?” 

“Poe ran his mouth, did he?” There’s no disbelief in Maz’s voice, only nonchalance. “Figures. Alright. When you get home tonight, we’ll have our talk.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be home,” Rey protests as Maz begins to walk away. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll meet you there.”

🌔

Rey thinks hard on Poe’s words as she speed-walks back through the city towards her home and Maz’s shop. Ol’ Snap’s house is a quarter mile away from the main city but she usually takes the truck for her equipment, and she’s in no mood to lug around a toolbox as well as a shotgun and a voltage regulator in her tiny drawstring bag. 

The Summit. The event sounds intriguing, Rey thinks but it’s not nearly enough to convince her to investigate further. There’s probably a good reason no one talks about it; had she been thirteen, perhaps she would have investigated, but she isn’t anymore. She promised herself years ago to put as much distance from herself and werewolves as possible; Kira’s death still haunts her at night whenever she finds herself face-to-face with those beasts, itching for a fight, wishing for a minute she could put any of them in her place, make them pay for their unjust cruelty. 

But she can’t, if she wants to stay intact. You offend a wolf, you pay with a limb. 

She can’t even list the number of times she’s catered to Maz’s customers and many of them are missing an arm, leg, tongue, or ears even. Or a combination of nonexistent limbs. Hardly anyone comes out from The Cells whole, and the ones who are let go are marked by a brand on their chests, a nasty scar inflicted by, to no one’s surprise, wolf claws. 

Rey rotates her head and sees the administrative buildings to the right, they’re gleaming against the pure sunlight and she catches the glare of the sun in her eyes. It is beautiful, it truly is, especially when it’s fall and the sunlight casts a warm glow on the rose, orange, golden colors of the trees, until Rey remembers how the aesthetic appeal only hides the misery of the people who surrounded it. The administrative district is a bubble that doesn’t even stretch four blocks. Barbed wire and armed guards keep everyone who isn’t allowed in out. The ones who try to get in are made an example of. 

That’s why humans never leave the outer and mid rims of the city. It’s asking for trouble.

A few months back, there was an incident, a “disagreement” between a group of humans and lycans, that ended in disaster. Rey doesn’t know all of the details but she knows it ended with a lycan dead; she heard it from one of the patrons in Takodana Pub on her work shift. She went to the market not the day after and saw the corpses of three boys, maybe her age or even younger, dangling from pikes on the wall with ropes around their necks. Their shirts had been removed to reveal the lacerations, bites and claw marks shredding across their torsos. It was truly a gruesome sight and it made some young kids walking by take off down the street screaming. 

The teenage boys had literally been fed to the wolves and then hung like puppets. Almost to show, “ Stay in line, or this will happen to you.”

The one girl who was involved in the incident wasn’t hanged; nobody knew what happened to her. According to witnesses, she was tranq’d and thrown in the back of a van that drove off towards the administrative district. Everyone had their own theories, some more widespread than others, but it was horrid to even think about. 

Rey had an idea of what happened to the girl. And it made her sick to her stomach. 

Those beasts really were animals if they believed they had the right to do something as horrible as that, on a group of teenagers.  

When Rey passes the administrative wall, she sees no bodies. She also doesn’t smell any chemicals, animal rot, or decay. Occasionally those odors make their way over the wall and settle down in a cloud over the city, stinking the fresh Alaskan air, once every couple of months. The last one was in July, and it was utterly putrid, smelling just like burning flesh. 

Old folks refer to those hazes as “Testing smog,” in reference to the experimentation everyone suspects is taking place out of sight and underneath the streets. Rey once asked Maz if she thinks that the government is testing the virus strain that’s causing the mutations in the US; it’s not unfathomable, even though Alaska has secessed from it. It’s only rumors, Rey muses, it’s probably not true. 

She desperately hopes it’s not. 

🌔

Rey pulls up in front of Ol’ Snap’s house having cleared her thoughts, Poe’s words now reduced to a low buzz at the back of her mind. It’s mid-afternoon and by now the sun has been blocked by a few low-lying clouds rolling in from the northeastern mountains. The crispness of the air never ceases to catch her by surprise, even after more than four months, and she inhales deeply. 

It’s almost surreal. 

A quick look up at the log cabin confirms that he’s home, as smoke rises eerily from the chimney. She sniffs. Smells like sizzling meat, which is expected; Ol’ Snap eats sixty-five percent meat, thirty-five percent everything else. Getting this job done should be a piece of cake. 

Except when she opens the driver’s side passenger door, metal comes flying out as the entire box tips over with a loud crash. 

“Maker damnit!” she curses loudly. She should’ve checked to make sure it was secured. 

Just her luck. 

Annoyed, Rey bends over to pick up the tools, one by one shoving them back inside the box. She’ll figure out how to fit them all together properly later. By the time they’ll all haphazardly propped inside, she’s killed the truck engine and slung the shotgun over her shoulder. It’s much heavier than she expects and briefly she wonders how the hell a midget like Maz can lug this thing around, when it’s twice her size. 

But then she remembers… It's Maz. Lots of things about her don’t make any sense. 

By the time Rey has regained her bearings, gathered her tools and gotten the generator out of its crude packaging, she’s ready to go in. Down the bend in the road, she hears the low whir of a car speeding towards her, and she turns, catching a glimpse of a very sleek black Ford coming from the distance. The windows are tinted, but she recognizes the craftsmanship, it’s far more expensive than any vehicle she’s seen in these parts. 

She pays it no mind, hefting her toolbox and the generator up the gravel path to Ol’ Snap’s front door. Per his request, she knocks using their special code, and she waits; he usually takes a few moments to stop whatever he’s doing, but a slow movement lurking outside her periphery catches her eye. 

The Ford has slowed down on the other side of the street, close to a stop. The driver side and passenger window are partly ajar, she can’t see inside. But she sniffs, the air is suddenly clouded and there’s a tang of something very unpleasant. She squints. What the hell?

Ol’ Snap comes out a moment later, eyes wide and haggard. 

“Hey, I’m here to replace your—”

“Get in the house!” he all but snaps in an uncharacteristic baritone, and she hears the deep level of alarm in his voice. Rey lets out a yelp as he grabs her by the arm and shoves her across the threshold, and she nearly crashes into one of the support beams. 

“What the hell?”

Ol’ Snap’s still leaning out the door, a hand on the pistol in his back pocket that Rey didn’t notice until now. There’s the sound of what she thinks are snapping bones, and her eyes widen in shock and horror as she observes brown fur appear on the back of Snap’s hands, claws growing from the base of his human fingernails. She’s never seen a lycan transformation, and she’s not sure she wants to; she’s heard it can be a very gruesome sight. Her heart starts to thud violently in her chest as she waits, quickly scanning the room for escape routes on the off chance something goes wrong. 

Snap grunts out an expletive, which tells Rey he’s cooling off. But her hand idly taps the hilt of her dagger on the off chance she has to deal with a pissed-off werewolf. She really doesn’t want to have to explain to authorities that she shot someone in their own house; self defense is a bogus excuse. 

Another moment passes before Snap grunts heavily and shuts the door with a slam. He mutters something in Latin under his breath as he runs his fingers through his thinning hair. 

“Sir,” Rey asks, suddenly very glad she has Maz’s shotgun, “are you alright?” 

It takes Snap a second to reply. “Yes, yes, some old friends of mine are in town.”

“Not good friends, I presume?” Rey didn’t miss that odd glint of animosity on his face. 

“Far from it.” Snap puts his hands on his hips and observes her for a moment. “Maz gave you one of her guns? Good. Head out back, do what you gotta do, and keep your eyes peeled.” 

Rey goes out the back door with the shotgun tucked under her arm. The property field spanning into the forest is overgrown with tall grass and weeds, marked by a collapsing fence. 

She gets to work. Every hair on her neck continues to stand by the second and it’s only by the skin of her teeth that she hasn’t jumped back into the pickup truck and gone back to the safety of Maz’s shop. 

Installing the regulator is easy; getting the old one out is the problem, especially since many of the nails have rusted together. Seriously, the assembly may be older than Snap is, Rey thinks, as she uses the tip of a crowbar to pry the panel loose and a layer of powdered rust falls onto her hands. She’s glad she has the extra components she purchased off of Maz’s dollar, since Snap still refuses to get a new one. 

Maybe she’ll just start replacing every part until it’s all new, she muses half humorously. 

There’s a rustle in the nearby trees that’s far too loud to be from a woodland creature. She jerks her head over her shoulder in alarm. Eyes focused and narrowed, she peers intently into the patterned landscape of brown, red, and orange. Is it a bear? She sniffs. Doesn’t smell like one—wet dog and fish. 

Except what sounds like bark snapping perks her ears, and she turns once more to the right. She may be going crazy, but she could have sworn she saw a massive hunk of black disappearing behind a fallen tree trunk not ten yards away. But it becomes so quiet Rey thinks she imagined it. 

For a split second the sunlight cutting through the canopy of trees casts a shadow on the yellow leaf under her boot. 

Chapter Text

For extra measure, Rey replaces almost if not all of the other generator components. After taking apart the ancient piece of machinery, she becomes positive that they will stop working once the cold sets in. And she has no interest in working waist-deep in a pile of frosty little crystals called snow when Snap inevitably phones Maz to complain that one of his appliances needs another replacement. Rey stands back when she’s done and observes her work for a moment, the corners of her lips quirking. 

She’d done some amateur mechanic work in Jakku, some repairs every now and then on her speeder or the water wheel, but Maz and her seemingly infinite arsenal of skills helped Rey refine her work not long after she arrived in Juneau. It was an easy way to make money that didn’t require any other form of repertoire, which Rey was grateful for. 

She doesn’t know where it came from, maybe it was an innate habit or just a passion, but Rey loves to take things apart. Careful to dissemble them piece by piece and see how they worked. A car engine. A speeder. A laptop she found in a dumpster. The complexity of a careful machine designed to carry out a function is puzzling to the human brain, which couldn’t possibly achieve the same level of achievement as refined engineering. 

If it had been another life, another time, Rey surmises that she would have done that. But she hasn’t indulged such thoughts in so long, not really, since she was fourteen. Going to school in a uniform, shoes, a bag slung over her shoulder as she walked into a classroom with a handful of other kids her age. Pens and paper ready to jot down whatever the teacher was teaching that day.

School. What a ridiculous concept. 

“Rey!”

The back door swings open violently enough to smack the wall. Through wide eyes, Ol’ Snap’s shooting her a look that would make grown men half in their tracks. But Rey just holds the stare unflinchingly. 

“I’m all done out here.” For effect she spins the hammer in a circle, which pulls a bark of laughter out of him as he slams his hand over the mesh. 

“Good. Now let me pay you so you can get out of here.” He gestures for her to come inside, which she does, but not after casting one more look at the shaded trees in the distance. There’s nothing to indicate anything’s even alive in the forest besides the birds and sounds of small, chattering wildlife. 

Perhaps her imagination and paranoia is playing a trick on her. 

“Eager to get rid of me, Snap?” Rey asks wryly as she shuts the door. 

“Nah.” Snap chugs another round of beer and wipes some drops off his beard. “You know you’re a practical one, Sola,” he replies, calling her “the lone one” in Latin. He pulled it from her chosen last name and Rey never thought to stop him. So it stuck. 

“You remind me of the sun,” he said about two days after she first repaired his heater. “Like, you are a ray of light.”  

Now he grunts appreciatively. “I don’t mind you. But it’s probably best if you get on home.” He pulls out his wallet. 

“It’s not even one in the afternoon,” Rey protests with an eyebrow raised. 

“Even so, it’s getting to that time of year, and I don’t want a little thing like you ending up in the crosshairs of some trouble.” Snap hands her some bills, well over three hundred dollars. Rey learned long ago it’s futile to argue with a lycan, even if he abandoned his form. 

“Everyone’s been saying things like that,” Rey mutters, flipping through the bills before pocketing them inside her vest. “I still don’t entirely know what all the fuss is about.”

“You don’t need to,” Snap responds curtly. He goes to help Rey take her toolbox outside like the gentleman he is, even though she insists time and time again she can handle herself. 

They briefly go back and forth as Rey loads up the truck full of Snap’s old generator parts. Unless Maz can refashion them into something, they’re en route to a trash compactor soon.

“Ever hear the old proverb, ‘curiosity killed the cat?’” Snap questions rhetorically as they conclude their fourth round. 

“Yes, but satisfaction brought it back,” Rey recites. 

“Ain’t no source of satisfaction around here,” Snap retorts, placing the toolbox in the backseat and then slamming the door shut. Rey briefly allows a bit of laughter before shaking her head.  

“Okay, Sola, say hi to Maz for me.” Snap’s gaze scans the landscape around, narrow and suspicious. “Hey, help keep my heart rate a little lower, and just lay low, okay?” He clicks the toothpick in his mouth as Rey climbs in the truck and slams the door. 

“Sure, but why?”

Snap’s eyes go strangely grim. “Better if you don’t ask too many questions, pup.” 

That instantly snaps Rey back to Corellia, New Jedha and Jakku; another couple hundred thousand images flood through her vision in the blink of an eye. She stiffens as she intakes a sharp breath, eyes shut, breaths heavy and restricted. The memory of Plutt’s blubbery face and fat finger shaking in her face comes crashing full force as she recalls the times she was told to keep her mouth shut. Stay quiet. Don’t ask. Stay safe. 

“Stay safe, Rey.” Apparently Snap can read minds, she thinks wryly. She gives him a small wave before pressing the clutch in and maneuvering the stick to gear one. Before long, she’s cruising down the smooth hill towards Maz’s shop. 

Rey keeps the window down and lets the cool wind play double dutch with her hair. 

🌔

Thwack! 

With a flair of dramatic effort, Rey pries the ax head out of the stump, violently pushing off the wood to dislodge it. She’s back to chopping; Maz won’t be home until much later so she decides to be productive. 

The muscles in her arms ache from the exertion, she’s been at this for over thirty minutes now, and it’s not until she swings hard enough to chop the stump underneath in half does she realize that she’s compensating for something else. The strips of wood are splintered and broken in a ripped picture, and she sighs heavily. 

She very clearly remembers the days where her entire body was one fit of pain. The angry blisters on her feet boiled until they became so inflamed it hurt to walk, her already walnut-sized stomach that never stopped aching. Or her sore back from bending over all day as she chiseled away at pieces of gray rock. 

Treasure inside, the younglings always said. Rey snorts. What treasure? There was hardly any to be found, and if it was, it was barely worth a penny and a ration to sell. All she wanted to do was go into her trailer, eat as many rations as she desired, and go to sleep, dreaming of a night sky with the silver moonlight shining down on her. The silver was safe. 

She wasn’t haunted in her dreams by rings of glowing gold and a voice promising to come for her; she still doesn’t know what it means, if she should run. That’s always the instinct, when a monster cloaked in darkness whose face she still doesn’t know is playing the game of Hunter and Prey. Run as far away as she can to hide. That’s how she got out of Jakku and New Jedha in one piece. 

Rey wipes an inexplicable bead of sweat from her face and gets up again from the crate she’d been sitting on. 

A breath of oddly cold air sweeps down from above, spiking the goosebumps on her semi-bare arms. Rey shivers and goes to retrieve her jacket. As she slides it on, the sound of an entire tree snapping sets her spine rigid again. What the hell? Rey hefts the ax into her hands and disregards it, refusing to let her anxieties get to her again.  

She’s just tired. She just needs to find a way to get more sleep. Yes, that’s what it is. 

Then suddenly her vision tunnels sharply. The corners of her eyes burn like fire and she squeezes them shut to relieve the pain. Rey hopes it’s not the beginnings of those migraines that like to sneak up on her these last few weeks as she prepares the next log for chopping.

It hits her square in the head. 

“Ah!”

She’s not in the yard anymore. She’s in a dark room, surrounded by solid walls of concrete and stone, a single bulb of light dangling in a void some hundred feet over her head. Her breath chokes in her throat as she gropes around for a doorknob against the hard panels of the walls, and her childhood claustrophobia kicks in violently. 

Her breaths are rapid and slow and she feels her throat constricting as she grabs at her shirt. ‘What is happening to me? What is happening to me?’ she thinks desperately. 

Cold air hits Rey’s face, and she turns around with fading vision to see a pair of rings glowing in the darkness. But they’re not gold anymore. They’re a soft hazel, appraising and sensitive, more human. 

As quickly as it appears, it’s gone. She’s back in the chop yard with an ax lying by her work boots. 

But then the hair on the back of her neck stands up again, warning her of an impending danger. Rey turns towards the road to see another pickup idling outside, thick black smoke puffing out of an exhaust pipe that’s rusted over This is one of the moments she curses her sensitive sense of smell, as the combined stink of charcoal, sweat, gasoline and testosterone makes her want to hurl her insides out in the dirt ground. 

Except the pungency of the haze tells her there’s werewolves approaching. Fuck. Rey grits her teeth and goes to meet them since Maz isn’t here. If they want to cause trouble, she won’t let them do it lying down. 

Rey strides through the back door with her fists clenched at her sides, shoulders back, chest out. When dealing with werewolves, you cannot, under any circumstances, show fear. They feed off of that weakness like leeches and spit it in your face. You can’t act like you’re challenging them, but you cannot be a pushover if you want them to even consider taking you seriously. And Rey knows she’s at the complete disadvantage here… she’s a human, a girl, and a nobody. 

Still, she taps the hilt of her dagger for comfort as she enters the main room of the shop, and she’s immediately overpowered by the smell of wild dog. 

There’s three werewolves in the room with her, and they’re all the size of army tanks. Well over six feet tall, built around solid muscle and pure male hormones. Their clothes are dull colors, grays and blacks, but simple with combat boots, pants and jackets. Rey takes a quick look and determines that she’d need probably close to 500 milligrams of diazepam to knock them out. The shotgun itself would probably splinter over their heads. 

Rey has seen some big wolves in her time, but usually they’re not this giant. It’s as if someone gave these guys a giant steroid shot and watched where it took them. They can probably give God Thor himself a run for his money. 

The one who’s in charge, the epitome of masculinity if she’s ever seen it, turns a metallic eye on her and she watches the disgust flash through him. He’s not very pleasant looking, with dark straggly hair that likely hasn’t known soap before and a scar slicing his left eye shut. 

He gestures to her and starts talking rapidly to his friends, who seem to take her in for the first time. It takes her a few moments to realize they’re speaking in Old Latin, the native language of werewolves. According to Rose, lycans are notorious sticklers for tradition and most of the time it’s easy to tell where a pack’s from based on their accent and dialect. 

Rey can’t understand them completely but she can make out a few words, particularly the slurs cornosus, puella, child, among other things, as they smirk and laugh at their own jokes. She decides to humor them and let them believe she doesn’t know they’re insulting her before speaking. 

“Utile esset, si te iuvare scirem,” Rey says smoothly in broken Latin, carefully inserting a moderate level of submission into her voice. Play the damsel, get what you want, she has learned. 

The minor look of shock on the blond man’s face is enough to send a delicious thrill through her. 

“Ubi est dominus domus?” The dark-haired once demands. “ Dux noster nuntium mittit ad eum.”

“The mistress of this house, Maz Kanata, is not here,” Rey replies nonchalantly. “I can relay the message for you if you wish.” 

The smaller one of the three scoffs, and voices his incredulity on the matter, and Rey knows instantly that she crossed one of the many lines dictating female capacity in werewolf minds. The long-haired werewolf narrows predatory eyes on her and steps forward into her personal space. Rey doesn’t flinch. 

“The matters of the pack are no concern of yours, little human,” he sneers. “Mind your own business, and stay silent.”

“Ut vis,” Rey replies, barely keeping the smirk off her face. The werewolf encroaches her personal space even more, puffing out his chest in an attempt to intimidate her, but she doesn’t even move. She only cranes her neck back somewhat as he obviously towers over her, but there’s not a flicker of fear in her eyes. 

“Similis hic canis parvus eget ut aliquid de respectu discat,” the blonde growls, and Rey watches the flesh on his fingers slowly transform into sandy gold fur and iron talons that can cut through her flesh like a hot knife through butter. Her breath catches in her throat as she takes a step back, her right hand reaching for the dagger. 

The one-eyed wolf switches to gruff English and goes to wrap a meaty hand around her arm. She scuffles backwards and whips the dagger out. 

“Back off,” Rey snaps. 

That rouses a collective amount of scoffs as the level of threat thickens the shop. The three men advance on her with menacing eyes, promising all kinds of malicious intent. Rey subtly steps backwards but musters her courage; she aims the blade right at their faces. 

One werewolf visibly pales while the other’s eyes go wider than expected; their scents suddenly cloud over with trepidation and shock. The one-eyed lycan bares sharp canines but doesn’t come any closer. While she keeps her face neutral, Rey is more than startled by their responses. Before she can gauge the significance of their reactions, a brusque female voice interrupts the confrontation. 

“What is going on here?” 

Rey nearly sags with relief at the sound of Maz’s voice. 

The three wolves spin around so fast Rey’s shocked they don’t get whiplash. The atmosphere of the room shifts dramatically once again, only this time it’s sour with disdain and exasperation. A rather surprising mixture, Rey surmises. She leans to the side to catch a glimpse of Maz standing in the doorway, fists on her hips with an AK-47 slung behind her back. 

“Vetch, I thought I told you the first time that I wasn’t getting involved with any of the First Order’s affairs,” Maz says impatiently. 

The one-eyed man, Vetch apparently, starts ranting in rapid Old Latin and it’s so fast that Rey can’t make sense of what he’s saying. Maz every so often hurls a disinterested comeback at the wolves, who for whatever reason now have their tails tucked in between their legs.  

“Insolentia tua revertetur ut te adeat, anus insana! Iudicium suum mittet Summus Dux!” Vetch towers over Maz and the height difference is nearly comical as he bears his teeth. Rey swallows nervously at the sight of those powerful-looking canines that can probably chew through durasteel. She would intervene if she didn’t already know Maz can single-handedly take down a grizzly bear.  

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child in need of a scolding. I’ve been on this earth longer than you pups have and that so-called leader of yours, too.” Maz narrows her eyes as the wolves seemingly hiss at the mention of the pack ruler. “He wants to say something to me, he can do it himself. Now I will do as I have done every year to ensure the Summit has no interruptions.” There’s a note of distaste as she says that word. 

Vetch snarls once more before grunting in acquisition, and the blonde wolf angrily gestures to Rey after hissing in Old Latin. 

Maz hums nonchalantly, a fist on her hip. “Trespassing on another’s territory is a violation of the Old Laws. She had every right to brandish her weapon.” 

Rey remains a silent observer as she watches this exchange unfold with curious eyes. 

“And, she is under my roof, and she is one of mine. Therefore you can’t and won’t touch her.” Maz’s voice is clipped and terse. “Is that clear?”

All three wolves look like they want to claw Maz’s throat out and eat it for breakfast, but the fury settling is only magnified at the fact that they can’t lay a claw on her. For what reason, Rey has no idea. They know why and so does Maz, but Rey is more lost than a puppy at the fish harbor. 

By way of parting gifts, they let out low growls from deep in their chests, a sound that sends chills through every single one of Rey’s bones, before turning around and leaving. If they were in their wolf forms, Rey’s positive that their tails would be tucked in between their legs and ears pressed flat against their heads. 

Maz lets out a small huff before watching them go. 

“This is why I hate this time of year,” she mutters with a small eye roll. 

“Everyone seems to be on edge right now,” Rey remarks cautiously, her nerves still shot from the previous encounter with the werewolves. A type of fear she can only describe as searing had shot up her spine, colder than snow on Denali in December. The image of New Jedha flashed back into her mind, burning and suffocating, except she was the prey with nothing more than a dagger in her hand. 

“Which is why we need to talk,” Maz says briskly. She slams the firearm onto the wooden countertop before beckoning Rey to the back room. Maz’s office doubled as a workshop with its heavy machinery that had more than a double hundred thousand dollars in market value. The first time Rey laid eyes on it, she had instantly wondered how much Plutt would have bargained for it in Jakku. 

“You visited Temmin and Ackbar.” It’s worded as a question, but delivered as a statement. “And our flyboy already gave you a brief idea of what’s going on here?”

Rey nods. “Sort of.” She takes a seat at the table while Maz pours them a beer. Rey has never liked the taste but she finds that it makes it easier to digest any serious talk with the old woman. “How the Alaskan packs congregate here to elect their leader. Those wolves upstairs mentioned something about a ‘supreme leader?’”

“Glad to see you’re still practicing your Latin.” Maz’s eyes sparkle fondly. “Yes, that’s what it is in a nutshell.”

Rey doesn’t miss that note of resignation to her voice, the one that seems to run universally every time someone approaches the topic. 

“So why is everyone acting so weird about it?”

Maz sighs heavily and chugs down her drink without wincing. A feat that causes Rey no end of shock. “Back when I first came to this place, many years ago, the Summit was essentially an echo of modern democracy before the outbreak decimated most of civilization. Any written work about werewolves that you’ll find in the library will describe the Alpha Rite to Combat. Which basically means, to prove your strength as a leader, you fight the current pack leader in a fight.”

“That sounds…” Barbaric. 

“Barbaric?” Maz finishes knowingly, giving Rey a look. “Yes, most non-wolves think so. But it was the lycan way, and it continued for hundreds of years.”

“So what happened? Why’s it such a bad thing now?”

“Werewolf culture changed, the leaders had different aspirations for the way tradition should shift.” Maz’s eyes flick to Rey. “Child, it’s the same debate we’ve been having since long before you were born: whether humanity has truly evolved, or whether we're no different than our lycanthrope counterparts who simply carry the gene for what the scientists call ‘primitive physiology.’” Her eyes darken. “The current leader of the packs is one who firmly believes in the old ways… power and legitimacy is borne from physical strength. The wrong kind.” Her eyes darken with an emotion Rey can only describe as unadulterated revulsion.  

Rey can guess what kinds of strength she’s referring to: oppression and subjugation. 

“The point is, Rey, everyone’s on edge because they’re waiting to see if this year will be the year that there’s a shift in werewolf authority. But don’t mistake the anticipation for elation; everyone’s afraid. And rightly so.” Maz levels Rey with a serious look. “But for the next week, you have to keep two pairs of eyes open. There are the wolves who are truly slaves to their instincts and like to make prey out of unsuspecting humans. Especially young women.” 

A shiver runs down Rey’s spine at the image that Maz’s words conjure up in her brain.

“But.” Maz slams her hand on the table, making Rey jump. “I don’t have to worry about you too much; you always have your wits about you.”

🌔

Two days go by after Rey’s conversation with Maz, and in that time the entire atmosphere of Juneau completely changes. From her vantage point on the cliffside overlooking the side, the teenager watches the mostly-sleepy city turn into what could pass for a busy metropolis overnight. 

Wolves from all over flock into Juneau’s confines over the course of these forty-eight hours, and it’s actually quite a sight for Rey to observe and hear. They don’t go into the city itself, but rather remain hidden in its forests. She knows they’re there; whenever she works in the yard, the air smells different now. It has an aroma of dog and musk. 

The most obvious distinction is how suddenly silent the city has become. Whenever she wakes up in the mornings and goes about her day, the only sounds are of the wind playing with the leaves or some small birds singing in the distance. Every once in a while she’ll see a car weaving through the streets at illegal speeds before disappearing behind a line of buildings. 

Maz and Poe weren’t joking when they claimed that humans opt to stay out of sight during the week of the Summit, even though the city itself has been deserted of the werewolf populations. Rey supposes it’s not without reason; it doesn’t take a genius to guess that anti-human sentiment runs rampant. In fact, when she walked down the side of the road the other day to visit the pharmacy, she received a disgusted sniff and a low growl from a wolf she didn’t see hiding in the vegetation. 

Her earlier curiosities about the Summit have been quelled thanks to Maz’s warnings, so Rey’s more than content to remain at work and stay out of the woods for the next week. Besides, she has no intention of becoming a werewolf conquest or snack because she decides to go fishing or do a grocery run for Snap, and he even informed her that he isn’t going to require her services for the week. 

“Lay low, Sola,” he emphasized. 

So that’s what Rey plans to do. 

The second afternoon after the packs start to arrive, Rey decides to phone Rose. The Vietnamese lycan has taken up refuge in her cabin across town with Kaydel; like Snap, she has refused to take part in the summit. Not that she would be welcome, anyway, due to her “fraternization with a human.” 

“Still quiet over there?”

“Yeah, they haven’t come by yet,” Rose responds. “It’s only a matter of time before they do, though. It happens every year.” If a house encroaches on wolf territory, it’s a given for a messenger to casually deliver a warning to the owners not to breach any boundaries. 

“So when does the event actually start?” Rey has taken to her room with a warm cup of chamomile and a book she borrowed from the library on modern romance. Even though she initially disdained the genre, she found in recent months that she actually has a taste for it.

“When the Supreme Leader arrives, which could be any time.” Rose sounds nothing short of contemptuous. “Usually the old raisin takes his sweet time, pushing the deadline before the full moon, but that’s how it goes. The Summit is designed by the Alpha and his council.” 

“Do you know what he looks like?” Rey can’t help her curiosity. For all the talk of the Supreme Leader, she’s pictured a giant werewolf with giant teeth, piercing eyes and a dark pelt littered with scars. 

Rose makes a noise of disgust. “I really wish I didn’t. He has a very… distinct appearance, I can’t really put it into words.”

In the background, Kaydel’s snide comment about ‘A ghoul that makes children cry’ carries over the receiver, and Rey laughs despite herself. 

“That aside, you know it when you see him,” Rose goes on. “He’s hard to miss. Usually he has his Right Hand beside him and his Executioner.”

More terms Rey has no idea what they mean. “Right Hand?”

Rose sucks in a breath, apparently musing over her thoughts. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just the epitome of what everyone in that dratted pack strives for in a werewolf: bloodthirsty, merciless and fearsome. But he never shows his face, so you probably won’t even see him.” 

Rey certainly hopes she doesn’t. Immediately she thinks of another monster, a wolf riddled with scars, missing fur, ferocious, the blood of prey dripping from his massive jaws. She’s seen similar things, the scar of Lor San Tekka’s severed head forever burned into her memory like a hot iron.

When Rey readies for bed that night, the howls of wolves outside her window seem to bring the entire Alaskan forest alive. She tentatively cracks the window to let the fall air in, listening to the orchestra of cries echoing into the sky like a mournful song. 

She shivers twice as she hears what sounds like a twig snapping in the distance. When her eyes close, the first picture her brain conjures up is a rectangle of pale skin surrounded by the darkness. Set deep on either side of the outline of a nose are two eyes, each an alluring color of… something. Brown, perhaps? As she peers intently at them, she observes a handful of hues swimming in those pools of whiskey.

When Rey snaps her eyes open once more, she’s staring ahead into the trees. 

It’s happened too many times for her to pin hallucinations as the culprit. Even back when she was huddled in the corner of a boxcar, they were there. She’d chalked it up to dehydration before. But that’s no longer the case. So she knows she’s not imagining the moonlight reflecting off of the two gold rings glowing ominously within the shadows.

They’re staring right at her. 

Chapter Text

It’s pitch black in her room when Rey opens her eyes. At first she’s shocked that she would wake up so early, but she glances at her clock and sees that it’s four thirty-one in the morning. Lovely. Three days have gone by since she became certain she's being watched in her own home, yet nothing else has happened to indicate something’s awry. She's forced herself to get lost in her work when she's not running errands here and there for extra money.

Yes, she's doing that now. People now hire her to run errands for them and pay her for it. Turns out humans really don't want to be caught out and about during Summit Week so they'll do anything to avoid leaving their houses. So they hire brave or stupid people like Rey to do it for them. 

For at the price of a few measly dollars, they don't become werewolf chow. 

Rey doesn't mind, she's spent her life learning how to avoid crawlers and night-walkers, so it's not a big deal to her. And she's been left alone for the most part, and she never stays out past sundown. 

The work itself is easy enough, but the stress on her psyche is taxing, and she's found herself becoming even more tired than before. By the end of the day, she's so tired that she seems to fall asleep instantly, but she never stays sleeping and when she does, it's fitful and wracked by nightmares. Like tonight. 

Rey rolls over on her mattress and closes her eyes once more to try and go back to sleep again. But after lying on her side for over half an hour, she cedes defeat. 

She would have chugged an extra pitcher of chamomile if she had known it was going to be one of those nights again. The ones where she’s hopelessly trapped by insomnia. Or whatever that condition’s called. 

She’s had more than forty of these nights since she’s arrived in Alaska. The ones where she’s too scared or too wrapped up in her thoughts to even consider sleep. The culprits are either her night terrors, the nights where she’s so cold she can’t stop shivering, even as she tucks her arms inside her sweatshirt to keep warm. On her somewhat soft mattress, blanket and pillow, sleep evades her like elusive prey. 

Is it so insane to want a night of sleep, Rey wonders. She never slept through the night in Jakku; back when she lived under Unkar’s roof, she usually slept with an eye open to make sure no one would try to creep in beside her again. It happened once, when she was twelve, and the boy woke up to a broken jaw and dislocated fingers. Rey then finalized her point by stealing his pickaxe. 

Even in her trailer, she didn’t sleep. How could she? A flimsy wall made of metal was the only thing separating her from the elements and the mutated humans they called crawlers. 

Rey shuts her eyes but her thoughts wander back to Jakku, as well as what she’s heard from the smugglers and importers that come to Maz’s pub every day to drink their anxieties. The States are getting worse, like she expected. Some states are completely overrun by “mutants,” as they’re calling the people who catch the virus. Small towns have been destroyed and abandoned; the remaining capital cities like Sacramento, Detroit and D.C. are “quarantine zones.” If there are any remaining strongholds for humans to live peacefully, no one knows exactly where they are.  

It’s as bad as Rey assumed. But not for one moment does she regret leaving that hellhole; every minute she spent shivering and crying and heaving inside that cargo hold was worth it. For the price of her dignity at the expense of sexist, chauvinistic werewolves, she gets to eat hot meals, sleep with a stable roof over her head, work, make money and talk with her… friends— (Rey is still new to the use of that term)— as she pleases. She sighs contentedly, still under the blanket. 

Yes, she’s content, she now has everything she’s ever wanted. 

Right?

Rey rolls over on the mattress again, fuzzy vision fixing on the shadow of the windowpane reflecting off the wall. The sky’s still clear, she sees. But as she stares a few moments longer, she notices the outline of a shape moving across the outside.  

It’s nearly sixteen years of shotgun instinct that causes her spine to shoot up rigidly. Her gaze is fixed on that spot, waiting for any sign of movement to reappear. The dagger is merely a few inches away, hidden under her pillow. Her shotgun lies not a meter underneath the bed frame. 

But she goes for the dagger. She’s gotten really good at it thanks to Maz’s lessons on knifery. 

Creeping across the floor, Rey presses her body just beside the windowpane. She sees nothing, she sniffs and only smells air. With a hint of wood shavings and pine needles mixed in. She peers through the clear rays of pure silver light shining through the windows, and at first sees nothing outside the usual coniferous trees and tall grass that line the boundary of Maz’s yard where the forest starts. 

But she keeps watching, looking. When she closes her eyes she can almost imagine those gold rings that continue to haunt her dreams and have haunted since she was thirteen years old in Jakku. 

She believed they promised her harm and danger. When she first came within moments of death with a werewolf ready to clamp its jaws down on her skull, they were the first thing she thought of. Looking back, it was a strange thing to be thinking about as one was about to die. 

She found they’d had a habit of lurking. 

‘Rey…’

The voice, deep and hypnotic, reverberates through her mind like claps of thunder rolling down the slopes of a mountain. Rey flinches as she looks around the room wildly. It had spoken so clearly; it may as well have been beside her. 

When she looks outside again, bewildered, she sees it. 

Or rather, she sees him. 

A wolf that she initially mistakes for a bear is standing right under her window, looking up at her with an intensity so concentrated it looks otherworldly. Pure gold gazes up at her and she has no choice but to stare back, transfixed. Rey’s heart hitches in her throat as her mind races to every worst case scenario it can conjure up: it’ll climb the wall, crawl through the window and kill her; maybe it’ll play with her a few times before ultimately ripping her head off her body. 

She blinks twice, breaking free of the trance, and gives her visitor another intent once-over.  Seriously, the wolf looks GINORMOUS. Like “it can dwarf a grizzly bear” level ginormous. Its fur is blacker than obsidian, a body sculpted by powerful muscles that could crush her into dust. The tip of his left ear is torn, and she sees slivers marring his pelt and patches of missing fur. Battle scars. Conquest markers. Rey doesn’t want to think about how many are hidden along his body that she can’t see. 

As these thirty seconds pass far longer than she is comfortable with, wants to look away, but she finds that she can’t. It’s like the wolf is the only thing that her mind wants to concentrate on. It lacks that traditional ravenousness that she’s come to expect from wolves, instead displaying an emotion she can only describe as… human.

‘Who are you?’ 

The voice is soft, unlike the sinister and malevolent baritone she’s used to hearing in her sleep. There’s a genuine curiosity behind the words. The question bounces in her mind and for a moment, she thinks that the thoughts are her own. 

‘Nobody,’ is the first word that pops into her head. Not a moment later she grimaces at her own response. What kind of answer was that?  

While Rey has no idea why the wolf’s still staring at her like she’s the world’s most complicated puzzle, she doesn’t wanna linger any longer. The more easily influenced part of her brain shuts down and Rey stiffens abruptly. Her eyes furrow as she gives the wolf a hard stare, only to receive one to match. Now the beast looks like he’s considering whether it would be worth the effort to make a meal out of her. 

The moment drags, Rey’s vision tunnels sharply, and for a split second the image of a pale face flashes in front of her eyes. She freezes, brow furrowed, as she struggles to figure out where the face came from or who it belongs too. It had no features, only pale like the moon itself and framed by black. 

It’s always black. Always the darkness and the shadows. Like the ones that have been following her for months ever since she left Jakku and have somehow found her again a few thousand miles from where she started. 

Rey is tired and irritated and in no mood to entertain what is probably her exhaustion playing tricks on her. And if it isn’t that, well, Maz warned her that some wolves like to get extra territorial and mark their land during the Summit. So this one must be one of those who think Maz’s shop is infringing too much for their liking. It’s fine; Rey remembers some lycans like that back in Jakku. Just be passive, put on a mask of docility, and you’ll be fine. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to clear the haze that began to fill her head to the point of delirium. She begins to feel a bit lightheaded, legs swaying on her feet, as she fights some nausea burning through her throat. When she peers outside again, she sees nothing but the landscape unfolding from where the tree line starts, and the clipped grass ends. The wolf is gone. Like he was never there in the first place.  

Rey drops the dagger, hugs her arms to her chest, keels over, stifling a small whimper of distress. She feels more tired and confused than she has in a long time. What is going on? Why is this happening to her? 

‘Sleep…’

Rey nods bleakly. “Yes,” she whispers. “I need to go to sleep.” To stop whatever tricks her head is playing on her.

She doesn’t feel her head hit the pillow. 

🌓

Rey wakes up that morning with a migraine the size of Siberia and in a surly mood. 

“Maker dammit and sweet Rii’a,” she curses into the room. Third night in a row where she feels like there’s a dumbbell rolling around her skull and at this point she’s tempted to try alternate forms of medicine to quell it. Maybe she should stop drinking beer. 

Forecast indicates some light frost later in the day, but clear skies with winds blowing down from the mountains. So Rey dresses in boots, heavy pants and a flannel sweater she bought at the local shop she bought. Probably the most expensive article of clothing she’s ever owned, but it’s worth the forty dollars she spent. 

Per tradition, Rey draws the curtains and lets the light and cool air in. Her gaze drops somewhat to the span of yard rolling ahead of her, and the normalcy of it all — green grass blades coated in cotton frost — is almost ironic given the event that took place the night before. She wants to think that the wolf on steroids was a hallucination she could pin on fatigue. That’s what she’s done for months. But somewhere at the back of her mind, her gut is telling her something else is going on. 

The thought sends shivers down her spine before she puts it to rest and goes downstairs, unwilling to spend her entire day being perturbed by anxious thoughts. She stuffs her bag with her emptied shotgun, protein packs, a match, and dagger with her. For emergencies. Living in Juneau hasn’t eroded a fourth of Rey’s previous survival instincts from Jakku and she’s more than proud of it. 

Rey eats what’s left of a fish sandwich from yesterday and a bag of nuts before heading out. Maz’s pickup is parked out front and Rey observes her loading a few crates that probably weigh more than she does into the back. The old woman constantly demonstrates an invisible strength time and time again and Rey still hasn’t figured it out. Bothers her like a nearly-complete puzzle with four missing pieces. 

“Ah, Rey, good morning,” Maz exclaims as she shuts the back door of the truck. “I didn’t expect to see you up so early.”

Rey checks her watch, it says seven-fifteen. Hardly a far cry from her usual wake-up schedule. 

Maz takes her silence as her confused response. “I know you’ve been sleeping poorly, figured you’d try to get a few extra hours in.” She pulls a small notepad from her vest pocket and starts ticking off items with a satisfying flick of her wrist. The fact that the words are written in Latin isn’t lost on Rey, and her heart speeds up again. 

“So, where are you off to today?” Maz questions without looking up from her work.

Truthfully, Rey’s only plan was to stay away from the main city all day and do work around the yard. But beyond that, nothing at all. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m taking a delivery to the next town over so I’ll be gone all day. I know staying idle will drive you mad.” Maz’s smile was knowing and playful. Rey allowed a soft smile of her own on her face. 

“So I’ll give you something to do, I think you’ll appreciate it.” Maz beckons for Rey to follow her towards an entirely new collection of crates that Rey didn’t notice beforehand. “A shipment came in from Vancouver this morning. Application assembly.”

The translation of Maz’s words: “I have machines for you to put together.” Rey’s eyes widen with zeal and intrigue. She hasn’t assembled anything in months and she’s angsty to get her feet wet again. 

“See I know you’d like that.” Maz gestures to Rey’s smile. “Alright,” she goes on briskly, brushing her hands on the backs of her pants as she closes the back of the pickup. “Alright, that’s everything.” The old lady opens the driver’s door and hops inside. With a move that swift, Rey suspects Maz has springs in her boots. 

“Be safe, Maz,” Rey urges. There’s a small level of urgency in her voice. Maz only waves a hand. 

“I’ll be fine. I stick to the backroads.” Maz starts the engine of her stick shift and kicks the rust bucket into gear. “Now remember, child.” Now her eyes are serious. “Be very careful, if you’re going to keep running errands. The days are getting shorter. Don’t stay out too long.”

“Yes, Maz, I know, I know.” Rey has heard it many times by now. It’s a risk, but isn’t every business venture in life? 

“Your safety’s more important than money. Keep your eyes peeled, stay alert.” Maz gives her a nod before focusing ahead. Rey takes a step back and watches her guardian speeding off the grass and onto the winding road. She keeps watching long after Maz is out of sight, and she’s alone with the shop and the trees. 

🌓

Three hours later, Rey’s elbow-deep in assembling an electrical generator that’s been out of production for at least twenty years when she hears the snap of a tree branch. She glances up from her work and looks around through narrow, keen eyes. For a moment she suspects it’s the werewolves who showed their faces a few days earlier to threaten her, but that fear is quickly laid to rest when she sees a little boy standing in the dirt lot looking lost. Rey raises her eyebrows, intrigued. 

‘Wonder who’s looking for Maz this time.’

She leaves her station to greet him, wrench in hand, on the off chance he’s looking for or may bring trouble. These days, especially this week, you never know. 

By the time she makes his way to him, he’s crossed the front and he’s walked up the front steps and knocked on the door. 

“Looking for someone?”

The boy lets out a squeak and whirls around, casting bright eyes the color of fine fern up at Rey. She almost feels bad for startling him at the way his complexion flushed. But that goes away when he fully turns to face her and he purses his lips together. He stares up at her intently as she stands in front of him, taking him in. His clothes are disheveled and from the looks of it, he hasn’t showered or bathed in a while. She’d know; she’d seen that look on herself a million times.

As the silence goes on, Rey becomes aware of how she looks; she’s towering over him with a wrench in her hand and she probably has a scowl on her face. It can’t be helped, it’s instinct. So she bends down to his level and tries again. “Can I help you? Are you lost?”

Her voice is too sweet for her liking, but if it’ll cajole the kid…

“Is Maz here?” the boy asks finally after a moment. 

His voice is so high and sweet that it catches Rey off guard with how adorable he is. He has a head full of hair, thick hair that’s a color so red she didn’t know it could exist on a human’s head. His full cheeks are speckled with freckles and he has a cute button nose and wide eyes. He can’t be any more than eight years old.

“No. She’s not.” 

For the fleetest of moments, the boy looks disappointed, but it goes away quickly. “Okay then. I’ll wait until she gets back.”

With that, he sits down on the step and folds his hands neatly in his lap, staring ahead. 

Unbiddingly, Rey’s lip curls in amusement. “You’ll be sitting there a while, kid. She won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“I’ll just have to stay here,” he tuts. “I have to.”

“And why is that?”

He turns to look up at her, an oddly serious look in his big green eyes. “Because my daddy told me to.”

If nothing else that the kid has sprouted catches Rey by surprise, that sentence alone does. She furrows her brow curiously, sliding the wrench into her vest pocket and sitting next to the kid. 

“Really?”

“Yep.” The boy nods vigorously. “He told me to find Maz Kanata and tell her something important.”

Something important? “What might that be?”

“I can’t tell.” The boy wiggles his hands. “It’s a secret.”

Rey wants to laugh, except a note to the boy’s voice tells her he’s being dead serious. The frivolity of young children has died, died out long ago. Bred out by the harsh realities of modern society. So he’s not conjuring up the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Well, kid, I know all about keeping secrets,” Rey says. 

“Don’t call me kid,” the boy snaps, a glare on his little face. 

Rey doesn’t fight the smile now. “But that’s what you are.”

“I have a name!”

“What is it, then?” She genuinely wants to know.

He pauses, giving Rey an intent stare that rubs her oddly. “BB.” 

“Alright.” Rey nods, pursing her lips together in the imitation of a smirk. It’s probably a nickname. “Nice to meet you BB, I’m Rey.” 

“Rey, like the light?” BB points a skinny finger towards the sky where the sun is, indeed, glaring lightly down at them through a thin sheet of clouds. 

The question is as innocent as he is, but it strikes Rey somewhere she didn’t expect it to. She lets out a laugh through her nose, smiling wide enough that her dimples appear. 

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

BB nods in understanding. “So this is Maz’s house?” He points to the building they’re sitting in front of. 

“Yes.”

“Are you her daughter?”

That question raises Rey’s eyebrows to her hairline. “No, why do you ask?”

He shrugs. “Just wondering. My daddy and I lived in the same place his parents lived for a while. So I thought maybe you lived here if Maz was your mom.”

The reasoning is sound, if not a bit strange. As far as Rey knew, people tend to separate from their parents the first chance they get. And why wouldn’t they? She can’t imagine being shackled to a pair of miscreants who could hardly fend for themselves. 

“No, I work here.”

“Is that what the wrench is for?”

Wow, this boy doesn’t miss anything, does he? Rey glances at her vest before glancing his way again. “Yes. I’m building somewhere back there.” She points to her workstation in the yard.

“Can I see it?”

“Sure. Come on.”

And that’s when Rey’s afternoon becomes a lot more interesting than she initially anticipated. 

🌓

Turns out having BB around is a welcome presence Rey didn’t expect to get used to. 

After she takes him inside to feed him, which is an endeavor she finds she’ll want to partake in again for the entertainment of it, he spends the next few hours with her in the yard helping her put Maz’s machines together. 

Turns out BB’s real name is Brian-Blake, no last name. Everyone just calls him BB for short, he says. He’s an only child from Ilum, a small city up north by the Denali mountains, and his parents hate each other. A lot, he emphasizes. 

“Do you know why they hate each other?” Rey queries, half-listening. 

“Daddy didn’t agree with the things Mommy was into. That’s what he told me,” BB replies easily. He’s focused on a project Rey has him working on: assembling a small crate. Because BB worked on wooden things with his father and he wants to help Rey put a generator together.

Rey refuses because she doesn’t want him to smash his finger off.  

“Really?” She makes sure that he’s not hammering his finger to the wood inside of the nail before turning back to her own work. “What things?”

BB shrugs. “Beats me. But that’s when we went to live with my Papa for a while. Get away from the crazy things Mommy was into.” 

The loose vocabulary is conjuring up a myriad of possibilities into Rey’s mind, one of which is a glaring alarm bell that’s screaming werewolf, werewolf, werewolf into her ear over and over. 

“That makes sense, I guess,” Rey concedes, doing her best not to jam the fan blade inside the generator’s cooling unit. 

BB juts his chin, seemingly satisfied with her response, before all conversation stops and he fixates a laser focus on the crate he’s almost done putting together. Rey observes with amusement that it’s not a shoddy job at all. 

🌓

Six in the evening rolls around and Rey is cajoling BB into bed. He keeps insisting that he’s not tired even though there’s humorously large amounts of evidence to the contrary, the biggest piece being he keeps yawning every forty-five seconds. 

“But I don’t want to go to bed. I want to stay up with you,” he says, even as he gets into her bed when she pulls aside the blanket for him. 

“I didn’t walk twelve kilometers by myself today,” Rey counters lightly as she sits on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket over him. When he casually mentioned how long it took for him to get here, she almost keeled over in shock. Though she shouldn’t have been too surprised; she’d done the same thing back in Jakku too many times to count. 

“Do I really have to go to bed? My dad usually lets me stay up until at least nine,” BB whines. 

“I’m sure that your dad wouldn’t like it if you didn’t get enough sleep,” Rey says for the umpteenth time, keeping the slight annoyance out of her voice. She can’t get mad at him but the questions are making her already sore head ache. “Besides, you need all the rest you can for when Maz gets back. Then you can tell her all about her secret mission, hm?”

He can’t argue with that logic. BB’s long lashes flutter over his cheeks as he nods, finally. Rey gives him a soft smile before tucking him under the blanket. She’ll sleep on the small couch in the other room tonight. It’s fine; she’s slept in worse places. 

“Alright. Good night, BB.” She gives him a reassuring pat. “If you need something, I’ll be downstairs.” She gets up to leave when his next question freezes her in her tracks. 

“Will you be here when I wake up, Rey?”

Those words ask one thing but the question she hears instead is, ‘Are you leaving me?’

The question is innocent and she knows he can’t possibly know the multitude of emotions and fears that those four words conjure up. But it hits her hard with a pang guaranteed to knock the wind out of her. Her breath gets caught in her throat and she gasps sharply. 

‘Five, four, three, two, one…’

“Yes, BB, I will be here. I…” She snaps her mouth shut before she can say the awful word. Promise. Because promises are always broken and it’s a word more empty than she felt in Jakku for most of her life. “I will be here,” she says with finality. 

With that, she turns off the light and quietly closes the door behind her. 

After sealing the door to the upstairs, Rey goes to the main shop, feeling oddly more refreshed than she does after a night of sleep. Outside, the sky is pitch black, the sun having set hours ago, but the pure moonlight is enough of a guide by itself to illuminate the tops of the Alaskan forest.

Who knew that all it took to perk up her life was an afternoon with a spunky little boy with red hair? Rey chuckles softly as she heats a kettle of tea on the small gas stove. She never thought she would, but she likes BB. He’s nice to have around. Still has this innocence about him that’s rare to find nowadays, and he’s smart. Aware, in his own eight-year-old way. 

Part of her is desperately wondering why he walked, alone, to Juneau for Rii’a knows how long to meet Maz. She doesn’t doubt for a second that it has something to do with the Summit, probably, if he’s a werewolf. Is BB a werewolf, she wonders as she sips her tea. She can’t tell at the moment; he didn’t smell like one, and he didn’t have many of the sharp, canine-like features most lycans exhibit. He certainly didn’t exhibit any of the prejudices most werewolves so generously embed in their young towards humans. 

And he’s alone. Unless his father threw him away, which she doubts, Rey’s best guess is that BB came to Maz for safety. Isn’t that what everyone does? It’s what Han Solo told her to do. “Go find Maz Kanata once you arrive,” he said. That’s what Rey did, and she’s better for it. 

It’s just another puzzle she’ll have to figure out. 

Halfway through her mug, she gets a ring on her phone. She glances at it, seeing someone needs a delivery. She scowls, not particularly in the mood to go out. Not just because BB’s upstairs, but after being so sleep-deprived and exhausted, she doubts her abilities to stay low radar will be in as much whip shape as normal. 

So she calls the number. “What do you need right now?”

A middle-aged woman by the name of D’acy answers in a gruff voice. “Sola?”

That’s the name Rey uses when she runs, deciding that Snap’s nickname was good for something after all. No one batted an eye when she introduced herself that way, and if they have a problem, they don’t show it. Not that Rey cares. 

Rey puts on the salesman voice Maz always uses when she has to cater to the slimeballs who drag themselves in twice a week. “What can I do for you?” 

“I know it’s late but I need you to run to the pharmacy and pick up a few things for me. I ran out of amoxicillin and my son has pneumonia.” That’s a note of desperation to the woman’s voice that cannot be faked; Rey can sense falsehood a mile away and this is far from it. She rolls her jaw contemplatively.

D’acy takes Rey’s silence for refusal so she ups the ante. “I will pay you twice what I normally do if you do it. Please, I can’t leave him here alone.”

Rey cocks her head to the side, considering. D’acy is desperate, that much is clear. It’s not super late, barely even seven. By now she’s realized that most of the congregations happen well into the night, when the moon is overhead. One trip won’t hurt, she supposes reluctantly, and they rarely take long. BB’s asleep, he won’t even notice she’s gone for maybe an hour. So she pulls out her notepad from inside her vest. 

“Fine.”

D’acy lets out a hundred-pound sigh of relief, rambling on about how Rey’s a saint and everything, bantha fodder. Rey knows the woman’s more relieved about the fact that the younger girl is willing to stick her neck out like this when nobody else would. But she’s not going to let a child stay sick because of her pride. 

“I’ll be there soon,” Rey says by way of parting gift. She all but slams the phone face down on the wooden table. One quick errand and that’s all. And she’s being well compensated. Should be fine. 

The road that takes her from the outskirts to the main district is long, winding, and silent. From the road winding down the side of the mountain, she can see some of the city lights. Not as many as usual are on, which isn’t surprising given how most of the city has been shut down since the onset of Summit Week. Nightlife has shut off like a light switch and hardly anyone roams about, unless you’re a nightwalker, but even they aren’t in the city usually. They’re out roaming the woods; Rey hears their symphony of howls echoing through the night when she’s trying to fight her fatigue. 

It’s what makes Rey’s runs so simple. She doesn’t have to elbow past anyone. She just has to keep her head down in submission, look forward, and no one bothers her. Sure, they leer, or occasionally catcall, but nothing else. It’s exactly like Jakku, except without sand, the smell of charred flesh and motor oil. 

The pharmacy Rey frequents is open, about half a mile into the city. The parking lot’s empty save for a small scrawny cat chasing a mouse by the garbage can. The “Open” sign is illuminated in bright red lights but Rey already knows almost no one is inside. She gets out of the car, slamming the door shut, and is hit by the smell of smoke. Or something that smells like smoke, and it makes her nostrils flare in disgust. 

She chokes on it and her ears pick up laughter in the distance; she’s not surprised to see a group of werewolves loitering on the sidewalk smoking cigarettes. 

Lovely. 

Rey avoids their eyes and quickly goes inside the building. The items D’acy asked that she get are easy to find: amoxicillin, Tums, a few dissolvents and bacta, that kind of thing. The latter of which is completely irresponsible; Rey can’t imagine running out of bacta at any point in time. It’s basic first aid. 

The cashier at the front is a middle-aged man who smells like he hasn’t bathed in a long time. But then again, with the way the city smells these last few days, has anyone? 

Rey pays for her purchases without a word and exits the pharmacy, going through the plastic bags to make sure everything is fine. As she goes to get in the car, her nose picks up cigarette smoke again and she sighs, heavily. She was so close. 

“Look at this,” she hears a man mutter in Latin. He sounds nothing if not amused, and Rey wants to smack herself in the forehead for getting cocky. 

When she turns, she sees four werewolves approaching her. They’re dressed in dark clothes and per usual, they’re big. Rey does what she usually does: try to ignore them. 

It doesn’t work this time. 

“Where are you going, little one?” one of them drawls, eyes dark and predatory. 

Rey responds in perfect Latin, keeping her eyes averted. “Home.” 

One of them, one with peroxide blond hair, smirks dramatically as the other three exchange looks of shock at her speaking. “What’s your hurry? You just got here.”

“My brother’s sick.” Rey holds up the plastic bag for evidence. Not a total lie, but a highly convenient one. “I have to go home.” She turns her back, opens the door of the drivers’ side only to have it shut in her face. She jumps backwards at the aggression, looking up apprehensively at the werewolf. If that isn’t a smirk on his face, she doesn’t know what it is. 

“This won’t take too long at all,” the shortest one purrs, and Rey feels his proximity to her by the heat of his breath on her neck. Barely concealing her repulsion, she clears her throat, attempting to gain a semblance of control over this situation. She licks her lips and tries, one more time. 

“I need to go,” Rey insists in English, her voice rising. 

The wolves chuckle, misinterpreting the reason for the rise in her voice. They think she’s getting scared, when really she’s doing her best not to sink her knife into one of their nasty pelts and turn it into a throw rug. It’s in the inside pocket of her vest. All she has to do is reach for it. 

The one wolf with a bald head encroaches on her personal space again. He smells like sweat and arousal; it’s not a nice mix. “You’re not going anywhere,” he purrs through a voice that doesn’t sound remotely human. 

Well, she tried.

Rey sighs heavily, knowing she’s going to regret what she’s about to do next. A taloned hand wrapped possessively around her shoulder is what sets her off. 

In one smooth motion, she draws the sharpened blade from within her vest and brings it into the flesh of the one holding her, deep and quick, and pulls back. The sound of blood spatter and torn flesh soon follows as he lets out a howl so loud she hears it ringing in her ears. 

The three others snarl, bearing their sharp canine teeth as they descend on her like vultures. But Rey’s fast, sharp eyes jolting back and forth between every one of them to watch the movement of their bodies, seeking openings where she can strike. The best placement is where it is best to incapacitate or disable, even briefly. In a few graceful movements, she plunges the blade into where she hopes is the femoral artery, axillary cephalic or kidney of any of them. She can’t plan it, she just goes for an opening where it presents itself, while avoiding several left hooks and a kick to the chest from three simultaneous attackers. Turns out werewolves are very knowledgeable about martial arts. 

Rey dodges another right hook aimed for her jaw, almost stumbling over the eerily-still body of the dark-haired wolf, before slamming her knee into the blond wolf’s groin as much force as possible. It’s so worth the pained yowl that rips from his mouth as he falls to his knees, groaning in pain. 

Werewolf or human, that’s always the spot to go for. 

Rey grabs her groceries and jumps into the truck, jamming the key into the engine and slamming her foot on the gas. She has to get out of here fast before anything else happens. She just maimed and possibly killed at least one werewolf during Summit Week, of all times. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s going to be in trouble if she doesn’t get the fuck out of here. 

Tires screeching over the asphalt road, heartbeat bursting in her ears as she tears down the street. The adrenaline’s pumping so hard that she barely hears a howl loud enough to rattle the heavens echo into the night. She’s pushing highway level speeds right now as she runs a red light and speeds out of the city’s confines. 

It’s not until after she hears the howls build off of each other that she realizes just how much danger she’s in. She knows that that means; Maz told her about how messages are sent through “calls,” as is the term. Meaning the werewolves whose asses she kicked are telling their friends where to find the snack they lost. 

The headlights barely penetrate the veil of darkness surrounding her as she rounds a corner in the road. She’s driving blind, and then out of nowhere, something hits the truck so hard that the tires skid and the vehicle violently rotates. 

Rey doesn’t have time to react as she feels herself go airborne for a split second before her world explodes in glass, and everything goes black. 

Chapter Text

It was quicker than he had ever expected. One minute he was crouched in the bushes of undergrowth, eyes trained on a doe who had so blissfully decided to take a small break at the banks of a stream, the next a searing pain shot in between his eyes and he yowled. 

The reverberation of the sound bounced through the forest enough to make his own ears strain, the frightened deer vanishing into the veil of shadows, but he was too distracted to notice, instead clawing violently at the ground underneath his paws as the nerves in his brain burned. The spasm of pain ebbed away so quickly that for the briefest of moments, he thought he had imagined it, only for a dull buzz at the back of his head convinced him otherwise. 

Where did it come from? It was starting to happen more, especially as he shifted forms, but it was gone the moment he shifted back he couldn’t tell if it was merely his senses playing tricks on him. That had to have been the case. 

He was pulled from his thoughts when the entire forest seemed to erupt in a simultaneous howl that sent the birds scattering from the treetops. He stood up rigidly, listening closely for the message woven intricately inside the howls building off of each other like soundwaves. He knew what this was. The chorus call. Something important was being passed around. 

The subtle rises and falls in pitch were underscored by a wrathful vengeance. He knew that well. There was a threat that needed to be addressed.

He trained his ears to the subtle acoustical undertones of the chorus before he heard it clearly: a human had killed or injured not one but two werewolves in the city. For the fleetest of moments, he was slightly impressed at the feat; most humans were weak creatures who couldn’t even knick a werewolf if given the opportunity. But that was soon replaced by anger and disgust. 

The human was fleeing, and the loud rise of the howl suggested in his direction. 

Punishment had to be swiftly imposed. 

Human and werewolf senses aligned, he bounded through the forest towards the edge of the woods. 

🌓

By the time Rey manages to claw her way back from the darkness, her world is so disoriented that she thinks she’s dangling upside down. 

Which isn’t entirely true. After a few moments of painful thinking, her brain recognizes that she is, in fact, dangling sideways. The car’s lying on its right side with the hull smashed into a stubborn pine tree. The remains of its bumper are probably strewn in pieces around the site. 

What the fuck happened? She’s still in her seat, strapped in. The muscles in her abdomen ache; she probably fractured something, her head is slumped to the side at a highly uncomfortable angle, and the steering wheel’s now pressing painfully into her chest. Something warm is trickling down the side of her face and she immediately knows it’s her blood. Maybe she hit the windshield or something. The airbag failed to deploy, if there even is one. Studiously watching the outline of a tree in front of her come and go out of focus through a shattered windshield reminds her of what happened. She’s in a car accident. She drove too fast in her haste to escape the wolves and she hit a tree. 

Or was the car thrown into a tree? Wolves are very strong, getting hit by a car’s no more painful than accidentally running into a wall. Either way, Maz’s pickup is utterly wrecked and Rey is dreading how the hell she’s going to explain this to the wizened old woman when she returns. 

The low hum of growling outside the car is what snaps her back to reality like a bucket of ice water. She killed one, possibly two wolves and ran. It wasn’t without reason; they were going to rape her, or something along those lines. Either way she dug the blade of her dagger inside their flesh and drew blood. That’s enough to get her killed, and if history is any indicator, it won’t be a quick death. It’ll be slow, savage, and merciless. She won’t be dangling on the walls by a rope, no. They’ll probably leave her headless body in the town square. 

The sunroof above her shatters as a half-human hand reaches through, and Rey screams as it comes within inches of her head. Talons grip her hair and yank hard. On instinct she grabs a shard of glass embedded inside the passenger headrest and jams it into the top of the hand. The shriek of a yowl that vibrates painfully through her ears is unholy and she winces, knowing very well that she just added about a dozen more lacerations to the punishment she’s going to receive for this. 

Ignoring the pain burning through her nerves, she hastily unstraps her seatbelt, gropes around for the dagger miraculously still inside her vest, and uses the hilt to smash the driver side window. Glass rains down on her and pricks her skin but she doesn’t care; she just has to get the fuck out of this vehicle. 

The adrenaline’s pumping, and with the veins in her arms and legs thrumming with cortisol, Rey forces herself through the window and climbs through, paying no mind to the jagged pieces of glass slicing through her jacket and into her skin. A few cuts won’t kill her and she’s survived worse. 

Besides, if she’s going to die, which she probably is, she’s going to go out with a bang. 

Rey firmly plants a heel on the head rest, pushing the rest of her body out of the car. She’s free at least. But then she’s greeted by the sight of nearly a dozen werewolves surrounding her on all sides, some in their hybrid forms as they bare their razor-sharp teeth with their claws unsheathed. There’s none of the lust she may have seen before. No, this is pure hatred, and they clearly want to sink their claws in her and tear her apart until there’s nothing left. 

The one detail that is astonishingly glaring, besides the fact that they’re all wearing black leather jackets like Coloradian bikers, is that they’re all men. Unlike the werewolves who attacked her in the parking lot, who were probably only a few years older than her, these ones are fully mature. Which means that they can snap her neck in half with a simple twist. She knows right away that the odds of her walking away from this is infinite to none. 

One werewolf with burnt sienna hair makes an obscene gesture towards her and calls out something in Latin, and there’s a chorus of laughter that erupts from the rest of them. Rey doesn’t have to understand Latin to know that they’re mocking her; of course they are. Not that she can blame them. In their short-sighted minds, she’s nothing but a parvulus, a little one, and she’s half their size if that. Of course they don’t think she's capable of killing two werewolves with her bare hands. 

A disagreement over what to do with her takes form not a moment later, and the situation would be almost laughable if it isn’t so dire; these werewolves arguing as one would argue who gets to eat the last rib at the dinner table. Most of them are too busy leering at her to take part so she stares them down with an equal note of defiance to her countenance. A blond-haired wolf suggests something so obscene that Rey’s jaw nearly drops to her shoes. She’d rather stab herself through the heart now than be subjected to what hell that type of punishment promised. 

The one who seems to be in charge, a dark-haired one with rugged facial hair, sharply mutters rubbish about “formalities” and “law” before declaring in clear English, “Keep her alive!” He being a loose term; Rey has no idea to whom they are referring to, but she has no desire to stick around and find out. 

As if they can sense her thoughts, three of them advance on her from behind and another two in the front. Right now, her height on the car is the only advantage she has, but it seems as though they’re more than content to eradicate that as she feels the car start to tip forward. They’re trying to turn it over. 

Her feet slide, there’s a ferocious shove as the car starts to right itself. Rey takes a gamble and takes to the air just as the pickup collapses on its already-flat tires. She tightens her core, pulls her knees into her chest, tucks her chin and performs a somersault over their heads. She feels the brush of talons pull at her hair but she’s quicker and she lands a few meters away. 

They whirl around on her, snarling furiously as she rises to her feet, eyes narrowed. Her senses are hyper alert and the hairs on the back of her neck are rigid straight, every one of her instincts tuned to the extreme level of danger threatening to eat her whole. 

A dark growl that’s as animal as they come cuts through her like a shiv before she reacts. A taloned hand on her arm so strongly that it’ll bruise come tomorrow is all that it takes to activate her warrior instincts. Instincts she’d grown and bred since she was a child scavenging around the wastes in Jakku. If she could survive Plutt’s vermin, she can survive a few night-walkers. 

Right? 

In a practiced motion she knows by heart, she draws the dagger and swings, arching it upward and bringing it down into flesh, harsh flesh more dense than human muscle. The wolf howls and lets her go as she draws the blade back, spewing blood and tissue and bone. She spares a look at his hand and immediately wishes she hadn’t, it’s almost dangling off his wrist with how deeply she slashed into it. 

The air goes thick with testosterone, primal intent and rage as it all goes to hell not a moment later. Rey quickly finds herself overwhelmed, taloned hands grabbing at her as she fights back any way she can. With her skin being torn to bits, her awareness of every moment she feels teeth and claws cutting through her like incisors, she becomes more and more aware of her fate, that she really is going to die here and now. Feasted on by vicious werewolves. She closes her eyes and lets her soul start to drift away, far from the assault on her body. 

‘Rey…’ 

Of course, she sees gold, pure gold, and the face of a little boy who wormed his way into her heart in less than three hours. 

“Will you be here when I wake up, Rey?” 

She smiles. “Yes, BB, I will be there.”

It was the last thing she said to him before she left. She told, no… promised BB she would be there when he woke up in the morning. She promised she wouldn’t leave him. 

The word “promise” usually means nothing to Rey. It’s an empty word with zero meaning because it’s used carelessly by people who never fulfill their promises at all. But for some reason, it’s something different now. BB’s eight years old. He’s alone, she can already tell. 

She’ll get back to him. No matter what it takes. 

By now the blows have stopped; no doubt the wolves believe her to be complacent and subdued. She knows she looks horrific from the way her body burns in so many places. She’s curled on her right side, limp, as she stares ahead with her eyes barely open. The blood in her eyes makes it hard to see, but she can make out at least five pairs of boots in her line of sight, and a few more lurking just inside her periphery. 

She sniffs the air and Rey smells the odd hint of distress, which surprises her greatly. As much as she wants to dwell on it, she doesn’t have time. Keeping herself as still as possible, she searches vainly for her dagger. It’s lying a few feet away, they didn’t think to move it. 

Smart. 

Rey only barely twitches but the movement is enough to reignite every injury scratched across her body. She barely keeps her squeal of pain trapped in her teeth as she inhales sharply. 

“You’ve lived through worse. You’ve survived pain worse than this,” she tells herself. “So get up and fight!”

If that’s not enough motivation, the next thing Rey sees is New Jedha. Dark red smeared against her eyelids, the image of Lor San Tekka’s severed head dangling from the jaws of a wolf she killed not two minutes later. Or was it Kira who pulled the trigger? 

She remembers how angry she felt, how furious she was to watch someone die and she did nothing to prevent it, how utterly paralyzed she was by her own fear until it was too late to change the outcome. Here she is now, in perfect condition to change the outcome of how she lives, isn’t she?

Once again, she feels hands on her body, zinging her with a rush of adrenaline powerful enough to knock over Sasquatch himself. Rey grabs the dagger in a stretched motion that once again sends her nerves ablaze. Perhaps she’s just too high on the cortisol to care, but she takes a swipe at the hand lingering dangerously close to her breasts, rotates her body and swings her legs under her abdomen. The blood is pulsing at every scratch and welt on her skin, no doubt from her body’s effort to lessen the amount of blood loss. She can tell from the way she swayed on her feet that it wants to shut down, but she won’t let it yet. 

“Back off!” she yells, and all the wolves simultaneously turn their dark eyes on her. 

“What’s this?” The man who spoke in English has a vaguely British accent. “See here, look at this carnicula, trying to make herself big!” He guffaws and it sends hot rage coiling through Rey’s chest to the point of discomfort. As much as she wants to dig her blade into his chest until she sees blood, she doesn’t, for only self-preservation. 

Something hard barrels into her so hard that she falls onto her knees, the road cutting through her pants and she knows she’ll have more cuts in the morning. The force of the shove knocks the wind out of her, but she refuses to fall over. She won’t, she won’t. 

Two harsh words, spoken in rough Latin, freeze her in her tracks. 

“That’s enough, human.”

Rolling stones down the mountainside. 

“You’ve done more than enough to warrant what’s about to happen to you.”

A taloned vise grabs her by the wrist so hard that she yelps. A massive, pale hand that h consumes hers jerks her around and pulls her upward. She’s stunned as she takes in the figure before her, it could probably bring the ancient Roman gladiators to shame with how wide and packed with muscle it seems to be. Maybe throce her size if she’s being liberal. Rey looks up, craning her neck, dreading what she’s going to see. A man. A giant one shrouded in black from head to toe. 

At least seven feet tall and the size of an army tank. Rey’s muscles tense as he says nothing, but he doesn’t have to. His appearance is menace incarnate and it does the work for him. His apparatus, while simple with a deeply hooded balaclava, is obviously crafted to invoke fear, which it executes flawlessly. The garments leave his face to the imagination with the exception of his furrowed brow over nightmarishly dark eyes. Those eyes are predatory and malevolent, with a level of instability behind them that cuts through her like a knife. 

It’s the darkness she sees for the fleetest of moments that stops her in her tracks. But that’s gone a nanosecond later. For when she truly gazes into that hypnotic gaze is when the universe implodes. 

It’s not like the bedtime stories you’d read to children. It’s not a mystical event, with firecrackers and arcing flares of light exploding in front of her. Rey can only describe it as searing and intense, a burning sensation coiling up her arm where his skin is on hers. 

She sees two gold rings. 

And it becomes so blinding that she lets out a gasp of pain and squeezes her eyes shut. Pain bursts in her mind as every image she’s seen over the past few months is replayed in the blink of an eye, those vibrant gold rings that floated around her dreams and nightmares for years finally had an owner. After all this time of confusing dreams and what she assumed were only tricks of the mind, she was seeing this man, this creature, in the flesh, standing in front of her. 

A bloom of heat concentrates between her eyes before dissipating like mist. Everything around her seems clearer, stars brighter, emotions sharper, the air is thrumming with energy like volts humming along a live wire . The roaring blood in her ears does not keep her from hearing the man muttering his own surprise in the form of a startled grumble, as his grip loosens on her. 

Rey takes her chance, twists her arm and wrenches it out of his grasp. 

She stumbles back, looking around wildly to regain her bearings when she notices they’ve attracted an audience. And an astonished one. The werewolves are staring at the man in complete shock and wide eyes, but the slack jaws are reserved for her. Where there was hostility and ravenousness before is now a level of awe and reverence. They look at her up and down like they have no words to describe her or what she just did. Because she has no idea either. 

“Impossible,” someone breathes in the crowd.  

With the low murmurs rising within the crowd, Rey looks at them, confused, as she tries to pinpoint what’s happening with her. There’s nervous mutters and hushed whispers among the werewolves as they whisper between themselves, but Rey senses the temporary reprieve she got is beginning to wear off, as malevolence starts to rise again in the air. The masked man in black is still staring at her, transfixed, eyes trained on her body. 

“Who are you ?” 

Rey whips her head at him again, unsure if she had actually heard him speak the words out loud or if she just imagined it. The darkness that had been there before is completely gone. Instead is a genuine curiosity she can’t begin to understand or think about. He hasn’t moved one inch, hands clenching at his sides as he appears to suffer an internal battle inside his body. What is he staring at?

But then Rey sees it. Marked on her inner wrist, a crescent moon no larger than the nail on her index finger. Her heart slows. When she lifts her gaze to look at his wrist, as he examines it himself, there’s an identical one to match.

His eyes go from gold to whiskey in a split second, shocking Rey’s boots off, as he seems to take her in. She tries not to flinch under his gaze; something less than predatory and more gentle appears in those alluringly dark orbs of his. 

“It is you,” he breathes, a hint of awe to his words. 

This time Rey knows for sure he’d spoken aloud. But that voice. Her eyes shoot open with horror and recognition. She remembers it well. The voice that’s always telling her that he’s coming for her. The voice that’s always whispering her name like a broken promise in her ear. Her heart goes into her throat as she takes a nervous step back, not liking where this is going at all. 

Maybe she should run. That seems like a good idea. 

Rey’s jolted from her thoughts when a sudden commotion from somewhere in the crowd grabs everyone’s attention. She can smell the level of aggression and rising with every second and it pricks the hairs every hair on her exposed skin. Her breaths come slow, she’s finding it hard to breathe as she remembers exactly where she is. When she spares the man in black a look, she observes that his eyes have narrowed, he takes a step closer. 

It’s the moment she sees werewolves beginning to shift into their beast forms and the gruesome rearrangement of bone structure Rey finally decides she’s had enough. She’s in no mood to become a chew toy for a couple hundred angry werewolves. 

‘Screw it.’

Rey breaks off into a sprint. When she hears a cacophony of furious growls ripping through her ears a moment later, she knows she’s really in trouble. 

Chapter Text

Four minutes earlier: 

When he arrives on the scene, it’s far from what he initially expects to find. The moment he followed the chorus’ message across three miles of forest, he bounded across the frosted, nearly-solid earth, limbs contracting and the raw strength of his massive figure rippling through his powerful muscles. In this form, things are mostly hazy but he remembers every smell: the fresh grass, crisp bark of the pine trees. 

The fear. 

It’s distinct, so thick in the air that it coats the back of his mouth and leaves a potent taste on his tongue. Like most werewolves, the compulsion to seek out the source is no more hypnotic than a shark to blood. Drawn to it like magnets to the source. Usually the fear belongs to the prey’s last minutes of life. That much is clear when he arrives at the site of a ghastly car wreck and a crowd of wolves unleashing all hell on a small, bloody mass on the ground. 

The growl that rips through his throat vibrates through the delicate acoustical veil of the forest and silences the ruckus. When he shifts forms, they all fall in sync and automatically bear their necks.

He’s aware of the dominance he exudes, a source of masculine pride as his status as the Prime Ren, and Executioner. The fear ripples over the other wolves like winds across a vast field. They’re all thinking the same thing: why is he here for something as trivial as an execution. 

Normally, he doesn’t care for the killing of humans, it’s an everyday affair, nothing special. But this one piques his interest. 

“Primus Ren.” Krennic keeps his gaze on the ground, throat bobbing. 

Kylo regards the mess lying motionless on the ground. “Punishment is redundant if the human is already dead.” His eyes shine a lethal gold and it’s enough to make Krennic take a small step back, fists clenching at his side. 

“We kept her alive, as commanded.”

“Her?” Kylo takes a second look at the human, eyebrows raised. Up close, she seems even smaller than his first impression, which only increases his disbelief. He sniffs again, smelling the warmth of her blood bleeding through the hundreds of rips on her small body. Like most humans, the smell is plain, but there’s a spicy richness underneath it that he can’t place.  

“A little human girl did this?” Kylo gestures to the wrecked car and the nearly severed hand of a blond-haired wolf not a few meters away. He would be impressed if the reprehensibility of the situation wasn’t glaring. 

The rigidity of Krennic’s posture is a clear indicator of his humiliation. “She isn’t weak prey. She put up a fight, and nearly cut off the hands of two of my wolves.” In other words, they underestimated her. Krennic’s eyes flash a furious metallic green and the skin on his hand shifts into mud brown fur. Evidently the wolves took their rage out on the smallest kind of prey with a bite more venomous than a Gloydius Halys, Kylo muses. 

Kylo takes a few steps closer, eyes narrowed intently. The human’s body is small, thin, the swell of her hips narrow, her chest flat like a child’s. Anyone would assume she is one, but there’s the smell of maturity in her blood, like a girl close to attaining her majority. Perhaps eighteen or nineteen human years, he guesses.

Her bloodstained hair is matted to her head and her shredded clothes are crimson, flesh of her arms shredded like deer meat. The smell sends his eyes rolling back into his head, a hungry thirst that always arises after a near-kill coursing through him. 

It’ll be easy to finish her off, and she’s such a pitiful-looking thing, he’ll give her the courtesy of making her death quick. The malevolent smile that breaks across his lips is hidden behind the scarf concealing his face. 

“Take her,” he orders in Latin, signaling to the two wolves nearest to her. 

Previous notions already set hard in his mind, he can’t have predicted what happens next. 

Like a pitviper ready to spring, the girl digs her silver fanged-blade into the leg of the wolf nearest to her and kicks the hand of the other one off her chest. She rolls backwards, tucking her knees to her chest and spinning onto her feet in a perfectly-executed spin until she lands on her feet, swinging her dagger to ward the wolves off. They all stare at her like she’s a doe in headlights with silver horns. 

“Back off!” she shrieks, her voice edged by a melodious British accent. 

Thanisson spits out contemptuous jargon and it’s quite humorous to see the feral snarl on the girl’s face. If she had claws, she’d certainly be bearing them now. 

Enough of this farce. Before she can spring again, Kylo latches his taloned hand around her wrist, pushing into her mind to subdue her. 

“That’s enough.” 

The terror that he senses coursing through her is beyond intoxicating as she freezes in his grip. It sends a delicious thrill through his body, the animal in him preening as she reflexively jerks her head down in submission. She’s a tiny thing, barely to his shoulders. He roughly spins her around before she can get her bearings. He wants to look into the eyes of his prey, savor her fear, before he ends her life. 

He doesn’t expect to see a razor square jaw, a freckled face framed by chestnut hair with hazel almond eyes and a straight nose. She’s drenched in blood but he doesn’t notice. He stands transfixed. Those eyes. They cut right through him like pure silver and the instant she meets his gaze is when the unthinkable happens. 

The light that explodes in front of him is so bright that he can only liken it to staring directly at the sun. He grunts at the sudden tightness between his eyes as his inhuman vision clears. Except everything he sees exudes a brightness he’s never seen before. 

And the girl. The human. Her wide eyes are no longer hazel, but a shining gold matching his own. 

The wolves around them break out in astonished murmurs, an intense curiosity taking hold where there was once bloodlust and a thirst for revenge. Whatever thoughts he had of retribution evaporate from his brain like they were never there. All he can see is her. 

The figure that's been teasing him for years finally has a face to go with those haunting whispers, with a voice more harmonious than the sirens of Scandinavia, temptation incarnate as he sought refuge in his wolf form to keep them away. They toyed with him endlessly in the image of what he believed was a vixen leading him on a wild goose chase through a forest that never ends, and he never catches her. He’s always pulled from the dream before he has the chance.  

It was enough to drive any man insane, that tortuous repetition that never held any satisfying outcome as he bounded through the trees with dried saliva in his lungs, an acrid bitterness taking hold as his quandary seemed impossibly hopeless. 

She looks at her forearm, freckled tan skin, to see the mark of the Luna tattooed on her wrist — a small crescent moon with the Force marked inside. A sharp burning on his own skin reveals the same, and astonishment can’t begin to describe the emotions racing through his body all at once. 

He imprinted on her. A human. More than that, she has the rarified mark of the Luna Wolf. 

“It is you,” he finds himself saying aloud, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. Behind the blood and the dust that covers her face, he sees radiating fire. Sun. 

His words snap her out of whatever reverie she wandered off to, and her now-hazel eyes lock on him, fully round with recognition and glazed with fear. 

The sudden tightness in his chest shocks him. Where he once relished in the taste, the smell of her fear, he now wants to take it into himself, soothe her, hold her in his arms. He’s too distracted by her to notice the escalating mayhem around them until it’s too late, the air thick with the stench of hostility and rage, except it’s focused on an entirely new foe. 

In the split second he glances away, she’s taken a step back, beautiful eyes wide in terror like a deer in headlights. Her thoughts are an open book to him, ‘I need to run!’ 

No. He can’t let her run from him. 

But she’s off, faster than a mountain cougar desperately seeking solace in the dark. The animal in him is furious as he prepares to pursue her, but his attention lands on the three wolves already chasing after her. No doubt seeking the taste of her flesh and hearing the crunch of her throat between their jaws. He’s seen it countless times. 

Within three massive strides, he tackles the largest and lets out a snarl so vicious that the wolf actually whimpers in the most pathetic display of submission he’s ever seen from a pack wolf. But he ignores it and bounds forward, latching his teeth into the second wolf’s throat, not even caring that his claws have unsheathed and cut through fur, and throws him into the other. 

“Not one of you touches her!” Kylo bellows viciously with all the command he can muster, the volume of his baritone deep enough to ripple the waters of the Channel down to where it feeds the mouth of the Alaskan Gulf. He has no idea where the sudden ferocity comes from, only that he can’t let any harm come to the girl.  

He needs to catch her, and fast. 

Whatever chaos unfolding behind him is no more important than a speck of dirt on his boots. It all pales to her. He feels himself shifting to his beast form and tumbling after her, eyes narrowed and vision tunneled. His enhanced senses easily trace the silhouette of her retreating shape underneath the glow of fading moonlight, her scent choking out every other smell of the forest. 

He can hear her panting, her panicked whispers as she spots him gaining on her quickly. Her small human legs, while strong, are no match for his speed as he corners her at the base of a pine tree. Bereft of a weapon, her glazed eyes stare up at him, pleading, but defiant. 

“If you’re going to kill me, make it quick.”

Facing death and she’s still more radiant than the full moon, he thinks. By now his brain has split cleanly in half, thrust back and forth between the animal side that wants to snap his teeth in her throat, and the other that wants to pull her close and pepper her bloody face with kisses. It’s a dichotomy that brings him no solace as he only stares at her. Even more surprising is this realization:

He doesn’t want to kill her. 

She holds his gaze unflinchingly. For a human girl, she certainly emanates a strength beyond her small frame. It’s unique, admirable, so unlike most of her species that it's striking. He suddenly wants to know everything about her, learn where this strength came from. He buries his nose in her neck and she lets out a frightened yelp as she tenses. 

‘I won’t hurt you.’ 

Her muscles seem to relax under him as his words float into her open, but oddly sturdy mind. He starts to lick the dried blood off her face and the metallic taste is more bitter than he ever expects from a wound of prey. His mind is racing full of contradictions. Finish her off! She's weak! Help your mate, she's injured! He's being pulled in all directions and it's physically painful to focus on the one voice he wants to hear and end this plight. 

She’s pliable now. She’s weak from her wounds. This is normally the part where he carries out the kill. Yet all he wants to do is lick them all until there’s no blood left on her. He wants to shift into his human form and touch her. He wants take her here. The animal in him is begging for it, ready to fill her with his knot, mate her and fill her with his seed to plant a few pups in her belly.  

Thankfully the rational part of his brain, which has decided to break from tradition, pushes through and sharply reminds him that he can’t, not without the approval of the Council, as it is forbidden to have attachments to humans. Perhaps there can be exceptions in the cases of imprinting, but he doesn’t want to risk it. 

He pries himself away from her, licking her once more to remember the taste of her skin on his tongue. He very much longs to savor it for as long as he can. There’s some salt from her tears that he licks up and he nudges her neck. This new, gentle side of him is puzzling for sure and he is loath to admit that he doesn’t entirely hate this sudden weakness blooming in him. 

He needs some answers.  

Then he can decide what to do with her. 

‘Soon,’ the new voice in his head supplies. Soon he’ll be able to ravish her whenever he pleases, pleasure her, love her. 

Whatever the fuck that means for someone like him. 

‘I’ll come back for you, my little one.’

🌘

Rey jolts awake so abruptly that she sits upright. She’s lying on a bed of leaves, fresh dawn light pouring through the canopy of pine trees stretching as far as the heavens above her. At first she doesn’t realize her surroundings at all, this doesn’t look anything like Maz’s property. 

‘Did I really fall asleep out here?’ she ponders, shocked. 

Soon she recalls what happened. The wolves, the car wreck, the man from her dreams, all of it. Except she’s not dead with her throat ripped from her body, not in some dungeon rotting among fresh-kill, but fully dressed and partially shielded from the Alaskan morning frost against what appears to be a den of sorts. Almost like she simply fell asleep stargazing.

Was it just a dream? Was everything that happened all her imagination?

Except when she looks at her forearm and observes the small mark on her skin, a brand, coloring a small crescent moon on her body, she realizes with sinking dread that nothing about last night was a dream at all. It was as real as the living day. But what she doesn’t understand is why she’s still alive.

As she gets to her feet, she remembers with horror that she didn’t complete her errand run. 

Chapter Text

As she observes her surroundings, there’s a vibrant countenance to the features of each object that she never noticed before. She can only liken it as putting everything under a microscope and zeroing in to maximum power. 

The timing isn’t lost on her, how magnificently everything seems to erupt in bloom not twelve hours after surviving a wolf attack — as well as finally discovering the man, or creature, whose eyes she’s been seeing for months. A werewolf, apparently. As her thoughts drift to last night, the marking on her forearm seems to be burning her, and she scratches the skin around it as she hikes through the woods. 

It’s so small that one will hardly notice, but the pain is not unlike a massive oil burn. 

The errand. It comes back to Rey with the force of an anvil. 

In a panic, she pats her vest pockets. Miraculously, the amoxicillin’s still there, as well as the other bacta packets she purchased. That alone is a small relief. 

“This won’t take long at all,” she assures herself, desperately hoping that her luck doesn’t run out and she ends up walking into an ambush or something like that. The wolves left her alive and she has no idea why, but she would be naïve not to assume they have some ulterior motive for doing so. 

Because by all logic, she should be dead. 

She’s bereft of any landmarks until she arrives at the single road that cuts through the landscape for miles. As she listens intently, she cannot sense anything beyond the activities of diurnal creatures. 

D’acy’s home isn’t far up the road from Maz’s, maybe a mile or so, so she knows from scorched tree that's been split in half that she’s close. 

Her feet hurt, there’s no doubt that her calluses and blisters have split inside her shoes; by now most of her wounds have reduced to a dull sting she can ignore. Rey knows she’s not a pretty picture but she can worry about that later. Another observation of the sky concludes a pale streak of brightening sapphire near the horizon line in the distance. Sunup will be soon. She’ll have to be quick. 

D’acy’s small two-room cabin that sits precariously on the edge of a small cliff comes into view once she rounds the bend in the road, half-hidden underneath the thick blanket of ivy that’s all but consumed the building. Rey suspects it’s the one thing keeping the home from collapsing down the eroded hillside. 

She walks up the rotten steps that creak under her feet and knocks on the wired bear door. A haggard-looking D’acy peeks out a few moments later, eyebrow raised in what Rey thinks is disbelief. 

“I don’t expect payment,” Rey croaks by way of greeting, her throat hoarse. 

“I didn’t expect you to come at all,” D’acy responds icily. “I’m impressed that you still came.”

Rey only gives a small shrug, and that’s when the older woman takes in her disheveled state for real. The blood-matted clothes, rips and tears in the fabric and the fresh scars that are indicative of claw marks. When it settles in, her eyebrows knit together. 

“They got you, didn’t they?” D’acy queries knowingly, voice low. 

Rey gives a nod. “Ran me off the road into a tree. I only woke up about a half hour ago and walked the rest of the way here.”

The woman shakes her head wearily, her eyes somehow older as the weight of emotion settles in. “You’re either foolishly brave or bravely foolish to keep doing this,” she says as Rey presses the bacta packets and the medicine into her cold hands. 

“Probably both.” 

“Perhaps, and you still have a conscience. That’s rare to find these days.” D’acy regards Rey with something close to respect. “And unlike most young girls, you’re not naïve. You have your wits about you.” She presses four dollars into Rey’s shaking hand. Which is more than Rey expected. “But wits aren’t always enough. Remember that, young one.”

The woman closes the door before Rey turns to leave, but she’s too stunned to move for the first three moments. The dollars are nothing but empty mass in her palm but the weight of the old woman’s words is suffocating. It unconsciously revives an old memory in Rey, and she’s thrust back to the train when she met Kira. 

She remembers the older girl’s words very clearly. 

‘ You’re young, you’re pretty, and you still have all your limbs attached so you obviously have your wits about you. You have goals or something like that, or else you wouldn’t be on this train, though you don’t strike me as the optimistic wishing type.’

Thinking of Kira, another girl as jaded and miserable as she, trying to escape a hellhole made of polluted air, harsh sands and mutated humans who roam free, twists a knife deep through Rey. Two strangers crossed paths by sheer chance with the same goal, yet not even three hours after, only one managed to stay alive. 

She still wonders at night whether she should have been the one to die. Or whether had she done something different, Kira could have lived longer. Questions that she can’t answer but only dwell upon when she tosses and turns on her bed, too restless to sleep. Every now and then, such intrusive thoughts are chased away by a presence she’s grown accustomed to seeing. A presence who, for better lack of trying, has part of a face to go with it. 

Rey shakes her head to clear her mind of such depressing thoughts. She completed her first mission. Now she has to get home before a certain little boy wakes up and finds her gone. 

🌘

Ten hours earlier…

Kylo’s hardly cognizant of the hungry haze that surrounds him when he emerges from the trees. Several werewolves flinch away as he passes, critical and speculative eyes zeroed on his massive frame that seems to soak up the atmosphere of an entire room. As if they can sense the change in their master that has taken root. 

The others he accompanied have dispersed to their dens, bitterly quiet about tonight’s failed conquest. He doesn’t tell them that he allowed the girl to escape, he doesn’t need to. Let them lick their wounds and nurse their bruised pride over the ass-kicking she generously bestowed upon them earlier tonight, and they’ll kindly leave him to the complex web of thoughts that his instincts have trapped him in. 

It won’t take long for word to get out, and when it does, the others will be walking with their ears pinned down for moons. Every once in a while, he senses their chaotic strings of thoughts swirling around like funnel clouds. He’s quite efficient at reducing the chaos to a dull buzz, but tonight he’s unable to focus on anything else, as his mind is consumed by thoughts of her. 

The human. The girl. 

It’s inexplicable. He had all intentions of ending her existence the instant he learned of her until the moment he looked into her eyes and everything seemed to implode on itself.

Imprinted. He rolls his jaw to dispel the bile that forms in his mouth. Leave it to him to ruin one of the most sacred and honored bonds in existence by imprinting on a human, for fuck’s sake. The very idea ruffles his fur in all directions. Every time he thinks of her, there’s a strange flutter in his chest that opens a door to a part of him he sealed off when he killed Ben Solo. And the fact that he doesn’t know whether to be repulsed or intrigued by the prospect is bothering him to no end. 

“Ren!”

Cardo’s raspy voice carries over from where he stands, just outside the threshold of the main lodge. Flashing eyes of malevolent amber leer at Kylo, a grim countenance to Cardo’s normally-cold exterior. He knows what that means. The Council of Elders is housed inside, and there’s no doubt that Palpatine is gravely displeased. 

“The Supreme Leader wishes to speak with you.”

Kylo bites down the curse that sits on the tip of his tongue, quickly assessing all the routes this can go. The best course of action is to keep Palpatine in his favor, and he has to be truthful enough about the situation to appease the werewolf leader. Pure falsehood is lethal, the Supreme Leader can see through deception with his eyes closed, and Kylo’s in no mood for the painful alternative, having his thoughts ripped from his mind like an electrical cord. 

Through a skill perfected by years of conditioning, he schools his emotions together under lock and key. When facing Palpatine, you must demonstrate nothing less than absolute control of yourself. Never exhibit anything but resolution. 

Sinister wrath seems to await him the moment he enters the lodge, and takes in the scene he expected. His Knights and Krennic are already kneeling with their noses on the ground, the shame radiating off of them in waves. Palpatine, a werewolf more than a century old with deeper roots in the Old Bloodline than any other lycan alive, is flanked by his loyal counsel. A predator of the highest caliber, Palpatine is no better than the wolf who likes to play with his food by dangling it on a string in front of his eyes, let it run free for the briefest moment before staking the blow that kills it. Slowly. Standing a few feet away with a practiced look of disinterest is none other than Kylo’s grandfather, Darth Vader. 

“Kylo Ren, we’re pleased that you could join us,” Palpatine drawls in that voice of his that’s been plagued by rot and age. Kylo briefly raises his eyes to see the small hooded man in a black robe, nearly hidden by the room’s dim lighting. His back is turned, facing the wall and he’s hunched over the cane his gnarly fingers are wrapped around like coiling snakes. 

Only a fool would mistake Palpatine’s shriveling stature for weakness. The image he portrays of a frail old man is a convincing one, and if Kylo’s interactions with the man were limited, which he would honestly prefer, he would be predispositioned to the uneducated gossip from the Western Reaches. The man exuding the strength of the werewolf is a weak, senile old man nearing a century of life. 

The power Palpatine radiates isn’t purely physical. It’s ideological, mental. The air around him is overwhelmed by the darkness, and it seeps into your pores until it’s all you can see, taste, touch, and feel. It’s infectious, like the virus that mutates weak humans into the US government’s experiment gone wrong. 

To be near Palpatine is like bearing your soul for the Devil’s messenger to cut open and dissect for an equally-ravenous audience to witness. Usually for Kylo, this gives him no trepidations, he’s Palpatine’s most prized warrior and he eagerly guzzles the darkness that the Alpha Prime feeds to him like the blood of prey after a fresh kill. Now, however, Kylo is anything but steady. 

“Your Knights informed me of tonight’s events.” Any fool would mistake the nonchalant purr of Palpatine’s tone for calmness, but it tells Kylo that the details haven’t been shared yet. The Alpha Prime’s disdain for humans cannot be overstated, although no one really knows where the hatred that burns through him like wildfire came from. Palpatine slowly turns to face the kneeling warriors. 

“Krennic.”

The man jerks his head up on reflex. His eyes widen somewhat before he quickly recovers.  

“Tell us what happened!” 

The ass-licking lieutenant’s throat gives a small bob, the fear rolling off of him thicker than the morning haze that rolls down from the northeastern mountains. It’s a stark contrast of emotion from the elder werewolf, who normally maintains a cold and calm demeanor.

Through a jaw more tight than a corkscrew with a forehead drenched in sweat, Krennic carefully recalls everything that happened until Kylo himself arrived in minute, but selective detail. 

“Am I to understand a human girl killed two of my wolves,” Palpatine snarls, “injured three, and she was allowed to live?”

The six kneeling wolves are studiously silent, for there’s no answer they can gave that Palpatine will accept. Kylo continues to keep his thoughts calm and serene, which proves to be a challenge the longer he tries to drive the girl from his mind. 

“If my best warrior is unable to kill a human,” Palpatine raves, turning wrathful eyes on Kylo, “perhaps a lesson is in order —” 

“I let her escape.”

The audacity of him to interject comes from a level of bravery he doesn’t know he had, or just appeared in the last few minutes. 

The silence that follows is creeping with fury, it’s enough to cast an electric charge over his fur. The astonished stares of his Knights bear into him like daggers. When he dares to glance up into the gazes of his superiors, barely concealed disgust leers back at him. Glowing bronze eyes stare him down underneath a deep black hood as Palpatine stands still for a heartbeat. 

Then Kylo feels the pain tearing through his mind; this is the precipice of agony meant to punish, a preliminary taste of what the Alpha Prime plans for him for his perceived insolence. But Kylo doesn’t wince or beg, he has experienced far worse. The nerves in his body constrict but he stays silent. 

“I presume you have a reason for not destroying the human when you had the chance?” Palpatine demands through barely concealed fury. 

Kylo looks straight into Palpatine’s eyes. “I imprinted on her,” he says plainly, “what’s more”—he pulls back his sleeve to bare his wrist —“she shares my mark.”

He expects the shocked silence; the most unfeeling of the Elders expressing pure astonishment and disbelief at his claim. The small ripple he feels is the first emotion Kylo’s felt from Vader since this began. The skepticism is justified: imprinting, while well-known, is an extremely rare phenomenon that only occurs once every hundred years. It cannot be predicted and the two chosen ones are selected by fate, as legends said. 

However, there are zero known instances of a werewolf imprinting on a human of all things. 

The silence drags on, the only ones he needs to really convince are his grandfather and Palpatine. They can feel the truth behind his words; they need only reach out to see it for themselves. An odd note of calm seems to settle in the Supreme Leader’s posture as he relaxes his shoulders. 

“Step forward,” is all Palpatine says after a moment. 

It’s a calculated inquiry. Kylo knows what he wants, and he withstands the old werewolf’s shriveled, cold hand wrap around his skin in a grip betraying his strength. He opens his mind, keeping several doors selectively closed and locked, for the Alpha Prime wants to see it all through his own veiled eyes. No doubt he observes how Kylo’s brain has obsessively conjured up images of the girl, more appreciative than he would have liked. Eventually, Palpatine’s lips curl into a mild sneer. 

“Most intriguing,” he murmurs, and releases Kylo’s hand. The young Ren is nearly grateful for the loss of contact as he reaches for his belt where he stored the dagger she’s lost.  

“What’s more”— Kylo presents the weapon his grandfather. “She was using this when I found her.”

The sudden expression of emotion that floods Vader’s face takes Kylo by great surprise. His normally-stoic grandfather takes the weapon and inspects it, something glinting in his green eyes that betrayed emotions he’d thought were long buried. It’s a reminder of a time long ago, a past that he’d chosen to leave behind, back when he was Anakin Skywalker. 

“The girl had this in her possession?”

“Slayed two of our own with it and significantly injured several of Krennic’s men,” Kylo replies, a bizarre note of pride creeping into his voice. He recalls how effortlessly the girl had wielded the dagger against the wolves; digging into the memories of his subordinates depicted a warrior using a weapon forged long before her time with refined skill, if it was made just for her. It deeply pains the predator in him, but the beast itself is preening.  

“Most interesting,” Palpatine repeats after a moment, and there’s a newfound level of curiosity in his voice that tells Kylo he’s been caught musing. “And the girl shares your mark.” Hungry orange-rimmed eyes drop to Kylo’s forearm where the tattoo is now concerned. 

“Yes.” Kylo cannot put into words what happened when they touched, perhaps it was their future or something else entirely. He only knows that when he had her hand in his, caressing the unrealistically smooth texture of her skin, everything made sense in the world. 

“What do you know about this… human?” The Alpha Prime can’t keep the disgust out of his voice when he says the word. 

“Not enough, I was unable to look far into her mind,” Kylo admits. In his defense, he had been very distracted at the time deciding whether he wanted to sink his teeth in her throat or kiss her senseless. “She ran from me, I chased her, I was able to see that she’s killed with this” — he gestures to the dagger — “many times before. I ignored my instincts to follow her in favor of seeking your counsel on the matter, Supreme Leader.”

Palpatine hums approvingly. “A wise decision. As you know well, the association with lesser beings is… intolerable. However, this rare, blessed occasion requires a small… break with the rules.” A sinister smile breaks across his marred, ashen face, and he turns towards his council once more. Warped smiles appear on their molten-looking faces that are near carbon copies. “You have imprinted on this human, so follow your instincts. Indulge your connection as you see fit,” he goes on, his smile showing his rotting teeth. “Do whatever it takes to make her yours… but be discreet.” 

In other words, Palpatine is granting him permission to act on his volatile impulses, Kylo knows. The small voice in his head that’s been nagging him nonstop about the human seems to roar in ecstasy, and the first thing it suggests to do is to tear the forest apart tree by tree until he finds his mate. 

He has some pieces of her scent dancing around his nose. It’s as good of a lead as any. But he meticulously keeps his voice devoid of any emotion. 

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

The Prime Alpha nods once more, and lowers himself into his chair through a rehearsed display of frailty. “You are all dismissed,” he declares, waving his hand. The other werewolves rise to their feet and file out, Kylo has never been more relieved of anything in his entire life. 

The muted revulsion permeates from Krennic’s pelt as the older wolf passes; the other Knights give Kylo long, apprehensively-considerate looks. He has no time for their trepidations, but he catches Anakin’s eye as he prepares to depart. 

The older werewolf’s features are twisted into the ghost of a smile, pride and approval in his gaze, but there’s something dark and ominous lying behind them. Kylo returns the smile in a mirror image of his grandfather before leaving. 

Chapter Text

By the time Rey manages to find her way back to the shop by way of landmark navigation, it’s past sunup and most of the morning frost has glistened over. Every one of her limbs aches or burns, and it’s by sheer force of will that she keeps going. 

Seeing the lodge come into view is nothing short of a relief. The myriad of problems that she’ll have to unwind is enough to pound her head like a hammer, so for the fleetest of moments, she wants to pretend that it was another night she spent running errands and she had a particularly bad bout of sleep deprivation that caused her hallucinate. Another nightmare that held no real meaning. 

She uses her key to unlock the front door, tiptoeing quietly across the floorboards, and shutting it behind her. The shop is dark and silent, except for the sound of her breathing and occasional creaking. Rey can’t shrug off the feeling that she’s being watched, even in her own home. She hates it with a burning passion. 

She’s praying that BB hasn’t already awakened to find her missing. She assured the boy that she would be here when he got up, and she doubts she has the emotional bandwidth to explain what transpired the night before and what happened. The evidence is clear on her ripped and bloody clothes. 

“Rey!!”

She doesn’t get far past the threshold when a small mass comes barreling into her lower body with enough force to make her step backwards. 

“Whoa!”

BB wraps his skinny little arms around her waist with his face buried in her stomach. “You’re here!”

A small smile graces Rey’s lips. “Of course. I said I would be.” She awkwardly pats his head and ruffles his red locks, the little boy bouncing on his heels, full of energy. He pulls his head back to grin up at her with sparkling eyes. 

“Thanks for being here,” he says with a smile bright enough to light up the sun. It’s enough to make Rey’s heart melt into wax. 

Something as small as her presence alone makes him so happy, Rey wonders how many times the little boy was left disappointed. It leaves a small ache in her heart, knowing the bitter feel of emptiness carving out pieces of her insides. 

Despite a run-in with the wolves, Rey made it back alive, despite all odds out of her favor. She doesn’t know if she should be happy or uneasy. 

“Of course,” she says absently in response to BB. 

“So, what are we doing today?” he asks eagerly, taking a step back. Rey opens her mouth to give a response but she’s distracted by the sight of BB’s smile dropping. He takes in her disheveled state for the first time, eyes widening in horror. “Wait.” He takes her hand in his small one. “What happened, are you okay?” 

Her instinct is to brush it off as nothing, a simple accident, but Rey knows that BB is smarter than that. He has enough sense to know what wolf claws look like. So she’s honest with him. 

“It’s a long story, BB.” She gives him a weary look. 

She knows she’s glossing over the seriousness of the situation, but she can’t wind up the little boy too much with worry right now. She suspects he has enough on his plate, Maz hasn’t returned yet, and even she doesn’t completely understand the significance of what occurred the night before.

The wise eight-year-old scraps a patch of oxidized blood from her sleeve, big blue eyes filled with anxiety. She can tell he wants to pepper her with a million questions, but she doesn’t have the energy nor the ability to response. She gives BB her best supplicating look. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” he says finally, burying his face in her anbdomen again and holding on like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. 

The warmth that blossoms in her chest is foreign, searing, and it ripples over her bones like the soothing sensation of hot water. Rey can’t fight the giant smile that breaks across her face, the feeling of being wanted by a little boy who she barely knows and who barely knows her back. She wraps her arms around him and holds him tight, wanting to savor this sweet moment for just a little longer. 

“Once I wash up and change, we’re going to finish assembling the electrical generators we left in the workshop.”

🌘

Rey already suspected that she would look like a disaster, but seeing it in the mirror as she stripped bare was a different story. 

Her skin looks like shredded meat, dozens of lacerations cutting through her flesh at all angles and locations, gashing claw marks slicing through the skin on her abdomen, thighs, chest, arms, seemingly anywhere they could find. Oddly enough, the two locations bereft of any tearing are her neck and shins. Perhaps they looked for the places it would hurt the most when they let their fury into her as if she were a punching bag. Her skin is splotched by bruises in various stages of swelling. Some have already started to heal into the green-yellow while others, the larger ones, are deep purple and blue. 

Considering a bunch of bloodthirsty werewolves tried to make a meal out of her and she has this to show for it without any missing limbs, Rey can safely say that she’s made history.  

But she’s still not sure if she should be happy or uneasy. 

There’s barely enough hot water in the shower for her to let the heat pelt her sore muscles, into her hair and over her eyes, down her shoulders, as it circles in the drain tainted by dirt, gravel, pieces of glass, and dried blood from her hair. Through blurry eyes, whether from the pure water, or tears, Rey watches the evidence of her ordeal flow down the drain into the piping. 

She wants to forget it all. She wants to forget that she met her monster for the first time. The monster who, if she remembers what Rose told her, is the so-called Supreme Leader’s executioner. He certainly looks the part. 

She wants to forget the paralyzing terror that nailed through her spine as she looked into the eyes of a giant werewolf looking like he wanted to consume her. Before that, she had no idea that the eyes of beasts could carry such humanity, yet when she closes her eyes, wills her heart to calm, and remembers, she saw those two gold rings burning with human emotion: rage, confusion… lust. The last one is more perplexing than anything else. 

Rey has to discard her ripped clothes and jacket, the latter of which is a shame since it was a gift from Maz. Once she gets dressed, she goes downstairs to find BB in the small kitchenette with two hot mugs in his small hands. He must’ve climbed onto the counter to get them out of the cupboards. 

“This is for you,” he says holding the mustard yellow mug out to Rey. “It’s ginger tea. My daddy used to make it for me when I wasn’t feeling well.” 

Her heart nearly melts for the second time, this little boy who’s rise beyond his years, trying to make her feel better. She already feels some of the dread fading away like a bad memory, and she’s content to forget it for a few blissful moments. 

“Thank you, BB,” she says sincerely. 

The little boy beams with all the sunlight on his face. “Of course. Now,” he exclaims conspiratorially, rubbing his hands together with a peppy smile, “let’s go fix those generators.”  

🌘

They go well into the afternoon in companiable silence. Approaching the thralls of winter means that the short daylight period is getting even shorter, sunset comes around four in the afternoon and it doesn’t take long after for the sun-streaked pale pink sky to blend into a mysterious indigo flecked by silver stars.

But they are safe in the yard, with a wired face well over ten feet tall to keep any straying wildlife out. Rey hums the tune of a small Latin lullaby she remembers from her youth as she works, BB occasionally regaling her with tales of how he and his father would go hunting in the woods for game. It was always the best part of his day, BB claims, as he was eager to join his father on his daily trips and teach him to be a man. 

Rey’s heart would be bitter, stirred by the envy of having the blessing of a father willing to take her out on excursions to teach her how to survive, learning together, but she can’t bring herself to be resentful of the young boy. Instead, she finds herself smiling as he waves his hands animatedly to simulate how his father shot the elk as it fruitlessly tried to stay alive before being pierced through the side by a metal bullet. 

They go inside around two in the afternoon for lunch. While BB contentedly eats in the back kitchenette, Rey does a meticulous count of the shop’s inventory in the back room, hoping to ease the sting at the back of her throat with a distraction. She notes that everything is in place, nothing out of the ordinary, which pleases her greatly. 

Sudden wood creaking over the floor of the front room pricks her ears sharply and she jerks her chin up. BB is still in the back eating his meal, blissfully unaware, thank the Maker. She opens the door slightly ajar, poking an eye out and quickly scanning the room. She notes that the front door isn’t completely shut like she left it. 

That means someone is in the shop. 

Perhaps it’s her mysterious werewolf pursuer. She’s more than willing to put a few bullets in his massive head. 

She slides the shotgun from underneath the countertop and holsters it with a satisfying crack. 

She has no qualms about shooting some werewolf brains all over the wall. 

Creeping across the floor, she carefully pries the door open, the hinges squeaking once. Rey squints, trains her ears to the room carefully. She can’t hear anything, other than the outside wildlife, but four experimental moments later she hears what sounds like a sharp crack of a wooden plank. When she inhales, she smells dull pinecones and charcoal. Not a pleasant odor. But it doesn’t smell like a bear or any kind of animal that she’s familiar with. She surveys the one room shop again, eyes peering through the furniture, shelves and other displays with hawk eyes.  

“Whoever’s in here, you have five seconds to reveal yourself before I start shooting,” she calls out, and she unloads the magazine so she can shoot a blank warning shot. She knows Maz won’t be happy if she puts bullet holes in the wall.

“One…”

Nothing. 

“Two… Three.”

She cocks the gun loudly. 

“Four…”

“Wait!”

A man darts out from behind the countertop with his hands in the air. “Wait, please don’t shoot!” he pleads softly. 

Rey has the shotgun aimed at his chest. There’s no ammunition but he doesn’t need to know that. “Who are you, and why are you trespassing here? The shop is closed.”

“I’m sorry, I was just looking for Maz,” he apologizes lowly, eyes on the floor. “I was told that she owns this shop.” His face is concealed by the depths of his sweatshirt hood as he avoids her eyes. 

His voice sounds familiar; Rey cocks her head to the side. “Take off your hood,” she orders shortly, gesturing with the firearm. He swiftly complies; Rey sees soft dark eyes and glossy brown skin. 

“You!” she exclaims in recognition. That’s why she remembers him; he approached her at Ackbar’s a few days ago. No wonder the room smelled strange when she entered the shop; that was a werewolf scent. Odd that it not be as repulsive as the ones she’s used to; normally in public they all smell like filthy tick-ridden dogs. 

“Please don’t shoot,” he pleads, hands up in surrender as if placating a wild animal.

“I thought I told you to stay away from me!” Rey hisses, finger curled around the trigger. 

“I had to make sure you were okay,” he emphasizes. “I saw you got away from Ren and I needed to make sure that you didn’t get hurt. I promise I don’t want any trouble.”

The sheer number of implications laced in that statement is too high for Rey to take in all at once, and she scoffs loudly. This can of worms seems to have no bottom in sight. “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that,” she spits. “I almost got my throat ripped out last night!”

At this he visibly cringes and squeezes his fists together; his reaction surprises Rey greatly. He doesn’t seem angry, only disappointed and resigned. 

“Look, I promise to explain, just”—His wide eyes train on the shotgun. “Can you put the gun away, please?”

Rey is taken aback by the naked fatigue and flat honesty in his voice. She studies him intently for a few moments, not moving. He is young, probably in his early twenties, almond eyes weary, sad, and she sees the desperation. Of course she can see it; she’s identified it in herself and hundreds of other people before. His clothes are disheveled, very much so, there’s holes and rips and splotches of dirt. The corner of his lip twitches down as his gaze drops, in a demonstration of deference that Rey can’t believe is coming from a werewolf. 

So she listens to her gut, and slowly lowers the shotgun. 

The man puts his hands down and sighs with relief, an immense weight lifted off her shoulders. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. He goes to approach her but she jerks the gun up quick enough for him to get the message. 

“If you’re lying to me, I’ll blow your brains all over the wall,” Rey warns menacingly. 

Now the man stares at her blankly, like he can’t believe her, before he nods. “I promise I’m not lying.”

‘Promises don’t mean anything,’ Rey thinks harshly.  

The man lets out a huff after a moment, seeing the savage look on her face, but he sounds impressed. “You’re really tough for a girl,” he remarks. 

Rey can’t tell if that’s supposed to be a compliment, so she says nothing and narrows her eyes. 

“I’m Finn,” he continues lamely, trying at an introduction. When his lips curl into a tiny smile, Rey sees a sparkle in his eyes. It surprises her. 

“I’m Rey,” she replies. 

🌘

He’s been utterly restless since the previous night, angrily pacing his den with an ache in his chest and a searing pain settling in between his eyes. He fought tooth and nail to regain control of his thoughts that are determined to run away from him. Run towards her, no matter how much he tries to ignore her. The fury itself is maddening and he wishes to sink his teeth in something, anything, to rid himself of the pain. The pull that is screaming at him to search the forest and destroy everything in his path until he found her. 

All day, he’d been aching to destroy, to maim, to kill, so that is precisely what he did when he went on a hunt with his Knights shortly before the sun rose. In his wolf form, he laid in wait within the shadows, piercing yellow eyes penetrating the nighttime veil for unsuspecting prey. There was the usual, a few rabbits, an elk or two, but none of them had satisfied his rage-driven lust. The real treat was a human male who wandered too far into the grounds. Meaty prey, mature, but he yielded too easily when six ravenous wolves descended on him, seeking his throat and blood. 

They tore into him, leaving little more than a few ribs and the remains of his spinal cord behind. Kylo licked his paws and pelt to rid himself of the human filth. 

It hadn’t satisfied him either; if anything it left him more empty than before. It had only been a few hours and the threads that held him together seemed to unravel completely before him. 

The idea of being bound to something as feeble and inconsequential as a human is unfathomable to him. Everything he’s been trained to accept and believe. It’s a proven fact that human females are among the weakest creatures on earth after the young. Yet he’s seen the girl. The fire in her eyes burns with a strength that could be mistaken for werewolf. 

As he sits alone by the fire, hands clasped together, elbows rested on his thighs, he’s too absorbed by the turmoil devouring from the inside to notice that his grandfather has approached him, no doubt after observing his extreme distance from the others. 

“What ails you, grandson?”

Kylo doesn’t tear his gaze away from the smoldering embers. “I’m conflicted.” In a rare show of vulnerability, he removes his leather glove and rolls up his sleeve. The small tattoo which had been his marker since birth, seems more like an iron brand than ever. Because it’s permanently tied him to a human. 

“You’re troubled by what’s happened.” It’s not a question, but an observation. The older werewolf takes a seat next to the younger were and watches Kylo intently through his dark-rimmed blue eyes.

“Like I’m being torn apart,” Kylo murmurs darkly, a wave of more intrusive thoughts entering his mind. Thoughts concerning the girl, and the many ways he wants to end this unclean pull he has towards her. 

He can’t even begin to put into words the hailstorm of feelings he’s been experiencing these last several hours. Every instinct he has tells him to tear the forest down until he finds her, but where the conflict emerges is what to do with her when he finds her. He can’t decide whether he wants to rip her throat out and eat it for laughs, or drag her to his den by her hair and mate her. When he visualizes her face, that determined set to her jaw and defiance in her eyes as she glared at him, he sees the strength and power she exudes without even realizing it, and wants it for himself. On cue, his cock stirs with an erection grinding hard against his pants, a sensation he can’t even name rousing within his soul. A primal urge he has never experienced before, the want, the need to possess and protect all at once. 

He wants to know everything about her. What her name is, where she comes from, how many freckles are on her face, what she tastes like, all of it. More than anything he wants to know where she managed to find his grandfather’s weapon, which had thought to have been lost decades earlier in a time long forgotten.

The consternation must show on his face, because Anakin gives him a thoughtful look. “You’re fascinated by her.” 

Once again, it’s phrased as a statement, not a question.  

Kylo’s instinct is to recoil, harboring any sentiments towards a human outside of repulsion, but he’s never been good at concealing his thoughts from his grandfather. Anakin has always been able to see through him when no one else could. 

“I…” He swallows rage and humiliation down in the form of bile. “I wish I could say otherwise,” Kylo grits out through a wired jaw. The anger swirling in him is thick enough for anyone to choke on. “I want to say I hold nothing but contempt towards a human of all things…” But I can’t. Because it won’t be true. 

Kylo prefers control; it has been hammered into him since the day he joined the First Order pack, to lose control is to lose an asset of strength. So when he loses it to forces he cannot understand, much less a small human girl of all things, it infuriates him. This human has no idea the turmoil she has created and for that he loathes her. 

The fact that his inner self thinks there’s something wrong with his hatred only angers him more. 

Apparently sensing Kylo’s tumultuous thoughts, Anakin gives him a smile that could be mistaken for kindness. He places a grandfatherly hand on his shoulder.  

“I can feel your conflict from here, and it is completely misplaced.” Kylo looks at him in surprise. “You imprinted on the girl. It cannot be helped that your feelings toward her will change.” Anakin’s lips curl into a sly smile. “And from what you’ve claimed, she is rare among her species. It’s perfectly normal that she’d intrigue you.”

The unspoken ‘She intrigues all of us ,’ hangs low in the air. Kylo would be a fool not to realize Palpatine’s budding interest in the situation after originally dismissing the girl’s escape as an embarrassment. The appearance of an old weapon with deep roots only added another level of strangeness that wasn’t lost on the three werewolves.

“At the end of the day, she is to be your mate. Don’t fight the conflict; use it. Let your emotions fuel your strength.” Anakin’s face is stern. “But don’t let them consume you and prevent you from what need to be done.”

Kylo nods, uninterested in another lecture of duty and tradition that he’s already heard before. Anakin leaves him to his devices shortly after, so he goes into the woods to hunt. The girl remains fresh on his mind as she has all but consumed his thoughts. 

He supposes his grandfather’s right. The girl is an anomaly on several scales with the added bonuses of not only being his soulmate, but receiving the blessing of the Luna mark. From the conversation he shared with Anakin, it’s obvious that he holds the same curiosity as the others. 

Initially, he’d been less than inclined to pursue anything with this human, regardless of the fact that she seems to be his other half, written in the stars. He huffs at the thought and swallows his disgust. And the way Palpatine suggested it made him even less interested in the girl at all. 

But if Anakin deems it well, then Kylo supposes there won’t be any real shame to his name. He trusts his grandfather’s judgment, and besides. If the stories are correct, a very similar occurrence happened with his grandmother years prior, even if the circumstances were different. 

Content with his resolve, Kylo rises to his feet. 

Chapter Text

The afternoon forest is calm, silent, waiting, as if it senses its deadliest predator impatiently waiting for the moment when the lavender-gold light fades behind the mountains in a wall of indigo flecked by silver stars. The winds that blow from the northeastern peaks are muted, but every once in a while they catch the branches of the fluffy coniferous trees and whistle through mournfully. More muted compared to the chorus of wolf howls that have gone silent in preparation for the summit in one day’s time. 

The Summit’s merely a formality, he knows, another one of many calculated charades that Palpatine puts on. It’s all a faceted image that the cretin projects, a respected patriarch who upholds the ancient traditions as his many predecessors. It’s a story Kylo remembers concisely from his puphood, but in his opinion has been overly glorified. Hiding it for what it really is, a show, a projection of power. 

As a Knight of Ren, Kylo’s exempt from the preparations; he took an oath swearing himself to the Alpha Prime, he can’t seek it out for himself under the new law. 

His eyelid ticks. 

Not that it matters. He’s no gloryhound like some of the wolves he considers brethren. Whispers and thoughts from several others packs detail meager interests in taking part in the Rite. Foolish and suicidal. Kylo has no interest in engaging in the Rite of Combat, and besides, to risk such an uncalculated move in a grandiose way is borderline reckless, as his grandfather has advised him not once but three times now.

“Patience,” he emphasizes. For he still has much more to acquire, more to conquer as the Prime Ren than as the Supreme Leader. 

Ren’d unlike most weres in the sense that he has never had the appetite for conventional, supreme power. It’s true that he enjoys the thrill of dominating his enemies, watching the light leave their fear-filled eyes as he rips the life out of them slowly, surely, and painfully. The sensation of their blood splattering his pelt, tasting the coppery, metallic tang on his tongue gives him a high greater than anything else. Perhaps it’s the process of the kill, not the kill itself, that makes the adrenaline pump through his powerful muscles and send his eyes rolling in the back of his head, aching for more. 

No, he prefers his own objectives, and Palpatine all but lets him indulge in his cravings for destruction as the Primus Ren and Executioner. As long as he remains loyal, serves the Alpha Prime’s needs, he can let his paws run red and stain his teeth with puny human flesh as he pleases. 

But even the strongest weres have their Achilles’ heel. Cardo, his Knight, has a weakness for his mate. Anakin’s is his deceased wife, Kylo’s grandmother; the mere mention of her is enough to rattle his unshakable façade of stone. Plagueis, the previous Alpha Prime, was too cocky. Kylo has yet to discover Palpatine’s, for the process is akin to finding a material deficiency in an iron wall through the naked eye. Soon, though, he’ll find it, and exploit it for his on ends. Dangerous and lethal, but what is life without a little thrill? For in the old man’s words, even the most powerful have their own weaknesses. 

Which is why Kylo’s currently in the process of seeking his new weakness out. 

A weakness he’d rather not have in the first place. 

From where he sits atop the cliff in his werewolf form, ears pricked, senses alight, he surveys the vast landscape of colorful forest. Searching for a small, seemingly inconsequential thing in a haystack, he surmises. His prey that he has been irrevocably bonded to for the rest of his life. 

A prey that he must seek out alone. 

This prey is unconventional. Unlike most humans, she is no doe, no fawn scavenging through the forest who jumps when a stick falls and breaks. No, she’s a mountain viper who will bear her fangs at the slightest hint of trouble. It goes against everything he’s been conditioned to expect from human females, but he knows not to underestimate her. He’s seen enough of the trouble she single-handedly causes to know that. 

Her scent is but a dull buzz at the back of his mind, lost in the winds, and the only way to find her by nose is for her to stand downwind. No, he has to try something different. 

Utilize a tool he’s never tried to use before. Because up until a day ago, he was sure that it was gone. Nothing but a dark swampland incapable of housing even the smallest hint of life. 

But it seems as though even the blackest place could house one fragmented blossom of light, even if the environment it is determined to thrive in wants to see it destroyed. 

She’s a human, so whatever connections she has, they must have roots in the city. His gaze wanders to the multicolored blocks that sit at the base of the channel, the last wisps of sunset light casting a flaming glow on the imposing grey mountain face towering over them. 

She killed two wolves in the lot of a human pharmacy. That’s his first stop.  

🌘

Rey plays the dutiful host and lets Finn in the back room where BB is chomping down the last bits of his sandwich. He joyfully tells Rey that it’s the best sandwich he’s had since he got to Juneau, which makes Rey blush, and she finds herself humorously wondering how the hell she’s allowed herself to be so swayed by the compliments of an eight-year-old. Perhaps it’s because BB is happiness and innocence and she wants to soak it in as much as she can. Maker knows she hasn’t understood what it looks like until now. 

It takes less than five seconds for BB to turn his attention on the newcomer. He gives Finn a once-over and points a finger at him. 

“Who is this?”

“This is…” Rey waves her hand in the air, waiting for the man in question to answer. 

“Uh, I’m Finn.” The dark-skinned man smiles at the little boy. “Nice to meet you.”

BB leans across the countertop, brow furrowed as he looks Finn up and down a few times. He leans in so close that Rey’s convinced that the kid is actually going to sniff Finn, but he jerks himself back and gives the older man a smile. “I’m BB,” he says eventually with a cheerful smile. 

Finn nods, his hands folded on the table. Rey is standing nearby, observing the lycan with a suspicious eye. 

His demeanor isn’t unlike a shrinking violet; shy and quiet, wilting at the slightest touch. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie and he keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding Rey’s penetrating gaze at all costs like she’ll burn him if he lingers. His body is packed, built with the firm musculature of a werewolf, yet he does everything in his power to make himself small, unnoticeable. 

“Are you waiting for Maz, too?” BB asks, cutting to the chase like he usually does. 

Rey snorts in mild amusement; the kid has one of the best senses of deduction she’s ever seen. Finn seems to think so too, given the way his eyes briefly bug out at the question. 

“Yes, I am.”

BB nods, like he approves. “Good. Me too.”

“What for?”

“Top secret,” he declares, cupping his hand like he’s about to relay some information. “I can’t even tell Rey.”

Finn nods twice, glancing up at Rey once, before focusing on a crack in the countertop. He’s obviously trying not to acknowledge her searing gaze pinned on him like he’s a bug on a bulletin board, or the rifle that she hasn’t let go of but has instead leaned against the wall. Rey briefly considered taking some of the weight off by telling him it’s unloaded, but she still doesn’t trust him, and she finds she enjoys making a lycan sweat. Even if he’s unlike any werewolf she’s ever had the misfortune of coming across. 

The trio sits in companionable silence until BB decides he wants to go outside and finish assembling the toy he’s been working on. Rey relents, only if Finn stays in her line of sight. He initially protests until Rey waves the shotgun in his face, and like a kicked puppy with his tail in between his legs, he complies. 

So that’s how they find themselves in the back keeping an eye on a blissful and zealous BB a meter away, elbow-deep in wood shavings. Finn has his hood over his face, his back turned to the road. Any genius can tell that he’s hiding from something, and Rey is in no mood to go fishing for answers to the many questions she has. They’ve been building up steadily over the past few days, and it’s only a matter of time before her self-restraint collapses under the weight of her curiosity and she gives in. 

Her train of thought is cut into by Finn’s casual observation, “You know, you’re strange for a human.” 

Yes, he uses that to break the ice. Rey cocks an eyebrow to see his highly pensive stare on her. “How so?”

The look Finn gives her is incredulous as he looks her up and down twice, as if that’s her answer. 

“Well, for starters, you’re… very fierce.”

His total shock with something as mundane as caliber makes Rey let out a chuckle that’s more dry than the Arizona desert. “Humans can’t be fierce?”

“Not fierce enough to kill two werewolves and walk away. Or go against the Primus Ren, for that matter.”

Rey shrugs, arms folded over her chest as she looks into the distance. She knows rationally that what Finn’s saying is true, but even so, she finds herself becoming defensive that he doubts her capabilities. She survived Jakku; she can survive anything, including a few animal humanoids with superiority complexes.  

“Primus Ren?” 

Finn’s entire posture goes rigid, and Rey immediately sees the fear on his face.

“It’s a long story,” he replies through a haunted voice weighed by sorrow. Rey eyes him closely, and there is an emotion on his face that she’s never seen on a werewolf: remorse, cold and piercing, like the dagger she uses to cut flesh in her enemies. 

A dagger that, she realized hours ago, she lost during the fight. She says nothing to Finn’s comment, again surprised by his reaction. She decides that she’s intrigued by this mysterious werewolf, and she’s keen to learn more about him when he offers some explanations.  

“How did you get away from Ren, anyway?” Finn is genuinely curious, eyes gleaming with an intense look as he regards her. 

Ren must be the werewolf who chased her. She says the name twice, just to see how it feels. The three letters carry a sinister level of power that sends a chill down her spine. 

“He let me go. I don’t know why.” ‘Nor am I sure I want to know,’ Rey thinks to herself, her body tensing just by thinking about it. She suppresses a shiver as the image of those eyes flash in front of her like lights, as the monster who followed her from the dry hull of the Western US desert appeared in Alaska, of all places, with a face and a fury to match. 

Finn hums.  

Rey’s ears perk up to the sound of a car engine, and she rotates her head to see a silver truck cruising over the hill at a very impractical speed for the stop it’s approaching. Maz’s Ford comes to a screeching halt in the dirt road, accompanied by the customary jerk of the stick through the open window. 

“Looks like she’s back,” Rey murmurs, and she steels herself to face judgment for her failure two nights earlier. 

But she’s also glad, because she’ll finally get some answers to some of the odd happenings that have plagued her as of late. Starting with that very odd pull that’s currently creeping down the side of her cheek, up to her head, and settling under her skull like boiled water on a stove. 

🌘

Much like the night before, the scene he finds is one of disarray and poorly-subdued chaos, and the way the cracked asphalt seems to run in oxidized red is a rather frightening nod to the way the sky currently burns with sunlit fire. 

The wolf corpses from the previous night have been removed, but the stain on the lot is glaringly obvious to any passing werewolf. Much like all the other markers around the city, no effort has been made to conceal or remove the bloodstain and it’s likely to stay that way. It won’t be long before every one of Juneau’s streets runs red in the future. 

A few lanky teenagers smoking cigarettes are staring at it like it’s some kind of alien produce, conversing among themselves over how many humans were ripped open to create this kind of spectacle. If only those young pups knew, Kylo. Whatever scandalous suggestions evaporate from their tongues the second they see him and their eyes go comically wide. They stare at him with a mix of awe and terror, at least until their senses get knocked back into them and the reality of who they’re looking at sinks in. He watches it sink into them with glee.

Like little mice scavenging in the trash, they scatter quickly with their ears pressed to their skulls, their heads bowed in submission as they avoid his penetrating gaze. The fear from pups is no more appetizing than the smallest rodel morsel digging its way through a pile of fallen leaves for plant seeds. 

But it’s still delicious. 

Kylo advances towards the pharmacy, a crumbling mausoleum of frail human health that he has never deigned to acknowledge before. He remembers them well; it allows humans to package and distribute steroids in the form of nasty pills that supposedly relieve them of their plights. He spares a glance at the mess his mate left in her bloodlust, and he’s impressed. The concentration and size of the spot tells him that his little human made those wolves suffer. Normally, such a thought would make his blood boil, but a thrill runs through him instead. 

The human has fire and grit. Savoring the adrenaline with the taste of a good kill. 

He’s eager to see more of that thrill before he takes it for himself and tames it. 

It’s still the early hours, so there are a few humans crawling around inside; he can smell them as he shoves the door open, and his nostrils flare. All humans smell the same. Sour, with fear and misery. Highly unpleasant and always leaves an aftertaste when he kills them.

The second he crosses the threshold, the atmosphere of the entire store spins on its axis as the haze of tense calm implodes into icy, shriveling terror. In an instant the small room shrinks under his presence. He barely scans the room to see a woman clutching her pup to her chest like it's the only thing keeping her from falling over. Such a pitiful looking thing; she seems smaller than his Luna. 

Behind the countertop is an old man who reeks of beer and tobacco. Unlike most humans, he’s full of packed meat, no doubt as a result of the beer bottle case he has stacked by the cracking wall behind him. 

A low growl rips up his throat, infuriated that he’s reached the point of sniffing around the gutter for crumbs, but prowling the forest with his nose in the dirt will do nothing to help him find his prey. He has to be careful, efficient, no matter what it takes. Even if it means associating with something no better than the scum of the earth. 

Though it’s almost unfathomable for him to acknowledge how an insect this insignificant could suddenly be the only link to something so important to him.  

“You!”

The man jumps so high that Kylo’s shocked that he doesn’t hit the ceiling. He sees the frustration taking hold in the human’s face, ready to blow, until he takes in Kylo for the first time. Watching his eyes go the size of saucers and the blood drains from his face is a reaction that the werewolf never gets tired of. He loves watching it in humans, the physical reaction of pure horror, when they realize just how screwed they are before they decide to delay their end as much as possible by catering to his whims. 

“H-how c-can I help you?” The man seems to forget how to speak, as his voice comes out in scattered whispers. His eyes are intently focused on a spot by Kylo’s dark boots. 

“There was a girl here the previous night. Brown hair in three buns, freckles, hazel eyes.” Kylo closes his eyes and visualizes her face; his wolf brain won’t let him forget it no matter how much he tried at the start. He doesn’t remember much in his wolf form, the transformations are usually quite hazy and he hardly recalls anything but the smells. But she is different, he very vividly remembers everything, what she smells like; he can accurately catalog her sharp nose, flat eyebrows, square-shaped face, eyes that have more colors than the forest’s autumn trees. His lovestruck wolf wants to count how many hues he can see until he scoffs at such sentiment. 

The man nods, his second chin gulping in an exaggerated movement. “Yes, she was here. She’s here a lot. I don’t know much about her, I swear.”

Kylo’s only asked one question and the human’s already begging. He’s always marveled by the range of responses that fear brings out in prey. With some species, they strike out when threatened and become some of the most fearsome creatures, like cougars and mountain vipers. Other, weaker species cower and lose themselves to their own fear. 

Humans tend to do the latter. 

“I need her name.” 

“I don’t know,” the man splutters, and he seems to shrink into a third of his size when Kylo takes a menacing step closer to the counter. He’d be a blind fool not to notice how the blobman is seconds from pissing himself.

Impatient, Kylo mercilessly rips into the man’s tiny mind, paying no attention to his horrified and pained screams, the beast in him hungry for more. Yes, he sees her. The girl that crawls in his dreams, her bright eyes hidden underneath a dirty, ragged mask of a hardened fighter. He probes deeper, the seams of the man’s mind untangling easily like the loose stread of a sweater. He knows he’s probably undoing the foundation of the human’s brain, but he doesn’t care. He needs to know. 

‘I need to know your name, tell me your name…’ The hunger he’s feeling, he’s never wanted anything more in his life. 

Eventually, he hears it clearly in the man’s memories; he has been acquainted with the girl before. She’s been here before many times over the last few moons, her purchases uniform in medicines and first aid. Kylo powers through every catalog of her face some more blurry than the others, anxiously listening for a name, the angst coiling through his chest like a metal corkscrew. 

‘Sola.’

Kylo abruptly withdraws like the man has slapped him. A sensation Kylo can only describe as white-hot rage takes hold in his body and he senses it pulling at the seams of his self-control until it unravels like a silk rug. 

Sola. That’s the name the man knows the girl by, the name she introduced herself as many moons ago. 

The name is Spanish, meaning “she who is alone,” and it’s three letters too close to the name of a man Kylo swore he’d killed and buried years ago with his past when he joined the First Order pack. The difference of only one letter and it’s enough to send that familiar sensation of feeling unhinged up to his brain. But it’s immediately calmed when he thinks on it. Sola. He tests it on his tongue, ignoring the whimpering human sprawled at his feet. He find he likes it. 

‘Sola, my little Luna.’ 

Kylo leaves shortly after, but not without snapping the neck of the man whose mind he probed. The crunching of bone is not as satisfying as when he feels it between his teeth, but it’s enough for now. 

He’s doing the smelly pathetic piece of meat a favor. He’d be brain useless anyway with the way his mind has been reduced to muddle. 

When the woman behind him lets out a horrified shriek, and his vision flashes red, Kylo decides to go out for a quick bite. He has to accomplish something today, and he won’t get it done by killing every human his eyes lay on.

Human pups and women aren’t his favorite type of meal anyway. They usually have the worst flavors of human prey. 

Weakness. 

The girl, Sola, on the other hand… Kylo grins wickedly as he remembers that feral look in her eyes as she sliced a werewolf’s hand clean off. He remembers her scent well, sweet, like honey and fresh magnolias in spring. He’s aching for more. 

He has no doubt that she’ll taste delicious, inside and out. 

🌘

“Maz, I’m so glad to see you.”

Rey has never been more relieved to see the wizened face of Maz Kanata in her entire life. Two days and it feels like Rey’s world has been taken by its threads and pulled in all directions, flipping her inside out and upside down. 

Her odd predicament with the werewolves can wait, she insists to herself, because she is desperate to know BB’s story. He’s been behaving in an oddly enigmatic way, his reasons more of a mystery than anything else she’s come across. 

And Finn, the werewolf who keeps skulking around. She’s embarrassed to admit it, but she’s very curious about him. He walks on delicate eggshells around her and everything else like he’s afraid he’ll break something. The manner in which he behaves is completely out of character from what Rey is used to, and he has implied that he knows the Executioner — Ren, Rey believes is his name. Perhaps Finn can shed some light on who exactly that freak is and why he keeps lurking in the back of her mind. 

Either way, she knows Maz will easily crack these cases open with a flick of her finger. It’s what she always does. 

“I’ve only been gone for two days.” Maz hops out of the truck, waves the younger girl out of the way as she walks around to the back. She gives Rey a humorous smile. “Glad to see you haven’t burned the shop down or gotten into any trouble.”

‘If only that were true.’ Rey rubs the back of her neck. When she pulls her hand away, there’s sweat and grime and a small amount of blood from a scratch she hadn’t noticed until now. 

Maz observes the change of emotion on Rey’s face. “You look like you want to tell me something. Spill it out,” she says, not unkindly. 

“Well…” Rey drifts off, the myriad of words she wants to stay now tangled up in a Gordian knot. How can she even begin to explain what happened, with the werewolves, and everything afterward. “I—”

The front door hinges squeak as it’s pushed open. BB’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide. Finn is right behind him and Rey doesn’t think she’s seen anyone more relieved about anything in their lives. 

No one says a word for a good ten seconds. Rey glances down at her guardian, whose lips are pressed in a thin line. 

“I see.” She doesn’t sound surprised in the slightest. Maz takes a few steps forward, eyes flirting from Finn to BB, and then back to Rey, apparently analyzing what happened through her own powers of perception. “Looks like I got back just in time.”

There’s another pregnant pause. 

“We all need to talk.” Maz levels the trio with a firm stare. “Come on, let’s get to it.”

Rey’s heart is a thumping tattoo in her chest as she follows the old woman inside. 

Chapter Text

With a flair for the dramatics, Maz ushers the trio into the downstairs bunker after locking up the shop. Rey is both amused but weary about the whole thing, watching the diminutive woman hustle them down the rickety flight of stairs and locks the door.

“Is all of this necessary?” Finn asks, asking the first question that quickly sprouted in their minds after being privy to this strange behavior. “Are we preparing for some kind of lockdown or something?” 

Rey’s surprised that he knows that term, given it was coined in the States years ago after the number of crawler raids became a larger problem following the first three waves of the initial virus. 

She remembers those in Jakku. Maybe three or four times a year, raiders or crawlers would come and attack Niima Outpost. There was no particular reason, but the consensus was they were looking for something to feast on to satiate their wildly-volatile lycan urges that they couldn’t reconcile yet. These usually happened when news of another virus wave came through from drifters. 

When the walkers came with blood in their eyes and ravenous bellies, you had to hide. Preferably behind a hundred pounds of rock so their enhanced noses couldn’t smell you. 

It was rare, but the fear among the populace was visceral. If you didn’t hide, you were fresh meat, and likely to either get infected by the mutated nightwalkers, or ravished alive. It all depended on what stages of the mutation the crawlers were in if they happened upon the tiny town.

They’d find the remains of a miner or a scavenger the next day. Usually there was nothing left to indicate that the horrid mess had been a human except for what was left of their vertebrae, or maybe a skull. Usually the crawlers took everything.  

“No, but we don’t want to be interrupted, and if my senses are right, we’re going to need some privacy for the conversation we’re about to have.” Maz gestures for them to sit down on the crates that have been fashioned into chairs. “Time is of the essence, children.”

Rey surveys the room; honestly it reminds her of Takodana Pub, all woodsy and smelling like evergreen, with an aesthetic highly reminiscent of a supply warehouse. That’s due to all the crates and barrels from floor to ceiling. She notes that the walls are lined with what she thinks is durasteel, or a close substitute. The relevance isn’t lost on her. Wolf senses aren’t strong enough to penetrate this strong of a material. 

That’s probably why most US states have banned the production of durasteel and it’s extremely hard to find it in Alaska. Maz must’ve pulled some of her infinite connections to get her hands on this. 

“You know,” Maz starts briskly, as she pours the trio some bubbly water, “when I was headed to Endor, I asked myself, ‘Just how much trouble can my Sunrey get into in two days?’” She gives the girl in question a mischievous grin. “Apparently, more than I expected.”

Rey winces and immediately starts to apologize. “I’m sorry, Maz, about the car, about all of it—”

“None of that.” Maz waves a hand. “I knew you were going to keep doing what you thought was right, despite the risk, and you had the skills to take care of yourself.” She gives Rey a meaningful look. “I’m glad to see I wasn’t disappointed.” 

Rey gapes at her. “You’re not mad?”

Maz barks out a laugh. “Oh, child, a wrecked car was the least of my worries. I’m just happy you walked away from that situation alive.”

Rey can’t help the smile that breaks across her face. 

“Besides, that rust bucket was a year from dying on me, anyway. You saved me the trouble of having to tow it to the junkyard.”

This time Rey’s response is a squawk and a sputter. 

Leave it to Maz to put things in perspective. 

The old woman turns her eyes on the one werewolf in the room. “Finnigan!” The way she announces his name seems to echo in the room. “Nice to see you after all this time.”

The man in question winces at his given name, but he nevertheless allows a smile on his face. “You too, Maz.”

“You know each other?” BB pipes up curiously, and Rey raises her eyebrows, also surprised. 

“When he was a pup, about yay-high”— Maz hovers her hand four feet off the floor — “running around my shop with his hair in braids.” She chuckles with all the fondness of a devoted grandmother, Rey thinks. She instinctively turns, trying to visualize a young Finn with hair long enough to be braided, and she finds it’s quite adorable.

Finn bashfully removes his hood, showcasing his neatly-trimmed dark hair. “Yeah, I, uh… I haven’t had those in a while. I cut them when I left.” 

“And now you’re back. Decided to make another change, did you?” Maz’s query is knowing. 

“Yeah.” Finn’s gaze has dropped to his lap, and there’s that nervousness that Rey has become accustomed to seeing on him. It seems to leech from every one of his pores like a horrid smell, a damning brand. “I thought it was time.”

There’s a long, suffering sigh that resonates with disappointment. “Finn, I haven’t seen you in thirty-one years.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry, Maz.” Finn folds his hands together contritely, the former note of submission in his posture now becoming something along the lines of defense. “I should have come back sooner… All I can say was I was wrong before.”

Meanwhile, Rey’s brain is hung up on something Maz said. Thirty-one? She takes a double take at Finn; he looks about her age, maybe a few years older. But thirty-one? That implies he’s at least… forty-something years old.

“Clearly.” Maz’s tone is flat, but grim. “How long did it take for you to leave?”

“A while.” Finn shrugs, and bites his lip to the point of breaking the skin. It’s impossible to miss those pointy canine teeth, and Rey’s somewhat stunned. The sight of such a savage-looking feature stands at a contrast to his soft countenance. 

“Why didn’t you try sooner?”

“I had nowhere to go,” Finn protests, and there’s a sudden darkness in his eyes that eerily reminds Rey of the other weres she faced in the forest that night. It’s that same hint of bloodlust, violence that they have insatiable lusts for. 

Maz rolls her jaw for a moment, reaches across the table and, no lie, gives Finn a sharp smack on the arm. Not harsh enough to hurt, but for him to get the message. Rey jumps at the sound Maz’s hand makes when she hits Finn’s arm. 

“Ow!”

“I don’t buy that batha fodder!” she snaps, pointing a finger in his face. “You had a home here, you knew I would have taken you back, but instead you made things harder by being stubborn.” 

“I couldn’t leave!” Anger flares in Finn’s warm brown eyes, and his voice drops in a menacing pitch. “Don’t you understand? I took the Blood Oath. Once you’re sworn in, you’re a trooper for life. You don’t leave the First Order pack, at least not intact.” He sits back in his chair, a shadow of something dark pushing deep into the features of his face. His words strike true for Rey, as many puzzle pieces start to click into place. 

“That’s why I feared for you.” Maz’s voice softens a hair. “Don’t think I didn’t worry when you left.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Finn’s tone was miserable. 

“Because you needed to come to the conclusion on your own,” Maz tells him sadly. “No one else could make it for you. If you believed the First Order was where you were meant to be, you were going to go, no matter what.” She holds up a gnarly finger. “But I told you that you would always have allies here once when you got your senses knocked back into you.”

A web of veins appear from the severity of Finn’s clasped hands. “I feel like such a fool.” 

“Don’t. Palpatine is a conniving snake who knows how to lure his prey in. He knows how to seduce you with pretty lies disguised as truths.” Maz’s voice hardens to stone. 

The crypticism brings out a whole new level of curiosity and aggravation in Rey, who’s been twindling around secret after secret for what has felt like weeks now. On her right, BB has shrunk to a third of his size, fidgeting as he listens in anxiously on a conversation he is a total stranger to. But Rey asks the next question. 

“Who is Palpatine?”

“A monster.”

It’s Finn who answers without thought, but an unmistakable darkness glint in his and Maz’s eyes, a revulsion Rey cannot even begin to describe taking shape. BB winces in response. 

“He’s the Alpha Prime,” Finn continues stonily. 

“The Supreme Leader.” Rey recalls the term from Rose. 

Maz nods. “And a tyrant of the highest caliber.” She finishes her drink with a dramatic gulp and slam on the barrel. “He’s one of the oldest and most powerful werewolves alive; his veins run as far into the Alaskan land as mine do, maybe deeper.” She pauses meaningfully and locks eyes with Rey. “He’s what you would call a traditionalist, one who believes in maintaining the old ways of pureblood lycan culture: rejecting modernization, upholding the old religions, submission and absolute loyalty.”

“So he’s a caveman.” Like every werewolf in existence. 

BB snorts at Rey’s blunt analogy. 

“You would say so, Sunrey. But there are examples of past werewolf leaders who thought similarly, and still upheld stability and with a sense of honor. Packs flourished, peaceful relations were maintained with the human indigenous tribes for centuries.”

“So what makes him different?”

“His methods.” Maz’s eyes harden. “He is a dogmatist obsessed with power. He sees conquest as absolute, a measure of worth and strength, and it is the most essential virtue. An extremist, if you will, believing werewolves should stay close to their most basic, primal instincts. What he calls ‘the natural order.’” Rey knows the term that remains unsaid, savagery. 

“Which wouldn’t be an issue, except his interpretations are problematic. Once we forgo all pretenses of humanity, morals and restraint are lost, and in the depths of which he goes to exert his power, he has neither. Before, there was a sense of integrity within the werewolf rite to combat. Now, there is little to none at all, only corruption.” 

“If he’s so awful,” BB pipes up, eating all this up like a pup during storytime, “how did he come to be in control? Why is he still the boss?”

Maz apparently has no need to censor this bundle of information. Rey studies him a hair and sees with shock that none of this information is as gobsmacking for him as it is for her.

“Because he’s intelligent. He’s surrounded by wolves who are loyal to him by his own design. He knows how to twist minds, play and feed off of the weaknesses of others. He’s extremely talented at finding lost souls who are unhappy with themselves, bring them in, and mold them as he sees fit. The dark side, if you will. He offers them their greatest desires and he gives it to them bit by bit, slowly and meticulously so by the time he seems to give them what they want, they are starving for more.” She sighs heavily. “Usually they’re too lost to realize they have lost everything and gained nothing.”

Rey can’t help but scoff in disbelief at Maz’s assessment. The wolves she faced didn’t seem lost or manipulated in the slightest. If anything, they seemed deep in resolve with their initial quest to tear her apart.

Finn seems to think the same. “Not all of them. The ones like Ren, Hux, and the Knights? They’re not just animals, they’re barbaric.”

The amount of contempt poured into those words makes the hairs on Rey’s arm crawl. There’s a venom in Finn’s scowl that she’s never seen before, and it’s filled with disgust, a kind that can’t truly exist without being subjected firsthand to the core of rot in its purest form. 

“Finn, you mentioned someone else before,” Rey says, and she grows increasingly nervous about asking the question practically falling off her tongue. “Who is Ren?”

“Another monster,” he responds. Another haunted expression on his face that is telltale of a man who has seen things, horrible things. “Palpatine’s Executioner, Master of the Knights of Ren, Vader’s grandson…”

None of these names mean anything to her yet she feels the truckload of weight that these words seem to instill. “Can you explain?”

Maz answers. “I’ll sum it up for you: Vader is Palpatine’s right-hand man, and he’s the architect of the First Order. The werewolf you’ve been bonded to is his only grandchild, who goes by his warrior title, Kylo Ren.”

Rey goes rock still, heart bursting against her ribs, the mark on her arm starting to itch painfully on her bruised skin. Her eyes shoot to Maz in an astonished expression. 

“You…”

Maz nods. “I know, yes.” 

“H-how…?”

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, you tend to pick up things,” Maz exclaims grimly, reverting back to her old habit of speaking in cryptic riddles. Her eyes are sad. 

Rey shuts her eyes on instinct. Foolishly she had hoped that the dark hole she’d fallen into would open up eventually and she’d be able to forget it, or at least move on from it in spite of the fact that she would see that giant monster’s eyes in her nightmares following her. Eerie, glowing rings of gold that haunted her soul and kept her awake and sweating at night. But she knew that was a pipe dream. 

“Then tell me what this is.” Rey yanks her sleeve back to expose the mark in the shape of a crescent moon. To the naïve, it’s merely a tattoo. To Rey, it feels no better than a pentagram, a symbol binding her soul to a Devil she doesn’t even know. 

Maz reaches over and takes Rey’s wrist, her thub caressing the raised skin, and there’s a small note of reverence on her face. She doesn’t answer immediately, only musing to herself thoughtfully. 

“Maz, please explain to me what it means.” Rey can feel herself starting to unravel. The amount of fear that’s been poking and prodding at her like needles on a pincushion is moments away from pulling her apart completely. 

“What it means, child, is that you are bonded. Soulmated.”

In any other circumstances, Rey would have laughed. She shakes her head. “That’s just a myth. Soulmates only exist in romantic fairytales.”

“In your world, yes. In ours, well that’s another story.” Maz releases Rey and sits back, a deeply troubled expression on her face. Rey’s breath hitches at the wording of the old woman’s disagreement, our world, your world. It’s the first time that Rey has heard Maz emphasize the difference so clearly. The distinction opens a new hole in her stomach that she feels being pulled apart with every second. 

Bond. Soulmated, the mark , these words mean nothing to Rey yet a part of her believes they should mean everything. She flicks the ink on her skin and winces from the resulting sting. What the fuck does any of it mean, really? She looked into the eye of a werewolf and suddenly she’s stuck with him. For what reason? 

But Rey’d tired of stories and riddles and puzzles she can’t answer. She has zero interest in the apparent insignificance of a blemish smaller than the jagged scar cutting across her torso. She only wants to know one thing and one thing only: 

“Can he get me here?”

Maz shakes her head. “No. I may not be part of a pack, but my name does have a bit of authority in the werewolf world because of my old ties. By old territory laws, they can’t trespass on the land I own and if they do, well…” A slightly smug grin breaks across her lips. “I can do what I see fit.” 

Suddenly Rey feels a whole lot better with that knowledge in her brain. She sinks back in her hair, relieved. 

“Now,” Maz goes on like a good host addressing her visitors, “young one, you have a story, let’s hear it.” She glances down at BB, whose eyes widen hugely at being the center of attention. 

With some gentle prodding from Maz and the assurance that Rey and Finn can also keep secrets, the little boy goes into an obviously watered down tale that Rey doesn’t expect at all and is yet not surprised but dismayed at hearing, one that makes her want less and less to do with this mysterious Kylo Ren and whatever the the fuck this soulmating shit means. 

After cursing the Alpha Prime in three languages, Maz gladly agrees to help the boy of course. 

They are down there a full hour before Maz gets a call and promptly ends the meeting, citing she has to take care of some business. Until further notice, nobody unauthorized leaves the property until a plan is established. BB is unbothered, Finn is back to his usual anxious self, Rey is left unsatisfied. 

She looks up at the red and gold sky to watch the flaming side of the mountains dull into a muted glow before vanishing with the sun beneath the horizon line.  

🌘

In his wolf form, Kylo finishes licking the last bits of prey off his paws before venturing on. It’s not late, maybe five in the afternoon but it’s pitch black in this area of the forest. The last traces of sunlight vanished an hour ago so he eagerly shifted into his wolf form to search for his prey more efficiently. 

More than three hours of searching have gone by, and he is no closer to finding the girl. He combed the reputedly vacant city, seeking her out, and apart from the few young werewolves who have stumbled upon her once or twice, they have no ideas as to where she resides. 

During his search, he had to threaten a few times, as well as permanently maim or possibly kill a juvenile were for his obscenely animalistic thoughts about his mate — thoughts that are Kylo’s to have, not some insignificant were too young to understand a knot. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t give two shits whether a man wants a human chew toy, but for this, against what belonged to him was too grave an insult to accept. 

He was more merciful than if it had been a fully matured lycan.  He felt better as the search progressed after that. 

With the city exhausted, he turns his senses for the forest. It’ll be looking for a twig in a haystack but he’s bereft of any other ideas; her scent has all but vanished from his memory and he’s aching for the relief it will provide. It was how Anakin described it: ‘ a string that pulls you to your other half; no matter where she is, you’ll always be linked to her.’

Poetically pretty words crafted by a werewolf whose arguably sociopathic love for his mate nearly drove him off the brink of sanity, Kylo thought behind shielded thoughts.   

He makes his way along the southeastern mountains. Following his instincts is akin to following two different voices bellowing at him down a pitch black tunnel, and the sound is oscillating across every corner of his mind. 

They duel ferociously as they lock on the location of shared prey, Kylo snarling through his teeth at his growing annoyance. He has to ignore the voice who is conditioned to being in control, the one who isn’t navigating with hearts in his eyes. 

Then he feels it, the electricity coiling through him like the live wire of a generator, burning through his nerves that fry under the heat. What is it? It becomes thundering, demanding, piercing, a hum in his ears, resonating through his brain like the beat of a gong. 

He closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of nighttime in the wind blowing through the trees, the rustling of the shifting leaves, animals scurrying about hidden beneath the veil of darkness, the dull thump of the energy breathing intensely around him. 

His eyes snap open as the nerves in his chest blaze, like the embers of a fire poked and explode with heat. 

There she is. Standing not thirty meters away with a hunting rifle in her hands. She stands there, unsuspectingly, an innocent doe unaware that a monster is near and more than eager for a meal. He takes a few steps towards her, vision focused on her and her alone. 

He watches her spine freeze like an antelope in headlights. She slowly turns her body like a mass on its axis until she’s facing him completely. Bathed in silvery moonlight, she looks almost ethereal, the contrast of shadows on her face against the bright outlines an image of imminent savagery. His Luna, like the universe took her in her purest form and sculpted her to perfection. 

There’s no doubt in the fear that shoots through her body at the speed of light, rippling across her muscles in a jerky caress into the jerky way she squares her shoulders and stares him down. A challenge, a dare. Her thoughts are bursting out of her like sparks off a short circuit. He watches her squint twice into the woods where her human eyes can’t see, narrowing before they widen. Recognition that shifts to horror and then fury as her grip on the shotgun changes. 

And that deadly glint in her eyes tells him that she wants to shoot his head off. 

“You!!”

It’s yelled with such venom that Kylo’s surprised the sting doesn’t cause him to fall over. But he can’t help but grin at her feistiness, a little feral kitten with her teeth bared like she wants to eat a wooly mammoth. More than two thirds of his wolf is contemplating letting her do it just to see that impertinent glare on her face. The other part — the one he prefers — wants to laugh, rip that silly toy from her hands and teach her a little thing about respect. 

But before he can do anything else, there’s the telltale sound of a gun cocking and he turns to her at the exact moment she unleashes three bullets in his direction.

Chapter Text

She’s out back, surveying the yard for anything strange after the sounds of loud howling and an all-too familiar voice pulled her outside. Her senses, like the hairs on her neck, tense in a moment when the wind shifts. She turns slowly as she peers into the forest. 

There he is. Standing just outside the reach of the moonlight, is the wraith that lurks in her nightmares, blinding rings of gold staring back at her. 

“You!” she cries in horror, and she’s almost knocked over by the way her voice resonates around her like shockwaves. In a split second she cocks the shotgun and fires, the smell of gunpowder ricocheting harshly through her nostrils and three explosions ringing through the dark forest and bringing the symphony of nocturnal life to a dead halt. To her shock, he barely registers her attack with anything more than a flinch, his entire body shuddering as if ice shot down his back. He recovers quickly into his statue-like demeanor, his carefully-blank eyes on her.

Rey’s jaw slackens, as her mind races to understand what transpired. If he is truly there with her, either he’d be dead, shot through the heart, or she’d be dead from her measly attempt to kill him. But now, he’s standing less than ten meters away, simply staring at her with dark, keen eyes.  

The icy calmness is more disturbing to Rey than if he unsheathed his claws and tried to rip her throat out.

“How are you here? What is this?” she asks, growing increasingly unnerved by his silence. Here he is in front of her, plain as day, staring at her with those hypnotically brown eyes that draw her in. His brow furrows contemplatively and Rey’s heart loosens. 

“Ironic. I’ve been trying to find you, but it seems like forces have other things in mind,” he remarks idly. “They brought you to me, instead.” 

“What are you talking about?” Rey is convinced now more than ever that werewolves may be insane. Or at least the ones here. 

“You’re showing yourself to me, Sola,” he purrs in a voice softer than velvet and smoother than silk. Rey can’t see most of his face, but she knows that he’s smiling. But she can’t help but snort at his use of her alias. 

“That’s not my name.” 

“Oh? What is it then?” The curiosity is lined by thinly-veiled greed, the kind that can’t be satisfied until it consumes everything in sight. “Tell me.” His voice drops an octave with an insistent push behind it. 

As her brain starts to fill with a haze, a warmth settling deep in her bones, Rey feels a compulsion rising within her, she recognizes it from a dream days before when she saw a wolf outside her bedroom window. A part of her wants to answer his question. 

But she is not going to cater to the whims of this animal. 

“No,” she snaps back. “And leave. You’re not allowed to trespass this area of the forest.” 

His hooded eyes widen a fraction, not anticipating her defiance, but they quickly narrow into slits as he glares at her. Rey gets the impression that he is not a monster who likes being denied, if he ever has been in the past. She’d be a fool not to sense the anger setting firm in the way he clenches his fists, like they’re aching to get around her neck and snap it in half. 

Perhaps she’s one of the first to ever refuse him. This sends a warm, delicious thrill through her. ‘ Pretentious ass,’ she thinks angrily, and the way his eyes flare a lethal gold indicates that he caught a flicker of her thoughts. The tense quiet drags on as he continues to study her, like she’s an interesting specimen he’s never seen before. She wishes she knew what he’s thinking. He takes a step closer and she reflexively cocks the shotgun. 

“One step closer, and I will end you!” she snarls. 

“No, you won’t,” he says with a certainty bordering on arrogance. It makes her want to shoot just to spite him. “You can’t. We’re not in the same place.” His eyes search behind her, looking for any clues as to her location, but the hard lines of frustration in his brow tells her he can’t see anything. That’s a relief.

But Rey can’t even begin to guess what the fuck this is, if she’s hallucinating, or if she’s dreaming. 

“You’re not hallucinating, I assure you,” he rumbles, and Rey nearly jumps out of her skin with how he seemed to pick on her thoughts so easily. 

“Then what is this?” She slowly, reluctantly, lowers the shotgun. “You aren’t doing this?”

“No.” His deep voice is curt. “The effort would kill me. You don’t have the power to do this.” She bristles at the insult but keeps her mouth shut. “And I can’t see your surroundings. Only you.” He says this last part with a level of awe that surprises her. “Can you see mine?”

She really hates how he’s looking at her like she’s a conundrum, a strange puzzle that he can’t figure out. The dark garb does little to hide the intrigue brimming within his eyes. She gives a slight shake of her head in response. 

He’s muttering to himself, an intent expression concentrated between the crease in his brow. “No, this is something else.” 

“A werewolf thing? Don’t werewolves share bonds?” Maz’s words are rolling around in her head like a loose marble. He regards her again, this time a considerate gleam in his gaze. 

“Yes, between mates.” The animosity from before seems to have dispersed; in fact he sounds slightly impressed by what she knows. “But it occurs after they mate, and this”—he gestures to them with a pale hand —“doesn’t usually happen.”

“Then why is it happening?”

“We have a different kind of bond, it seems.”

“But that can’t be, I’m human.”

“Perhaps mentally.” There’s no small amount of disgust in his voice when he says that. “But humans can’t resist compulsions. No full humans, anyway.” He takes a step closer and she inches backward. He’s not really with her, but the proximity is too unnerving for Rey’s preferences. “And weres don’t naturally bond with humans.” He cocks his masked head to the side. “Yet I imprinted on you.”

“‘Compulsions?’ ‘Imprinted?’” Rey is incredulous. Is it possible for werewolves to be insane, or is that simply a byproduct of their brains? “Is this some kind of magic thing?”

“Far from it, but I suppose you humans prefer your flawed methods of science to explain things you can’t understand.” His voice drips with contempt. “That’s why half of your species has been wiped out due to your own failings.”

So they are going down that road. That’s fine, if he can land a bullet, Rey’s more than willing to up the ammo. 

“And I suppose you think you’re better, thrashing your heads around like wild animals? Sinking your teeth into anything with a pulse?” 

A sound comes from him that she can only guess is a snort. One of his dark eyebrows raises mockingly. 

“Feisty, aren’t you?” he muses, the baritone of his voice muffled by the garment obscuring his face. He sounds more amused than anything else, which tells Rey that his comment is not a compliment. 

Biting back a scathing response, she says nothing, instead choosing to send daggers through her eyes at him. They may not be in the same location, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to do something. 

He finally closes the distance between them, and this time Rey doesn’t run. He can’t hurt her, he’s not with her, right? 

He stops when he’s towering over her and it takes all of her self control not to shudder when she realizes just how large he is. She watches his obsidian eyes flicker up and down her body, just before they stop and linger posessively on her dehydrated lips. 

“You have a pretty mouth,” he muses, bringing his large, pale finger up to her face. Rey refuses to cower and lets him do it, if only to prove she’s not afraid of this bastard. This bastard who, from the looks of it, is content to continue their never game of mental Cat and Mouse. 

The heat emanating from his body sends a sharp spasm through hers and her leg twitches at the unusual sensation. He says nothing, silent as a night cougar, and greedily drinks her in, though when the crinkles get larger, she suspects that he’s smirking, no doubt having noticed her reaction. Rey can see that avaricious glint in his eyes plain as day as he looks her up and down for a third time, eyes locked on the quivering tendons in her neck like he wants to rip out her jugular. 

That survivor instinct in her head is screaming at her, “Why aren’t you running?” But it cycles through and disappears out the other side. It seems like her whole body is locked in place. 

Like the bastard he is, he continues his assessment. “Even if it’s too smart for its own good. I wonder what it’s hiding?” 

That sets her off, and Rey slaps his hand away, baring her teeth. He chuckles, a dark and foreboding sound that sends cold shivers down her spine and leaves her hair prickling. 

“I am fine the way I am, thank you very much.” She glares at him. “Who are you, and why have you been in my head?” 

“Feisty and demanding,” he remarks coldly, any previous warmth gone. Rey can see the anticipation rippling through his muscles, his hunched shoulders, as he prepares for an attack. She has no idea what he’ll look like as a wolf, but she knows she doesn’t wanna know.  

“What is this?” She gestures wildly to this thing, this bond, that by all means shouldn’t exist yet for some reason does. Things like this don’t happen to nobodies like her. Not even in fiction!

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He crowds her space yet again, and this time she takes a step back, the intensity of his scent blowing into her face like campfire smoke and embers. She feels positively tiny this close to him because he has to be at least twice her width and almost a foot taller. His attire does very little to hide the fact that he’s broad, big, and built like those army tanks they keep stocked at the Starkiller Depot near Fairbanks. She wonders just how much of that muscle was made off red meat and wood chopping. 

This circular conversation is grating on her nerves and she growls low in her throat. His eyes crinkle again and she sees the contempt. She wishes she had a silver knife. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he croons, and the way that statement sounds so sinister to her ears makes it sound like a damnation. 

The nerve of this man… beast… whatever he is, to taunt her in this way. 

Her mind feels… odd, clear. Like the morning mist that forms in the channel morning has come to clear out all her intrusive thoughts, leaving nothing else to focus on but… him. 

Rey flares her nostrils. “What have you done to me?” she whispers through gritted teeth. 

A viselike grip snakes out and grabs her arm in a grip that is sure to bring bruises, and she yelps. 

“What have I done to you?” His eyes glow with a malevolence that’s bound to paralyze her where she stands. She meets his eyes with a steely glare. 

“You’re a phantom who haunts me, I can’t stop thinking of you, I can’t close my eyes to be free of you, nor can I kill you because for some reason my head won’t let me think it without pain.” The hatred in his eyes burns into her with a madness and violence she can’t even begin to comprehend, and it pins her with fear but she can’t force herself to look away from him. 

His grip is bruising, and he puffs out his chest as a way to intimidate her. She may be terrified, but she’ll stare the monster down. 

“I didn’t create this connection, you tree-sized fur-brain!” she snaps, knowing very well that poking the bear isn’t the best idea but she’s beyond caring. “I don’t know what mushrooms you’ve been hitting but I don’t know a thing about any of this! Plus you gave me this!” She yanks up her sleeve to expose the offending picture. His gaze drops for a fraction of a second and the skin under his left eye twitches. 

Rey continues. “And if I’m haunting you, good! Because you’ve been in my head for months like a ghost! So if I make you lose sleep at night, then I guess we’re even.”

Her tirade’s met with silence, except for the crickets that chirp in pleasant filler. He hasn’t let go of her, except his grip has softened a hair. 

“You’re a really brave little thing, you know that? No one has the audacity to speak to me like that,” he muses. His voice is now longer shreds of rusted metal bashing together, but low thunder in the distance. Something dark gleams in his eyes.  

“You’re a human,” he goes on. “I should want to rip out your throat…” His voice drifts off as the hostility in his countenance melts away like snow in spring. How quick the fire in his eyes extinguished gives Rey whiplash. Instead, I want something else.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you want,” Rey hisses despite becoming very unsettled. “I’ll only tell you once. Stay the hell away from me.”

He lets out a scoff. “As much as I would like that, unfortunately fate has other ideas in mind.”

“Screw fate and screw you!”

The corners of his eyes crinkle again and something predatory passes over his face. Rey knows that he’s grinning like a Cheshire Cat and she instantly regrets her words. 

“Is that an invitation?” he queries, his husky voice salacious, as his gaze predictably drops to her flat bosom and narrow waist.

Rey takes a step back as she attempts to pry his hand away. “Leave me alone,” she reiterates firmly. 

“Tell me your name,” he growls again, and his eyes glow an otherworldly gold that sends lightning over her skin.  

Rey grits her teeth as whatever force he pushed into her before hits stronger and less forgiving. She has no idea where it comes from, but a sudden burst of energy coils up from the depths of her belly, building up inside her chest before it shoots out. All of Rey’s muscles contract like the snap of a rubber band. From the back of her mind, she thinks she hears a door slam, hard, and the way that the wolf’s eyes widen in shock tells her that she’s not the only one who heard it. 

“So there is something…” He has that keen look in his eyes that Rey has come to know well. “You’re not like the others. What are you?” he asks. 

Rey rolls her jaw at the absurdity of the question. “Monster. I’m not giving you anything.”

The irritation takes hold in his posture once more, but as fast as it appears, it vanishes. He finally releases her sore wrist, taking a few steps back. Small crinkles around his eyes suggest he’s smiling, but Rey would describe that evilly esurient look in his eyes as the hunter who found his next meal. 

A meal that he’s going to really enjoy chasing. 

“Very well. We can play this game if you wish, I so enjoy a hunt when the prey offers a challenge.” He sounds utterly wolfish and it makes Rey want to scream and shrink into herself simultaneously. “Run from me while you can, little Sola. But there’s only so many places you can hide. And I won’t stop until I find you.” His eyes gleam with a sense of hunger not even Rey can begin to put into words; it’s horrifying. 

A second later, his figure fades into the hazy hue of an apparition, before disappearing entirely. Rey’s left alone staring into the dark forest with a knife twisted deep in her chest. 

She can’t help but fall to her knees and let out a scream. 

Chapter Text

Kylo emerges from his den with the blood of his latest skill on his lips, teeth and muzzle, deep in a good mood. Has been since the force of the imprinting bond brought his Luna to him and he had finally been able to observe his mate without the distraction of pandemonium and blood in his vision. And even now he’s still speechless. 

Never before had he actually understood temptation. He’s never indulged his carnal desires, because he’s never had the motivation or reason. None of the she-wolves in the pack peaked his interest no matter how eager they were to please.

As if anyone could measure up to her.

She was an unwitting vixen.

Her body will be considered non-pleasing to most, as it lacked desirable feminine characteristics with narrow hips, skinny thighs and a flat chest. 

But she smelled so enticing that he was helpless but to covet it. The definition of her musculature sculpted by perfectly toned muscles, indicating a strength that shouldn’t exist… 

He wonders how she puts that strength to use, and how he can test it. His mind conjures up satisfying images of her smaller body writhing under him as he thrusts inside her over and over again. Could she take him? 

The best part was that her allure seems unintentional, as if she isn’t even aware of it, which excites him more. An innocent vixen with a lure impossible to resist, ripe for the taking. The halo of the moonlight draping over her provided an almost ethereal glow to her delicate and fierce features, and he had to blink twice to make sure she was real as he observed her intently. 

And her spirit… she was beyond fearless to speak to him the way she did. It continues to impress him; how she defied him, insulted him, held a shotgun to his face without an inkling of fear. 

And that strength appears to extend beyond any physical limitations. He felt it as keenly as the soft earth under his paws, as he attempted to delve into her mind, the burst of energy that flowed through her veins as she shoved him out with a power that she shouldn’t have. It only adds to the mystery and makes him more obsessed to explore this power and claim it for himself. 

The prospect makes him vibrate giddily.

There’s a fresh taste of excitement hanging in the air as the wolves prepare for the Summit congregation, but it becomes minutely laced with repulsion as he passes. By now, the news of Kylo’s imprinting has spread throughout the pack, and with it, the detail that the object of his compulsive obsessions is none other than a human girl.

No one is stupid enough to voice what they really think but Kylo can see it in their eyes; he doesn’t give two fucks. He can permit them to their opinions as long as they don’t act on them. The only approval that matters is from Anakin and Palpatine, and he has it.  

Speaking of, the Alpha Prime has said little to him since giving his permission to pursue the girl, which Kylo is grateful for. Unfortunately, he had to pause his search when the night of the Summit finally arrived, and the rough anticipation was jolting within his muscles like hornet stings. His wolf is begging him to relinquish the control he has on himself and find her, admonishing him for hesitating, but he must hold himself together long enough to get through these next few hours of what is certain to be a foolish display of fanatic werewolf hierarchy. 

🌘

A night without sleep comes and leaves, and Rey showers that morning, she wants to erase all the evidence of what happened the night before. She scrubs her skin raw, paying no mind to the reopening wounds across her torso and arms. When she decides she’s done, another image of those horribly alluring eyes flashes before her and she has to start all over again. 

As she dresses, she notices with shock that many of the wounds have healed, but there are fresh scars criss-crossing over the old ones she sustained from Jakku. The one slicing up her arm, which she should have exsanguinated from, has sewn together into a pink scar, fresh and raised. Rey frowns, as she assumes an injury of that magnitude would take longer to rejuvenate itself. 

She hasn’t told anyone about what happened the night before. She couldn’t, not with her skin prickling at the very thought of that monster with something other than revulsion. She wants to hate him, and how can she not? He’s everything she swore to avoid, and let’s not forget that he was seconds away from sinking his teeth into her neck before something in him changed, like the flip of a switch. 

She remembers that look in his eyes last night. Intrigue, desire, lust. She shudders with horror. 

The monster from her dreams who had part of a face to go with the voice. He’s a wraith that comes and goes with the night, robbing her of her security every time she sees him or feels him. Ever since that night, she feels a new type of beast rolling around the pit of her stomach, snaking up her spine and to the back of her mind. One that hungers, rages for revenge but she refuses to seek it out for herself. She has to keep looking over her shoulder because she feels his intense and predatory eyes raking over her as acutely as a burn to her skull. Perhaps it’s opened a door to something she cannot close. A door that leads to nothing but turmoil when she dares to look through. Knee-deep in wood shavings, she self-consciously scratches the tattoo on her arm. 

The Luna Mark; those three words roll around her brain like loose marbles. She can’t be anything but furious at that monster, Ren, for what he did to her, whatever it was he did. 

At least she’s not alone, not physically. BB and Finn are staying for the time being, at least until the Summit ends and all the packs move out. She takes some comfort in that, despite Ren’s promise to hunt her down. A temporary assurance of safety is enough to get her through the night.  

Later that afternoon, alone at the shop with BB and Finn, Rey is troubled enough by a half-answered question to voice it again as they’re organizing the inventory of Maz’s storehouse. 

“I have to ask,” Rey says quietly, “what exactly happens during the Summit?”

The werewolf purses his lips in a show of what she suspects to be fear. “Usually a law delegation takes place to discuss any treaties or violations, but the major event is the Alpha Rite. It’s a duel between the Supreme Leader and any challenger. The werewolf who emerges victorious assumes the position.” 

Rey muses over this, intrigued. It’s at a contrast to what she’s used to; the sense of organization with the beasts she’s accustomed to seeing as nothing but disordered and feral. “Can anyone fight?”

“Only the Prime Alphas,” Finn responds as he opens the lid to a crate stuffed with metal rods, and then he clarifies, “The leaders of each pack. There can be dozens of challengers, or none at all. The latter of which has been the case for the last several years.” 

The hate in his voice does not go unnoticed by Rey, and there’s a resentful undertone to it that’s distinctly vicious. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Finn abhors the pack he’s abandoned, and remembering the night she almost died, she can’t blame him. But what she’s confused over is why any lycan would throw away the hand of the monster who leads them to proverbial gluttony. 

“Why?” 

“Because the Rite is fixed.” That’s the simplest answer Finn can give, but it answers the remainder of Rey’s questions now. She can see that clear as day. From what Maz told her in the basement last night, and the darkness that seems to hound that name… Palpatine… she can imagine any rapacious monster would do anything to secure his stake. 

“Palpatine isn’t like… most werewolves,” he says finally. “No one knows for sure, but there’s something different about him, his advisor, and his Hunters. That’s why everyone fears them. And the Rite is not dueling, but a bloodbath. Death isn’t enough for any of them. No, they have to destroy until there’s nothing left. No one wants to end up a martyr or be made an example of in front of the other packs.” A forlorn expression graces Finn’s face, and it’s all Rey can do to suspect that the man has seen things. 

Rey glances apprehensively out the window. There’s nothing but the trees that glisten with the afternoon frost.

Her tattoo itches again. 

🌘

“Your lack of an interest in pack law is telling,” is his grandfather’s nonchalant observation. Kylo, to his credit, doesn’t even bristle.

“I see no point in any of this, most packs have already accepted the inevitable outcome.”

Anakin chuckles darkly. “There’s always the one every few years with aspirations of grandeur. If nothing else, we can enjoy the entertainment.” He leans his head to the side, watching Kylo’s intense expression. “But you’re more concerned with the girl. You’re fighting your instincts,” he says thoughtfully. 

The muscles in Kylo’s shoulders tighten. “All I want to do is track her down, drag her back to my den, and mate her now.” He can’t fight the desperation that rings in his tone. 

Anakin smiles. “Patience, grandson. You’ll have your chance to claim your prey, but we have to address this technicality first.”

Kylo idly surveys the vast expanse of werewolves compressed together around an open pit of dirt in the middle of the woods. For the last few minutes, the Alphas of each pack have been icily discussing treaties and laws, holding onto a semblance of diplomatic conversation as Palpatine wordlessly observes, with Anakin at his side and Kylo and his Knights standing at a respectful distance. 

He recognizes a few Alphas he’s come across a few times, like Desilijic of the Hutt pack, or Tasu of the Kanji pack, but the others belong to a sea of faces that are plainly insignificant to him.

“Rather unnecessary,” Kylo grumbled. “It’s nothing more than a charade.”

A low growl creeps up Anakin’s throat. “Perhaps, but remember yourself, need I remind you the value of tradition,” the older wolf hisses, a warning in his voice that backs Kylo down a fraction of an inch. The younger werewolf turns his piercing stare on the flames nearby, sulking. 

Unlike the majority of his peers and superiors, Kylo has zero desire to cater to the whims of others, especially lesser beings. It’s exhausting and achieves nothing, and usually what happens is those who do end up caught in the lies of their own design. 

Unless you’re the Supreme Leader, who is the most masterful manipulator Kylo has ever met in his life. Perhaps that’s what makes him different than Palpatine or his grandfather, Kylo doesn’t get his knocks off of spinning countless webs and luring his victims into one by disguising it as a safety net. He just prefers to trap them outright and dominate them then. 

Simple, and it’s a show of ironclad strength that can’t be broken. So the only mask Kylo will ever put on is his control. 

Anakin’s voice breaks into his thoughts once more.

“I had hoped by now you’d realize that occasionally, some catering can be the key to getting what you want.”

The smile on his grandfather’s face is lethal, and Kylo wonders yet again what Anakin is thinking about. Perhaps the defiant leader of the North Arctic park, Organa.

Not that she would be welcome; she has a reputation for being a “hair-lined bitch” with no respect for the old ways. 

The smell of animosity suddenly spikes as the volume of the snarls increases, and Kylo exchanges a smirk with Vicrul at his side, enjoying the sight of how territoriality is consuming the rational thought of the other Alphas. He turns a curious gaze to his grandfather, whose face has returned to its stoic mask. Palpatine merely looks bored. 

It’s a front. Kylo knows he’s dissecting them, picking them apart, deciding what moves he may need to make if necessary. It’s a skill he respects the old were for because he’s maliciously unapologetic about it, and very few have mastered it at such a high caliber. 

Kylo’s be a fool not to know how the Rite has been designed according to Palpatine’s machinations over the last few decades, but it makes his skin crawl watching the Supreme Leader put on the airs towards unsuspecting rivals and subordinates, who usually have no idea the trap they’ve fallen into. He can’t bring himself to feel anything; those who are stupid enough to take on Palpatine with the knowledge of his strength are fools and deserve death. 

On the plus side, it has been a source of entertainment these last few Summits. 

Once the spats have been resolved, and Kylo senses the anticipation settling into the minds of every wolf present, no different than the starving animal thirsting ravenously for a promised meal. 

“Now,” Palpatine says, straightening his hunched back as he abandons his feeble persona. This is one of the moments where Kylo is reminded of the old werewolf’s true stature, more than six feet tall, and seems to absorb the attention of everyone around him. “Does any Alpha wish to invoke their right to Combat and duel for the title of Alpha Prime?”

Silence greets his words, and Kylo tastes the disappointment around him. Palpatine’s dark eyes glitter as if he wants the challenge, the opportunity to kill by making an example out of the next fool who decides to offer themselves to the incarnation of evil himself. Others seem just as eager. 

Many packs in favor with the First Order are just as addicted to the taste of blood in their mouths, to have it stained in their fur and their talons, which is why they remain the highest in Palpatine’s favor. Others, however, packs with misguided ideals plagued by human morale, are not. 

“I do.” A harsh voice rings clear from somewhere in the crowd. Kylo searches until he located an Alpha near the back, eyes zeroed defiantly at the Supreme Leader. Kylo smirks to himself and he hears the snickers of his packmates nearby. 

Palpatine’s eyebrows raise in a show of surprise, but Kylo can see the hunger behind his gaze. “Step forward” he orders, and the werewolves part to let this lycan through. Up close, Kylo observes this werewolf with narrowed eyes. 

He’s far from his prime, clearly older than Kylo’s grandfather, but his physique is indicative of someone who spends his time hunting as a hobby. He’s well over six feet tall with piercing eyes that send a chill down Kylo’s spine. The old were looks familiar, though he can’t place him. 

Palpatine’s lips curl into a sneer. “State your name.”

“Alpha of the Serenno Pack,” was the other Alpha’s response. 

“You wish to challenge me?” Palpatine sounds on the verge of laughter. 

“Yes.” The werewolf’s eyes glint with something deeper than hate, the kind that poisons the body until all it can do is decay from the inside out. 

“So be it.” 

The excitement that rouses without the crowd is overwhelming and eager, as the two werewolves shift into their animal forms. The shock of seeing Palpatine in his wolf form continues to catch Kylo off guard as the years go on; the Alpha Prime is massive in this form seems to multiply exponentially every time. 

Kylo watches the duel with practiced detachment, and one look at Anakin’s sadistic smirk as the two wolves prepare to fight tells him that there was likely some history between the three. It probably ties to this unexpected challenge tonight so he dwells on it with subdued curiosity. 

The duel is longer than usual, the outcome is expected, but almost everyone eagerly watches the two wolves tear into each other with the intent to kill, howling with approval and aching for more blood to taste in their lungs.

The Serenno Alpha holds his own for a while before he’s ultimately overpowered by Palpatine. His head is ripped from his body, grasped in Palpatine’s powerful jaws as he throws it across the dirt pit that is covered with fur and stained with blood, tissue and muscle. 

The packs erupt in a chorus as they hail the victory of Palpatine, who has secured his reign once more for the next two years. 

Many start to shift into their wolf forms and the crowd disperses. Anakin hums with approval before he turns to Kylo. “Business has been settled. There’s nothing stopping you now. Go find your prey.”

Kylo shifts in the span of a second and bounds into the woods, a breathy cackle echoing faintly in his ears. An emotion that isn’t his explodes in his brain, searing and powerful, but it’s so potent that it floods the bulk of his senses to overwhelm him, but it pumps his body full of newfound adrenaline as he leaps across the near-frozen string of a river.

He knows instantly what it is, and his lips curl into a sneer. 

Her terror. 

Chapter Text

He sprints through the forest, sweat trickling down the side of his face and his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The adrenaline surges through his limbs as he bounds, the wind combing through his matted, blood-stained fur. The woody scent of the forest mixed with a metallic edge of blood fills his lungs and coats the back of his mouth. 

The hunger. The anticipation. The intoxication.  

Savoring the hunt like a delicious morsel of prey trapped between his claws, the cortisol activates the truly predatory side of his brain as he puts his nose into the frozen earth, searching for any trace of that scent. Following his instincts as they lead him down a path cut through the shadowed trees. 

“ Follow your instincts,” Anakin told him. “ Use them. They will serve you well.”  

Although Kylo would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, following a train of thought he normally deigned to ignore, he supposed that indulging them would aid him in his quarry. A hunt to search for a target he has no idea where to start looking for. It has devoured his thoughts for too long, pulling his mind into places he has never entered before. The sensation of feeling unhinged dulls into something he recognizes: euphoria, but twisted and bent backwards into something primal.

He hears the whispers of his pack mates when they believe he can’t sense their disgust through the force. ‘ He’s gone mad,’ is a favorite that insidiously pulls a smile across his face every time he hears it. 

Fools. 

‘ They know nothing.’ 

It cannot be helped that Kylo is besotted with a human girl, no more than he can control the color of his skin or the strain of filth that permeates through his blood. He can’t be faulted for anything that burns from the roots of his instincts. It also cannot be helped that the imprinting goes beyond simple soulmates, written in the stars by the threads of the force, marked by something he erroneously deemed a curse many years ago. 

After the first vision faded, he felt it. A thread that tugs at his subconscious, coiling around the black hole of his heart, and pulling him forward. Anakin told him what it was: half of the bond was established. For it to be complete, the other half — her half — must be created and cultivated, and Kylo avariciously smirks over the thought of building the missing piece as they’re locked together, splayed in the hard-baked earth as he makes her forget where he ends and she starts. Make her realize exactly who owns her and who she belongs to. 

He can feel the beginnings of his rut tense his muscles at the idea; it ravishes his mind like an infection that refuses to leave him in peace, except when he pushes every one of his boundaries to seek her out. 

And the longer he goes without her, the less control he has on himself. Ushar snidely remarked on the influx of murderous urges Kylo had subjected several of their pack mates to just before Kylo ordered him to find the girl before he ended up as a throw rug in Kylo’s den. 

The girl has made good on her word not to make the hunt easy. Juneau is not massive, so one would think she shouldn’t be so hard to find, yet she eludes him effortlessly. She is a nobody who exists only when she wants to, glides in and out of the background like a ghost, unseen by everyone, and those who do see her only know the face without a name to go behind it. They don’t know a thing, only she comes and goes with the light, vanishing into the darkness like she was never there at all.  

What a dichotomy. They know her face, yet they will never see his. They know his name, but not hers. Whereas she is a being of light, he is a wraith of the darkness.

Kylo has begun to suspect that the forces have more than one reason to pair him with someone who shouldn’t be any more significant than the mud under his boots, yet she is everything — his perfect match. A puzzle, a mystery, an enigma, and stroking his insatiable need for answers is how they encourage him to act on his base desires.

🌑

Rey downs the second mug of steaming chamomile and lets the hot tea tingle down her sore throat. Anything to temper the storm of thoughts brewing inside her. Not unlike the last few nights since that monster appeared in a vivid hallucination to taunt her, she slept horribly and the fatigue was becoming obvious in the dark circles growing under her eyes. 

As the turmoil continues to simmer, she keeps everyone at a distance. She stays farther and farther from Finn, whose presence is an unwitting reminder of the predicament she’s in. He’s upstairs entertaining BB, whom she’s removed herself from as well. His glow of sunshine is refreshing but she can’t bring herself to focus on it right now.  

Maz tends to business as usual, but Rey becomes gradually aware of how the older woman seems to regard everything more cautiously. The Summit has ended, the majority of the Alaskan packs have begun to depart, but what they have left behind has placed everyone on edge. According to Maz, the reins of authority have not changed at all, to no one’s surprise. But a new, oppressive shadow that wasn’t there before seems to descend on Juneau with a wrathful vengeance. 

One that seems to have his eyes burned into it. She’s positive that when the wolves break out in chorus at night, she can hear his howl above all the others. 

Rey goes through every distraction she can find around Maz’s property. Assembling, repairing, organizing, everything. Something that happened the night before, that she can’t put into words, has been bothering her like a thread sewn under her skin. 

She spends about twenty minutes working out her pent-up anxieties into sanding off some wooden pieces when she hears the creak of the front door and heavy footsteps over the wooden floorboards. Her vision tunnels for a fraction of a second. Instantly her thoughts go to one thing and one thing only. Her heart goes up into her throat so fast that she nearly chokes. 

Rii’a, no.  

Rey picks up the shotgun that she never goes anywhere without anymore and peeks around the corner, prepared to fire. The grip she has on the weapon is painful and bruising, so it burns when it loosens as she sees a rounded face framed by wispy dark hair staring back at her from the doorway. 

“Snap?” 

Rey is surprised, she hasn’t seen the man in days. And he doesn’t leave his property for any reason except when he needs to get the oil in his trunk changed, which, by her account, was about five months ago. “What are you doing here?”

The lycan’s dark eyes are filled with apprehension and concern as he closes the door behind him. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, little sola,” he responds, adjusting the massive AK-47 slung over his shoulder. “I had to come by when I could.” 

“Why?” Rey’s brow furrowed. 

Snap opens his mouth to respond when the sound of a door shutting perks both of their ears up; Rey can feel her heart beating against her ribcage as if it’ll burst out of her chest. 

“Temmin.”

Maz strides into the room with one hand on her hip and the other on her pistol in the holster of her belt. Rey has never seen the old woman’s eyes look as severe as they do now. “What is going on?”

“One of Ren’s Knights came to my property,” Snap hurries to explain, the dread in his voice unmistakable. For as long as Rey has known him, Ol’ Snap has never appeared this nervous about anything, and it unsettles her deeply. “Asking about Rey . ”

The Ren. A chill runs down Rey’s spine as the memories of two days prior come crashing down on her like a tsunami wave. It seems as though Ren is making good on his threat of hunting her down. 

“What did you tell them?” A hint of anxiety snakes through Maz’s urgent question. 

“That I didn’t know anything about you, other than you do repairs on my house.” Heavy guilt ripples over Ol’ Snap’s bulky shoulders. “I was lucky that Ren himself didn’t question me, or I wouldn’t be here right now.” 

The alternative is dumped over them like a bucket of ice, and Rey shivers as a small breeze tickles the hair on the back of her neck, like a gentle caress. 

Maz exhales heavily as she runs a hand over her cap. “Damn it.” 

“Who are the Knights of Ren?” Rey asks, watching the air of the room thicken. 

“Beasts.” Snap shakes his head. 

“Palpatine’s elite warriors.” There’s no small amount of disgust in Maz’s voice. “But Kylo Ren is their leader, so they serve him.” 

Rey does her best to ignore the beginnings of an angry headache brewing at the back of her head. She presses her fingers to her temples, willing it away by sheer grit and annoyance. 

“But I don’t get Ren’s objective here. Why does he want sola ?” Snap glances at Rey with concern. 

Maz’s face pulls into a grimace and she mutters something in Old Latin. Rey doesn’t catch what she says but whatever it was makes Snap’s eyes go wide with horror. He hisses something back, and the word Rey catches this time is “Luna.” Her hand instinctively clamps over the tattoo hidden under her sleeve and she swallows the dread building at the base of her throat. 

The look Snap gives her is thick with disbelief, sorrow, and pity. He hangs his head and does a symbol over his chest with two fingers. “Maker have mercy…” 

“Oh, yes.” Maz nods with her lips pursed. “That’s not even all of it.” She switches back to Latin and points a finger to the ceiling. Rey watches the remaining color drain from Snap’s face until it’s a ghostly white, and by the time Maz is done explaining, there’s horrified disbelief in his eyes. 

“Son of a bitch, Maz, you’ve hit the mother lode of shit. When those crawlers come by here and find out about this, they’ll unleash fresh hell.”

“When,” not “if,” Rey notes with a sinking feeling. She glances apprehensively at the front door. Could her monster or one of his lackeys be on their way here now? 

“Let me worry about my business,” the old woman responds with an edge to her voice. “I’ve been dealing with Palpatine and his dogs for decades. I know how to handle them, especially Vader and Kylo Ren.” She switches to Latin again and mutters an old proverb that Rey has heard of a few times. Something in her irises glint, as she gives the lycan a nod. “Thank you for the head’s up, and I can take it from here. Watch yourself, just in case they come sniffing around.”

Snap nods grimly, bids Rey goodbye, and leaves. The two women are alone in the heavy silence of the room as the gravity of the situation weighs in. Maz clicks her tongue, curses in Inuit and adjusts her glasses. 

“Sunrey…”

“I know.” Rey remembers that Ren swore he’d look for her, and she knows that werewolves are nothing if not relentless and ruthless when it comes to getting what they want. And she’s heard from multiple sources that her hunter is a bloodthirsty killer, so it makes sense that his pursuit of her would be this thorough and determined. She anxiously runs a hand through her hair. 

“What should I do now? If he’s looking for me—”

“I told you. He has no legal right to take you. Not while you’re on my territory, under my roof, and unwilling.” 

Damn that. Pigs would fly before Rey ever considered consenting to anything related to that monster. That’s the only semblance of comfort she’s been able to grasp onto. 

“I’ll call a friend. He may be able to help, he knows those devils as much as if not better than I do.”

Maz is attempting to console her, Rey wants to appreciate it, but it’s hollow, empty. Even if this contact can help her, how is she meant to turn her back on this shitshow completely if that fucking bond still ties her mind to Ren’s ike a string that can’t be cut? 

“What bond?”

Fuck. Maz’s eyes are narrowed intently on the younger girl’s face, and Rey purses her lips together as she realizes she had spoken aloud. Shit. Now she has to admit the one thing that’s been keeping her up at night for months, starting long before she ever knew about werewolves or Alaska, or anything. 

“It’s a long story, I can’t explain it.”

Maz beckons her to the back. “We have some time.”

🌑

Hours pass, the search has yielded no fruitful leads, and Kylo is becoming increasingly impatient.  

Palpatine has given him two moonrises to find the girl before they return to Exegol, which is why Kylo has his Knights and the crawlers combing through the city and forests with a fine tooth to find her. Truthfully Kylo is enraged that it’s taking him so long to complete the task, since physiologically the bond should allow him to locate her without a sweat; if the bond was fully developed, he could utilize it to control her.

He’s crouched beneath a rocky overpass, finishing a snack when she appears before him again. Once again, he can’t see her surroundings besides the outline of a mattress she’s seated on, but he’s more than content with the view, and he does his best not to lose himself in lust as he stares at her.  

She is not as heavily clothed as the first time, so he can appreciate the slender sculpture of her figure, hard muscles cut from gruel and work shaping her arms and legs, a tank top clinging to her torso like a second skin, short pants hugging her hips and legs to boast her pert ass. His cock twitches instantly as naked desire thrums through his body, the primal part of his brain visualizing all the ways he wants to tie her down and fuck her so hard she’ll never be able to leave his den. 

‘It’ll be so much fun when I catch you.’  

He shifts into his human form, waiting to see how long it takes for her to realize that the bond has connected them. Six long seconds go by before her spine goes rigid in the way prey do when their senses become attuned to an imminent threat, and she whips her head in his direction. 

“Goddamn it!” She springs to her feet and brings a familiar-looking shotgun into view. She aims it right at his face. “Why the hell does this keep happening?”

Kylo’s eyes crinkle with amusement. The human takes one look at a werewolf and instead of cowering, her first instinct is to demand an explanation from him and bare her weapon. Her courage is refreshing, if not misguided. He regards the shotgun with a raised eyebrow. 

“You tried that before. Can you not realize that this is the bond?” he asks contemptuously, purposely riling her up. He finds that her fury is fun to play with, fanning the flames just to see how high they’ll go. 

She huffs in that adorable British accent of hers. “I know what it is, asshole. What I don’t know is how to get it to stop.”

“Simple. We can’t.” Kylo takes great delight in seeing the glint of horror pass over her face, but she recovers quickly. 

“There has to be.”

“Only way it goes away is if one of us dies.”

She makes a show of pondering over this, tapping the side of her head. “So, I have to kill you, is what you’re saying.”

Kylo smiles wolfishly. “More likely I’d kill you, which is not going to happen.” The smallest hint of fear races through her body and he revels in it. “And you won’t be able to kill me, little Sola.”

She gives no reaction. Instead, she mutters something under her breath and curses colorfully in Latin. Kylo smirks and responds to her insult. When she responds again, he raises his eyebrows.

Old Latin is a dialect known exclusively to Alaskan werewolf packs after fading from the Americas centuries before. It’s another puzzle piece, another question he has on top of at least a dozen about her.

“How do you know Old Latin?” he asks curiously.

“Picked it up.” She turns her attention to the book lying on the mattress, which she had apparently been reading. The title is written in Inuit, a dialect from the northern indigenous tribes.

Kylo considers her a moment. There are not many books around anymore, least of all written in Latin or old languages. Certainly humans don’t have the skills required to understand the history of these matters. 

“I’m certain there are no masters of the content where you come from.” He smells her fury again before she shoves it down. Ah, so she can hold her tongue.

“I like to listen, and I like to learn.” It’s a flat admission, one that Kylo finds himself to be somewhat pleased by. Anakin would respect her intellect.  

“Is that so?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Knowledge is power.”

She is right, Palpatine had preached this thousands of times before, but what would she know about power? Where would she use it? Why would she need to have it? The fact that she uses the term so generously infuriates him. 

“Perhaps. But there’s such a thing as knowing too much,” he sneers. “As a human girl, there are things you have no business knowing.”

The way the rage ignites in her body, he may as well have dumped a gallon of gasoline on an open fire.  

“I didn’t survive this long by being ignorant, you misogynistic asshole,” she growls, and the way her thoughts start spinning again tells him there are a myriad of insults she’s waiting to hurl at him. “Ignorance meant you starved for a day. Ignorance meant you ended up on your knees for some nasty slimeball with a raging libido. Ignorance meant you met an early death in the desert by crawlers.” In a reverse of the last bond, she gets up in his face, her cheeks flushed bright red. 

“Tell me what I need and don’t need again. I dare you.”

A dare? Oh, the little vixen wanted to play games. He feels his cock hardening at her defiance, and the part of him that’s a hopelessly infatuated fool is salivating at her feistiness and wants to put that sassy mouth of hers to good use. 

The other half is all wolf — who does not like to be challenged by anyone, let alone humans. Hostility thrums over his skin. 

In a split second he reaches out and grabs her, pinning her hard against his chest. She struggles and writhes violently, rousing his cock and a fresh erection grinding against her abdomen. 

“What you need is a lesson about respect, little Sola,” he snarls in a voice more animal than human. “Clearly, you have never been informed of your place, which is why you act more wild than an untamed bitch in heat.” He tightens his grip, anticipating the fury that his words bring out in her. “But I’ll enjoy correcting you.” 

She growls. “Fuck you!”

“Gladly.” He buries his nose in her neck and she gasps, first with shock and then with outrage. When he inhales, he’s overwhelmed. She’s tantalizing, pure and sweet. She cries out as his grip threatens to break skin and she fights, cursing and shouting for him to let go, and the way his thoughts go off on a thousand tangents in light of this unfolding situation makes him want to shift and take her here. He has no idea if it’ll work through the bond but it’s worth a shot, he muses. 

Suddenly there’s a small implosion within the threads linking their minds and he’s shoved away, skidding a few feet backwards. She’s staring at him, eyes wide with shock and fascination, as she looks at her hands. 

It’s as he suspected. She’s not only sensitive, but a user.  

“There’s certainly more to you than meets the eye, my prey,” he croons, no small amount of malevolence in his voice. 

“I am not prey, I am not a prize or trinket for you to claim,” she snaps. 

“Aren’t you?” He tilts his head to the left, unconcerned with her glaring daggers at him. He steps closer and it’s mirrored with her stepping back. 

“No.” 

“You are not a trinket, although that mark on your wrist makes you the most valuable human in Alaska.” He regards the tattoo that she hastily pulls her sleeve over. “And it makes you mine.”

“I am not yours, I belong to no one.” Her jaw clenches. 

“You belong to me, you have since the moment you were born. It was just a matter of time before I found you.” 

Her hazel eyes blaze with enough fire to burn down the Alaskan forest.

“You’re crazy,” she snaps, raising the shotgun again in a show of threat. “Stop looking for me, stay the fuck away from me.”

“Never.”

Her figure fades out a few moments later and Kylo is once alone in his den. His fingers tingle from where he touched her and it’s almost like she branded him with her scent, which is now permanently burned into his brain. All of his senses realign like the flip of a switch, and his eyes shoot open. 

The distant echoes of a familiar-sounding chorus perk up his ears, with the string pulling him away from the city and into the confines of his personal domain. 

Now that he has her scent, all he has to do is put his nose to the ground and follow it. 

Chapter Text

With simmering fury, Rey stares at the spot where the beast once stood, acutely remembering how his figure casted a shadow on the floor of her room as if he had truly been there with her. Even as she stares at the empty space, she realizes that his smell still lingers in the air. He smells like the outdoors, musk, and testosterone, the latter of which seems to hit her senses like a gust of campfire smoke every time she catches him staring at her flat chest and the curve of her ass. 

The asshole doesn’t even try to hide it, that positively avaricious glint in his eyes, like he wants to devour her. And he doesn’t hide it because he doesn’t believe he needs to. His words infuriate Rey, that satisfaction in his voice when he proclaimed she belonged to him. Like a possession. 

The thought made her fists clench. 

Rey spent the majority of her life belonging to an asshole in the form of Unkar Plutt, so there is no way she plans on going back to that hellhole in the form of a wild animal. 

The clock strikes five, and any interest Rey had in reading died with the unexpected visit of Kylo Ren. So she dresses in warm clothes and goes downstairs. She doesn’t sense anyone else’s presence but hers; Maz is probably at Takodana Pub by now, and who knows where Finn and BB are. Last she recalls, they were staying until the First Order got the hell out of town. And since Kylo Ren has decided to take an extended stay, they’re not going anywhere. 

Rey glances out the front window with a weary gaze. Maz says she’s safe here, but is she really? It’s not enough that Rey’s bound to Kylo Ren by this bond, but she has to suffer the arrogant prick every time it activates. Which, to Rey’s horror, is uncontrollable. And it will stay that way, because the only way for both users to utilize it for other purposes is to, and quote, “Consummate the bond.” Rey may be as ignorant as a newborn when it comes to matters pertaining to the pleasures of the body, but she has enough sense to guess what that phrase means. 

Hell will freeze over before she lets that animal touch her. And she’ll kill him if he tries. 

With a mug of chamomile in hand, Rey sits down in the back room and muses over the conversation she had with Maz before. Notwithstanding the lingering sense of confusion she’d grown accustomed to whenever she spoke to Maz over these matters, the old woman gave her several new pieces of information to think about. 

Maz initiated by explaining exactly what werewolf bonds were. 

“You can liken it to physical attraction,” Maz said, and then pursed her lips together, “with some other things thrown in. A lycan identifies his or her mate through pheromone compatibility. Or scent, if you want.” 

Rey sipped the tea, ending up tossed headfirst into the clinical details of breeding and mate claiming. It makes sense that those beasts are driven by their noses like most animals. 

Although the lycans she runs into aren’t driven by their noses. Like most perverts, it’s their cocks that do the thinking. 

“When males set their sights on a possible mate, they’ll do anything to claim her. And a female welcomes the advances if she positively responds through scent acceptance. If she doesn’t, well, she won’t be receptive.”

“And what does the male do?”

“Before, they took a hint and moved on. Now…” Maz trailed off. Rey huffed, her stomach curling at the implications of that statement and the disapproval on Maz’s face. 

“Savages,” Rey hissed into her mug. 

“Of course you would think so, Sunrey, you’re human, and in the complexity of human culture there are issues regarding consent and rape. But you must remember, werewolves are wired differently, and those concepts are no matter when estrous starts.”

“Estrous?”

“When females are the most sexually receptive.”

Rey shivered; as if that didn’t send images through her mind that she wished she could forget about. 

“No matter how messed up it may sound,” Maz said, detecting the young woman’s dissatisfaction, “it’s biology. It’s the way of nature.”

Rey decided it was time to close the door to that conversation and throw the key into a sewage drain. “Nature aside,” she made a gesture of pushing away, “how does that relate to my bond?” She pointed to her head. “What do I have?” 

“You’ve been imprinted on, and from my understanding, it’s akin to a werewolf finding their soulmate. They become bilaterally bound to their significant other through a psychological connection.”

The term Maz had mentioned a few days prior came to mind. ‘Soulmated.’ Rey heard that word before. In the useless books that were burned back in Jakku for kindling. It meant the love of your life, with some pretty, mystical predestined shit thrown in. 

“So you’re saying Kylo Ren’s in love with me?” The idea was enough to make Rey nauseous, horrified and incredulous, because he never looked at her as anything beyond fresh meat on a platter for him to devour. 

Maz hummed in thought. “You’re thinking of the romanticized version that humans conceptualized. It’s not completely wrong, but it’s not as simple. Imprinting permanently binds the minds of the werewolf and their soulmate together as one. Two halves of a whole. The extent of the bond captures true passion and takes it to its extremities while the werewolf internalizes the effects of their soulmate’s emotions along with their own. It can translate to love, but there can be infatuation, hate, obsession…”

The latter two being an accurate definition of Rey’s current standing with Kylo Ren. She nodded wearily, very aware of the way her emotions had been spiraling these last few days into something so foreign and visceral that it tore at her mind like claws into soft flesh.

“There are very few documented cases, so the science behind it is not not fully known. But werewolf culture takes imprinting very seriously,” Maz replied. “There’s a reverence to it, because it used to be regarded as myth. It’s largely interpreted as a sign of good fortune.”

Rey barked out a laugh. She could hardly imagine something as beastly as Kylo Ren imprinting on her being a good thing; in fact quite the opposite. 

“Now it’s unheard of for werewolves to have human soulmates. It’s interesting that Ren imprinted on you.” Maz cocked her head to the side. That contemplative expression on her face eerily reminded Rey of the way he looked at her, and she glanced away. 

“I would have preferred that he didn’t,” Rey grumbled irritably. 

“Couldn’t be helped. Forces do what they want. The spontaneity and the rarity of imprinting is what makes it a feature of religion and spirituality,” Maz went on.  

Rey’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t choose this? This isn’t something he did on purpose?” 

Maz shook her head. “No. Imprinting can’t be forced or replicated. And knowing what I know about that pup, he would have preferred not to at all if he had a choice.”

Rey recalled their first interaction keenly; he seemed even less enthusiastic about the turn of events than she was, if that was even possible. That unhinged glint in his eye haunts her even now. 

“Now the other parts you described, why you can see him, touch him, speak to him through the bond…” Maz had a thoughtful look on her face. “Very fascinating. I’ve never heard of such a thing being possible.” She reached over to take Rey’s wrist, studying the Luna Mark intently. “But it may have something to do with the fact that you’re both touched.”

“Touched?”

The old woman nodded. “Your marks.” And that was apparently enough explanation. But Rey wasn’t in the mood for more riddles, and made a noise of exasperation. 

“So what does the bond mean for me? How do I deal with it?” 

“There’s nothing either of you can do about it. It’s hardwired into his brain, and he will become attuned to your thoughts as time goes on. Each time the bond activates, the connection between you two will strengthen.” Something close to pity appeared on Maz’s face. “That means you’re going to start feeling his emotions, too.” 

That was a step too far over the precipice of what Rey could withstand, and she asked if they could take a break. Maz, with a sorrowful look in her eyes, nodded, and Rey spent two hours splitting wood to work out her frustrations. Her mind was racing at high speed and there wasn’t enough time to grasp onto any of the pieces Maz had thrown at her, so she lay on her bed, curled up in a ball, wishing all of it would disappear. 

Just like that, not even two hours later, the bond activated again, and now Rey’s down in the kitchen thinking on her options. 

Maz’s warning has rung clear ever since the second connection ended. Rey’s more than positive that the pressure at the back of her mind has something to do with him trying to push through, that sudden influx of violent emotions that would make anyone fall over and curl up on themselves, willing the pain away. It’s clear that any form of violence would empower a monster like him. Whatever this bond has created, or unleashed in her, is far beyond anything she could have imagined in her wildest dreams. 

‘The bond captures the passion, takes it to its extremity…’ 

Those ten words pound the front of her skull with the force of ten anvils. Is that how she can describe something so painful, so visceral, that it blinds her vision whenever she thinks about it? Is that why every time she sees that monster, she loses all sense of control over herself in one way or another? Are Kylo Ren’s emotions already breaking through the steel barriers she has bled for to erect around her mind? Rey bites her lip, rubbing the palms of her hands into her eyes. 

Like clockwork, the image of two gold rings appears in her mind. She knows it isn’t her imagination anymore. And that makes it worse. 

🌑

“Rey!”

She turns around to see Finn emerging from the back. He gives her a friendly smile, sensing her troubled mood. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

That’s how two practical strangers who have, for lack of a better word, been hiding under the same roof together for days. Finn steers clear of Rey for no other reason than he can sense her deep-rooted hostility, even though Rey can’t come up with a valid excuse to dislike the man. Besides being a werewolf, which he seems less and less like the longer the days go by. 

“What do you want, Finn?” He stares at her for a few moments, apparently uncertain as to what he wants to say. 

“To check on you.”

That is… not what she expected. Rey raises a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“You’ve been in la-la-land since Maz came back.” Finn flattens his lips into a grim line. “And I saw you chopping wood earlier like it was a half-dead werewolf pelt.” 

Strange that he uses that analogy, but he’s not wrong. Anything to vent her rage about this bond that she’ll be stuck with until she gets her jugular torn out or Kylo Ren gets his hide hacked to pieces by a silver knife. 

Finn steps into view and Rey eyes him patently. Today he’s not hiding within the confines of a sweatshirt hood, but actually projecting a sense of comfort in his surroundings for the first time since Rey met him. The flannel brings out his smooth, dark skin and the youth of his features, and Rey is able to appreciate how attractive he is. 

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” she replies bluntly. 

“Clearly.” Finn walks around the small couch and sits across from Rey, eyeing her intently. “It’s about Ren, isn’t it?”

Is she that easy to read? Or is it because Finn is familiar with the monster himself? She eyes him wearily. “Do you know him?”

Finn sits on the opposing chair. “No better than most troopers do.”

“Troopers?”

“It’s what they call scouts, the wolves beneath the warriors. We’re essentially the manpower of the pack.”

Rey nods, starting to get a slightly better picture of how complex werewolf pack hierarchy is, and it’s dizzying on top of the biology and spiritual lecture Maz dropped on her a few hours ago. “So you don’t know him well.”

“No, and I’m glad.” Rey watches Finn’s entire body ripple with tension, that familiar haunted look in his eyes. “He’s a beast, Rey. Almost as bad as Palpatine.” Who sets the precedence for a living monstrosity, Rey has come to realize. 

The pool of dread in her stomach deepens as Finn goes on a small rant about the two weres, but he instantly realizes his mistake, seeing the look on her face. “I’m—I’m sorry, Rey, I—”

“Don’t apologize. Lying would not have done me any favors,” Rey grunts. And ignorance is an easy way to get yourself killed; she told Kylo Ren as much when he had the gall to tell her she had no business knowing things. “Seeing I’m stuck with him thanks to this stupid bond…”

Finn gives her a pitying look, which she cannot stand the sight of, but she pushes her anger down. 

“I’m really sorry about that, too,” he says, and his sincerity tempers Rey’s indignation by a hair. 

“Stop apologizing for things you have no control over,” she replies, curtly. He has no need to feel guilty on her behalf. 

“It’s weird,” Finn says after a moment. “Imprinting is so rare, it’s special, and seen as a blessing. Yet of a few million wolves, it happened to Kylo Ren.” He spits out the name like it tastes bad. “I don’t know what the universe was thinking.”

Rey tutts, “I don’t think they were,” and then chuckles without humor. Finn does the same and gives her a half smile. 

“Can you feel it? The imprinting?”

Rey shrugs, she’s not willing to completely divulge what’s been happening with the bond, how she’s spoken with the bastard at least twice and every time she’s left wanting to stare into those hypnotically golden eyes until hers burn and claw them out simultaneously. 

“Kind of. It’s a pain in my ass,” Rey replies. “Apparently he’s going to start hearing my thoughts and I’ll start hearing his.”

The look on Finn’s face is so horrified it looks comical. “That’s unfortunate,” he exclaims, and despite herself, Rey giggles. It becomes a full-on belly-laugh, and she clutches her stomach, she has never laughed so hard about anything. Perhaps she has lost her mind if she’s laughing about this. 

“What’s so funny?” Finn looks like he’s worried for her sanity. 

“The entire situation,” she replies as her laughter dies down. “N-not the imprinting part,” she explains, as Finn raises an eyebrow. “It’s the irony. Me. A nobody. Somehow caught up in this werewolf shit.” She sighs loudly. “This… this shit doesn’t happen where I’m from.” 

“You’re not from here?” 

Rey shakes her head. “No, I’m originally from Jakku.”

“Jakku?” Finn sounds utterly incredulous. “There’s nothing there but sand and junk and rocks and sand and…” He trails off when Rey shoots him a look, and he looks meek. 

“Half-mutated humans and desert worms,” Rey adds dryly. “Hence why I wanted to get the fuck away from there.” She has no idea why she’s telling him this; no one except for Maz knows she’s from Jakku. It’s how she blended in. Becoming Rey Solana was surprisingly easier than she anticipated. 

“How did you end up here?”

That tidbit she’s not going to tell. “I met the right people,” she responds, and that’s the end of it. Finn’s clearly still curious, but takes the hint and nods.

After five minutes of painstaking silence, Rey aches to use her hands again and invites Finn to join her out back to chop wood. Anything to work out her anxieties for the second time today and it feels amazing to shove all of her energy into bringing an ax down through the stubborn logs. 

“So tell me, Finn.” Yes, Rey is making small talk. “You said Maz raised you, right?”

“She was a friend of my father’s, I believe,” is the wistful response. “He was a smuggler and always on the road, my mother passed away when I was young.” Rey feels the wound, raw and aching in his words. “So yeah, I grew up here.” He smiles, showing dimples. 

Rey nods, recalling how he admitted to being dissatisfied with his life, leading him to leave. “So why join the First Order? Were you not happy here?”

Finn huffs. “I could hardly call what I had happiness,” he says blithely, “because really, who is happy in these times? I was a young were looking for somewhere to belong, to have a purpose. Palpatine offered me that. I was too naïve to realize what it really was.”

Entrapment. Barbarity. Slavery. But Rey is too familiar with the deep-rooted craving, the desperation, to belong somewhere, even as she zealously tries to deny it to herself every night as she sleeps with a hole in her chest. She dislodges the ax from the tree stump. 

“Well, not that it matters, but I think you did the right thing,” Rey replies. “Following your conscience.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence. “It… matters.” Rey looks up and sees a warm sparkle to Finn’s eyes. Her lips curl upwards despite herself, and she gives a small smile. The kindness is something unexpected and she feels her body react, not with excitement but with warmth. The kind she wants to heat up her hands when she’s cold and wrap around her shoulders like a blanket. 

Overhead, the trees rustle pleasantly with the late afternoon breeze blowing through the dying leaves and twigs. But it’s when the wind changes direction and Rey suddenly feels Finn’s spine go so rigid she’s surprised he doesn’t pop a bone out of place. 

“What?”

His eyes are narrowed, features severe and canine, as she observes the lycan teeth concealed in his gums elongate into pointed, sharp fangs that could cut through her flesh like a hot knife through butter. Rey unwittingly takes a step back, both hands on the ax. 

“Get behind me,” he says in a wholly inhuman voice, and that’s all the warning Rey gets before she hears what sounds like animal snarls echoing from the surrounding forest brush. 

Fuck. 

That in conjunction with a tug through her ribcage that only seems to get worse tells her everything, and her gaze zeroes in on a giant wolf the size of a grizzly bear emerging from the bushes, flanked by six others, all roughly the same size but with different colored pelts. Their hackles are raised, creeping across the grass like they’re ready to pounce at any moment.

The one she stares at has a pure midnight pelt with metallic gold eyes, two rings that she saw on a wolf that followed her halfway across the western United States and stood outside her bedroom window in a dream days ago. Eyes that she can’t stop thinking about no matter how much she tries. His lips are curled backward in a menacing snarl, showcasing his massive teeth that are roughly the size of her fingers. 

Rey has seen big werewolves in her time, but fuck if this one doesn’t take the cake. His head is probably at the same height as her chest, even on all fours. His eyes are fixed on her and only her.

“Hello, Sola,” a dark voice purrs in her mind. 

Instantly her grip on the ax tightens. 

Looks like she’s going to have to deal her hand a little earlier than she anticipated. 

Chapter Text

The first time Rey encountered a horde of werewolves shoots through her mind as keenly as if it were yesterday. 

There’s something about watching the insatiable lust for blood washing over their inhuman, monstrous and otherworldly eyes, that sticks with you. The kind of visceral image that snaps into your mind at a random moment when you’re alone to your own tortuous thoughts and they absorb you in. The kind that turns your stomach inside out and wish you could forget the smell, death, the blood. 

New Jedha Junction. Lor San Tekka. Kira. 

The outcome of two lives destroyed and eviscerated. Left to rot inside a shell that could be blown away by the next sandstorm. No one would remember them, no one would know their names, their stories. Nobodies. 

Like Rey. 

Nobodies who met their end like so many others. It should have happened to Rey. There’s no rhyme or reason why Rey walked away from that when she had invited death. The thought of it is enough to make her insides tense, her grip tightening on the handle to the point of pain, her brain clouding over with a red haze that is wholly hers. 

Rey rarely allows herself to feel, for nothing good can come from indulging in one’s emotions and personal desires. Those, like a conscience, are next to useless when it comes to survival. Happiness, sensitivity, fear . They’re a ticket to a knife in your back or a gun to the face. 

But Rey has found that there’s something special about passion. Rage. Powerful tools, when they’re edged by a sharp dose of delicious, perfect vengeance. Especially when it chokes out the fear that threatens to consume you from the inside. Eyes of steel focus on the six werewolves who are staring at her like they want to feel her throat in between their teeth. She feels an energy, raw and potent, surging through her veins and for the first time in weeks, she feels alive. 

At her side, Finn has shapeshifted into a large werewolf with a glossy dark brown pelt and pristine canine teeth, looking more than eager to have an excuse to use them. The deep growl rolling at the back of his throat pricks every hair on the back of her neck straight up.

The charcoal-colored werewolf with a torn ear lets out a malevolent snarl that ripples across Rey’s skin like wind over grass and pounces. Finn readily accepts the challenge with a snarl of his own and collides with the other lycan midair, the momentum of his attacker sending them skidding backwards into the grass in a fit of fur. 

“Finn!” Rey watches with horror as a dirty white and brown wolf showcases a frightening array of razor teeth before going after his friend in throttling Finn. It isn’t a fair fight; they’re both much larger than Finn and they are tearing into him like vultures on a cattle carcass. 

That leaves four wolves for her to deal with but she doesn’t care, forgoing all previous survival instincts to never turn your back on the damned animals. Before she knows it, she’s sprinting over to help Finn with the ax raised over her head when she feels a tugging at the back of her mind, urging, no… commanding her . 

‘Do not interfere.’ 

Her muscles freeze on instinct as the voice in her head pounds through her senses with the merciless force of an anvil. The voice is different than all the other times and sends a chill skittering through Rey as she fights to keep it out. 

It isn’t the soothing, calm, familiar velvet on her skin. It’s insistent and possessive and angry, vibrating through her nerves with a fury she couldn’t have imagined, demanding nothing but compliance. Rey whips her head around to stare at the solid black werewolf whose gold eyes are glittering with something equally covetous and malevolent. Instinctively she knows it’s him. 

It can only be him. 

“Stay out of my head!” she shouts before tearing through whatever haze clouding through her mind. As she sprints in the opposite direction, the dark sienna werewolf has blocked her path, hackles raised and teeth bared in a show of threat. She’s surrounded, and this is usually the point where they all spring on her like starved scavengers. But all Rey can focus on is Finn’s yowls of pain and the anger burning inside her. Her vision goes crimson red with the urge to taste, to feel blood. 

“Out of my way, beast,” she snarls in Latin, and she’s swinging the ax like a baseball bat with all the ferocity she can manage. She hears and feels the crunch of sharp metal impacting flesh and bone and suddenly the werewolf is on its side, whining pitifully as it shakes off a wound cutting through the powerful chords of his chest, threading up into his blood-stained neck. 

The ax isn’t silver but it did some damage, given how there’s a nice coat of blood dripping off the cutting edge. Despite herself, Rey breaks out into a self-satisfied smile. 

Only a taste. 

There’s an outraged howl behind her and her senses inflame at the danger. The were with the black-accented pelt crouches low and in the next instant he springs with his talons extended, the intent written clear in his eyes. 

But he never makes contact with her, as a giant black mass of solid muscle and rage intercepts him and they go tumbling in a tangle of limbs. Rey is utterly bewildered to see her monster glaring down on the slightly smaller wolf writhing fruitlessly under his powerful body. The snarl that rolls up his throat is loud and dominating and horrifying and it makes Rey want to scrub her ears clean of a sound she will never, ever forget. 

The kind that promises murder and intent. 

Rey recovers quickly and hacks into the first werewolf she can, who is apparently giving his friend a turn at pummeling Finn senselessly. All she needs to see is the powerful teeth clamped down on Finn’s neck and she loses it. 

“Get off of him!” she shrieks, landing only two blows when a massive body barrels into hers, sending her airborne for the briefest of moments before she impacts the ground with a smack. She yelps as the air is completely knocked out of her but the giant face looking at at hers brings her back. 

A muzzle the size of her torso is inches from her face and the heat combined with the odor of his teeth makes her want to keel over and heave up her lunch. She tries to punch him but he pins her wrists on either side of her head, using the weight of his belly to keep her trapped in place. A pair of gold rings bear down through her like the edge of a knife and Rey forces herself to hold his gaze. 

‘Mine.’ The word rings clear and forceful in her mind. Rey grits her teeth in defiance. 

“Not… yours,” she whispers, and he buries his nose into her neck, making Rey gasp. His whiskers tickle her and she struggles under his grip that seems to tighten every second. 

Two gunshots ring out, snapping the two of them out of whatever haze had pulled their minds in. 

“That’s enough!”

Rey nearly melts with relief. Never in her life has she been this relieved to be saved by anyone, least of all a tiny woman with a silver bullet loaded shotgun. Ren whips his head up fast enough to give Rey whiplash as he growls, enraged. 

Maz’s clear, insistent voice breaks through the chaos with an authority that cannot be disputed. She doesn’t know what the woman says, but she feels the taste of battle go down, and the unbridled fury go up like a grenade launcher. She watches a storm of emotions cross Ren’s eyes in an instant as he slowly, reluctantly, extricates himself away from her, every tendon in his neck and face twitching with the effort. 

The moment he’s off of her, she scrambles to her feet and bolts across the small field of grass to help Finn while Maz handles the group of disgruntled, infuriated werewolves. Their fury’s oppressive and compressing against her body and coats the back of her mouth in an extremely bitter taste, not to mention her barriers being pounded by a dozen hammers. 

Finn’s lying on his side in the grass, and for a moment Rey fears he’s dead until she observes the ragged rise and fall of his cest. His pelt’s mottled with blood, lacerations slicing through his fur, and there’s clumps of fur scattered in the grass around him. The other weres did their best to make a chew toy out of him and she can feel his exhaustion, but at the same time, beneath it all is this refusal to cede defeat. 

“Hey,” she says softly, placing a gentle hand on the side of his belly. He reflexively growls from the touch, and she holds up her hands as a show of peace. “You’re okay.” For whatever reason, she reaches out and ruffles the fur behind his ears. It’s very soft, and she feels his heartbeat slow.

Brown human eyes look back at her with an emotion she can only identify as gratitude. 

🌑

It takes every ounce of willpower Kylo has not to leap across the field and rip his mate away from the traitor. 

Watching her fawn over him is a sight that has his teeth grinding so hard that his jaw aches. She shouldn’t even be touching him, let alone helping him. It was infuriating enough to watch her tear into his Knights for that troublesome scout of a wolf, but to defy him, her mate? For that, he wants to annihilate the traitor himself and offer the latter’s throat to her as a gift. 

The petite bitch with a shotgun in his face is almost distracting enough to tear his attention completely away from his mate, but the nagging voice pounds his head loud enough to give him a headache demands his attention. 

Maz Kanata. Of all the bitches in the state, it had to be her. 

His grandfather warned him about her. A meddler, playing both sides, whatever you wanted to call it. She took in strays, as Anakin put it, sheltering and hiding errant wolves or humans who arrived on her doorstep. Like his little Sola, apparently. But she had staked her claim with enough connections that no wolf could touch her. 

“You better have a damn good explanation for why you’re trespassing on my property.” Dark, fierce eyes peer up at him through large glasses before regarding Ushar, who’s shaking off the wound that Sola sliced through the side of his neck. Kylo glances down the long end of a shotgun but he’s hardly intimidated. For that to kill him, she’d have to unload an entire magazine into his brain. 

“Forgive us for the intrusion,” he replies in a coldly saccharine voice, “but we’ve been searching for the girl for days now, she’s wanted in connection with the slaying of two werewolves and attempted of a third. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

The old woman doesn’t blink. “First Order affairs are not my business to be bothered with.” Her eyes narrow. “And don’t try to play me for a fool. We both know why you’re here, Alpha Ren.” Her gaze drops to his forearm. “Aliam partem tuam invenisti.”

Kylo’s eyes widen an inch but he composes himself quickly. He shouldn’t be surprised that the woman knows, there have been whispers as to her abilities and the extent of her connection to the forces around them. 

“I imprinted on her,” he declares, feeling strangely light at the open admission, and a cold wave of fury that isn’t his drizzles through his limbs. 

“Congratulations.” Maz sounds disdainful, exasperated, and resigned all at once. “Still doesn’t give you an excuse to attack my wards.” 

“The girl attacked us first, we fought back. And the wolf you’ve been sheltering is a traitor.” Kylo’s voice is a sneer. “You know the rules.”

Maz’s left eye twitches. “Perhaps, but anyone on my territory is protected from retribution. You can ask Vader or that Supreme Leader of yours,” she goes on contemptuously, and Kylo growls low in warning for her disrespect. 

“I’m well within my rights. Surely you are aware of what happens when we imprint on our mates.” It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep his voice civil. 

“Keenly. But this is a different set of circumstances,” Maz replies harshly. She gestures to the girl, who’s still at the traitor’s side. “And whether you like it or not, she also has rights. Which means she doesn’t have to go with you if she doesn’t want to.” 

There’s enough fire in his mate’s eyes to burn the forest down, and part of him wants to let her. He smiles darkly. 

“And as for Finn,” Maz continues, “he was my blood before he joined the First Order, and he is my blood now.” Her eyes solidify into something dangerous. “You won’t touch him. If you do, I’ll call in reinforcements. And the First Order’s not the only one with powerful allies, Ren.” 

It’s a dare, the bitch is actually daring him, and it’s by the skin of his teeth that he manages to keep his talons retracted and not let his inner wolf make it clear what he thinks about that. 

“Are we at an agreement?” Maz knows as well as he does that his self-control is slipping. Her finger taps the trigger.

Kylo regards her indifferently. It would be so simple to just put the old bitch and the traitor down and take his mate, three birds one stone. 

But Kylo has never been one who prefers to do things simply. It’s not as fun.

“Yes,” he responds in a deceitfully calm voice, and to Maz’s credit, she raises a suspicious eyebrow at the beast who gave up his fight too easily. With one last glance at his mate, he shifts back into his werewolf form and leads his Knights into the forest, away from her. This sets off another war in his mind but it’s not loud enough to choke out his thoughts. 

“See you soon, little sola,” he thinks, and he hears her barriers drop like concrete blocks to let the fear she’s been holding in tumble out. 

His little sola can try to hide from him but she can’t hide forever. He smiles inwardly as a series of dark thoughts come to mind in all the ways he can secure her inevitable compliance. 

She’ll come to him willingly. Given the right incentive. 

Chapter Text

The moment Maz applies a salve to the gash slicing through Finn’s belly, the werewolf lets out a howl that makes Rey jump. 

“I can’t treat it if you don’t hold still,” the woman exclaims, and Finn lifts his head to glare at her as if to say, “I can’t help it! ” But there’s no threat behind it as he lets out a pitiful whine and complies. 

It took some coaxing to get Finn back inside the shop; they would have carried him if he wasn’t the size of a black bear and bleeding out. Rey was horrified at the sight of the angry welts slicing through his oak-brown fur, watching the pain ripple through his muscles as he forced himself to his feet. All the while, the vestiges of his fury simmered at the back of her skull like boiling water.

Wild, red, and unstable, like the embers of crackling fire. She shuts her eyes and the image of that muzzle, menacing, and unforgiving, as it stared down at her, comes back. His emotions flood through her at full force, and all she can do is reduce it to a buzz akin to a tolerable migraine. 

It'll have to do for now. 

“Why doesn’t he just shift?” Rey asks timidly. 

“Werewolves heal faster in their animal forms,” BB replies as he rubs a glob of bacta into a massive bite wound through Finn’s left front leg. The little boy, alerted to the sounds of werewolves outside the shop, came running downstairs with a rifle in his hands until Maz ushered him back inside before the Knights of Ren could spot him. 

Maz runs her fingers over Finn’s fur, and Rey’s heart nearly aches at the whines he lets out as he fights the pain. “Nothing really bad, just some battle wounds. He should be okay.” The old woman gazes up at Rey with an approving smile. “Nice swing, by the way. You taught that Knight a lesson, for sure.” 

Rey stares at her in shock before realizing what she’s referring to. The corners of her lips curl into a wry smile, remembering the sound of metal hitting bone. It was positively delicious and she wasn’t sure whether it was her bloodlust at the time or his. 

Meanwhile, BB’s big blue eyes bulge out of his head. “You beat the Knights of Ren?” There’s a childlike reverence in his gaze as he looks at Rey; she doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

“I hit one in the face with my ax.”

This time the little boy grins hugely. “Nice!” he praises, putting a hand on his hip. “Which one?”

Rey barely opens her mouth to describe his dark, mottled fur before Maz answers. “Ushar.” 

There’s a brief glint of disgust in BB’s eyes before he snorts. “Nice.” 

“You know who they are?” Rey stares at the little boy in shock, as he shrugs, like, What can you do?

“Everyone knows who the Knights are. You have to, so you know when to make yourself scarce. Besides, it’s easy to remember the name of someone you fear.” BB shudders and Rey senses a familiar sense of foreboding descend upon the room.

They become distracted by Finn starting to move himself around again, and the relief spreading through her body is enough to dilute her shock at the sudden maturity in the eight-year-old’s words. 

Because he’s right. How can she forget the name of her monster who bangs hard at her door every night, trying to shove his way in. Even now, she can feel it starting to splinter more at the hinges with every blow. 

Even through the walls, Rey can feel the heat of his gaze burning her skin like a brand.

🌑

“Glad to see you’re healing okay.”

The lycan jumps so high one would think Rey poked him with a pitchfork. At such a reaction, she steps back from the couch cautiously, holding up the hand that isn’t holding a mug of tea as she would to appease an aggravated canine. Which, for better lack of a term, has been Finn’s demeanor for the last two hours.

“I’m fine,” he replies curtly, elbows balanced on his knees as he stares ahead. A flicker of sympathy hits Rey, observing the self-disappointment that was evident in the stiffness of his posture. But she says nothing else. Instead, she walks around the back of the couch and holds out the steaming tea for him. His sharp eyes dart between her and her peace offering questioningly. 

“I like to have some tea when I’m feeling down.” She shrugs. “Plus it makes you feel good.” When he continues to stare at her, she gives in, “I’m trying to say thank you, damn it!”

Now his brow furrows further. “Why?”

“For what you did out there…” She points behind her with her thumb. “With the wolves, and everything. For helping me.” 

All the tension in his frame seemed to melt away at her words, and Finn’s dark eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Rey leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. “You stood up for me, and I appreciate that.” She remembers the odd feeling of having someone stick their neck out. It was almost unfathomable, a virtual stranger, risking his life to help her when he was in jeopardy as well. 

She won’t soon forget that.

Finn seems to notice this as well, and after a moment of pause, he smiles at her. A genuine one that brings out the dimples in his face. Had she noticed he has dimples before now? She’s not sure. 

“You’re welcome.” His voice is warm, and Rey sits down opposite him. He sips the hot tea and makes an “OK” gesture with his hand. “Good tea.” He sniffs. 

A silence shortly rises between them before it’s broken by Rey’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Damn it.” She leans back on the couch, running her fingers through her hair. Maz may have warned those monsters away, but a part of her knew it was futile. Any semblance of safety she may have felt before had been destroyed the moment Ren and his animals set foot on this side of the fence. The message was: There’s nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you. 

He warned her of that the first time their bond activated, after all. She supposes he’s a man of his word. So there’s no shortage to that semblance of decency. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Finn gingerly sets the mug down on the table. “Is it Ren?”

“Ren. Maker.” Rey shakes her head like doing so will rid his hold on her mind and his presence that refuses to go away; if anything, it seems to be drilling a hole deeper and deeper into her skull. So deep that it’s nearly impossible to ignore the thread, pulling through her chest like the end of a string.  

“You want to talk about it?”

“I really don’t.” Rey grits her teeth. “Kriff, fuck.” She throws up her hands in exasperation and claps them hard on her thighs. “Finn, it’s getting worse. I feel him. In here!” She pokes herself in the head. “All the time. Day after day. Like he’s…” She gasps for breath, the storm of anger, hopelessness, and anxiety choking her like a hand compressing her throat. “Pushing in.”

“That’s what he does, Rey.” Finn presses his lips into a thin line and grimaces. “He gets into your head, wants to see you squirm.”

“Well, the fucker’s succeeding!” That and what went down earlier in the yard seemed to have made it worse, Rey thinks bitterly. 

“You can’t let him know he’s getting to you. That’s how he wins.” 

Rey shoots Finn a dirty look. “I’m not talking about mind games, Finn! I’m talking about literally! The imprinting bond, or whatever it is. Maz said that it will bridge our minds!” 

Finn’s lips part in horror. Perhaps he assumed she was speaking metaphorically. 

“Yes, literally. He’s literally in my head. And I can’t get him out.” Rey shakes her head. “It’s this fucking bond.” 

She hears Finn's intake of breath as he leans back against the couch, eyes moving around in calculation. When Rey glances at him, she observes a very pensive and thoughtful look on his face that seems far more devious than she's used to seeing from him. She instinctively tenses, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, that’s how it works, isn’t it?”

Rey furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

The werewolf shrugs. “Well, you say he can see into your mind through the bond. Does that mean you can see into his?”

“Yes.”

“So, why can’t you use that to your advantage? If he can see your weaknesses, shouldn’t you be able to find his as well?”

Rey’s first instinct is to open her mouth, but then she shuts it, her response gone. Finn’s question completely catches her by surprise because she never thought of it that way before. In all her turmoil, fatigue, and bitterness, the idea that she could find an advantageous use for this bond never occurred to her for some reason. 

It’s an idea to consider. 

Unfortunately, Rey can’t dwell on it longer when she feels it. Tracing the side of her jaw, coiling down her neck and under the fabric of her shirt. 

It’s coming in a dissonance that she senses in the air as keenly as the morning mist. A breach that she knows well and one that will definitely make things worse if Finn’s around to see it or vice versa. She shoots to her feet faster than a jackrabbit.

“Rey?” Finn’s eyes widen in concern but she runs up the stairs at record speed and locks herself in her bedroom, ignoring his yells after her. 

Her eyes narrow, ears perked, listening to the sound of the outside wind whipping against the exterior walls. She sniffs the air twice; she smells him before she sees him, and the tension in her shoulders leaves. Oddly enough, she’s not alarmed anymore. 

She’s unsure whether she should be concerned by that or not. 

“I’m better prepared for these,” she says coolly, her back to him as she makes a show of putting on a jacket. If she’ll have to suffer his presence for a second time today, she won’t give him the satisfaction of exposing herself any more than she already has. “I can expect them now.”

Per usual, he plays his role of silent, observant sentinel, and she sighs in exasperation, irritated and disgusted. 

“You really can’t take a hint, can you?” When she turns around, she’s unbothered to see him standing not ten feet away. If anything, his gaze has somehow become even more predatory than the last time this happened, and it’s both terrifying, disgusting and exhilarating all at once. Her fists clench at her sides. “I told you to leave me alone.” 

“Never.” The violent conviction in his voice makes her flinch. Rey glances in his direction with a hateful glare, but he remains unmoved. “And it’s amusing that you think I dictate when this happens,” Kylo sneers in that condescending way of his. She’s come to take his projected arrogance with a grain of salt because it’s the only weapon he has to get under her skin. She rolls her eyes. 

“I heard you have freaky powers. Do something with them.” She gestures to his gait with a look of contempt. 

“Even if I could control it,” he responds, ignoring the majority of her statement, “why would I want to?” There’s something animalistically salacious with the way he looks at her. “I like this.”

“Like what?”

“Seeing you as you were, unassuming, blissful. Not knowing I’m watching you…” His eyes trail greedily over her figure, the nuances of his gaze teetering on the edge between avaricious and desperate. “Watching the fear in your eyes as you realize you’re not alone anymore like the frightened prey you are.” 

While the imagery certainly makes the pit of her stomach fill with dread, she forces a scoff. “Aren’t prey usually afraid of their predator? I’m not afraid of you.”

“Only because you think this bond will protect you.” He advances on her. 

“I think it’s done a pretty adequate job so far,” she shoots back. 

“I may not be able to use this bond to control you,” he says, and that clears her brain of every thought like the flip of a switch, “but I can still reach you, little one. Absolutely nothing, not even Maz Kanata, can stop that. I see you.”

“Just as I can see you,” she responds in a tone more icy than the Arctic tundra.

“You can see nothing,” he spits, but Rey senses a small note akin to either concern or anxiety hidden behind the vitriol. 

He’s right in the fact that she can’t, but his aggressive reaction suggests that it’s also crossed his mind at least once. Interesting that the ambiguity of her comment invoke such a response from him when she could be referring to the physical interpretation of the comment. 

“It doesn’t matter either way. You’ll never control me,” she snaps. “I won’t let you.” 

“You won’t have a choice,” he snarls, and she can feel the charge of the air shifting again, when the animal is about to forgo all pretenses of humanity. “You’re my mate, and you’ll submit to me.” 

Oh, there’s promise in every one of those letters and she knows it. He intends to make her yield by any means, at any cost. Rey swallows down the survivor instinct in her, telling her to walk away from this before she ends up digging herself into a deeper hole. The fighter, the one who never lets anyone walk over her, juts her chin up defiantly. 

“Over my dead body.” 

In a flash he’s on her, caging her against the wall with one hand on the base of her neck and the other pinning her hand over her head. The sudden proximity makes her yelp; it’s now when she’s unsure whether he truly can’t see her surroundings or he’s just toying with her. 

“You. Are. Mine,” he snarls into her face, his hot breath making her nostrils recoil as she winces under his unforgiving grip. “Mine!!”

“I am nobody’s!” she shouts back. 

He growls so low that her heart loosens in her chest, eyes like durasteel at her continued rebellion before he again dives into her neck. 

“No!” She tries to twist her face away but his hand around her throat keeps her still, allowing him to nuzzle around in her hair and inhale her scent as if she were spice powder. Through the bond, which is more open than ever, she feels his hunger, his desperation as he puts his lips to the base of her neck. Like one who had been on the leash for countless months and years, grasping at any vestiges of liberation they could find. 

The freedom to let go. She feels his canines nip the sensitive spot on her neck, sucking greedily, the tip of what feels like a large nose moving over the meat of her shoulder while her toes curl as she futilely tries to push him off. 

“Get off of me!” she cries. Being much larger, heavier, sturdier than her, her attempts to fight him don’t even faze him. 

“Take some evil inside you,” he snarls, rolling his hips against hers against hers. “Give you a taste.” 

And his left hand’s moving up and down her body, from her neck, cupping her breasts and pinching the tips of her nipples. There’s no gentleness to be found; this is gasping and starved, as he gropes her ass, running his hands over her like he’s memorizing every curve, every bump and dip in her body in the small amount of time he has before the bond cuts out. The touches send little shocks up and down through her that she’s never experienced, terrifying and mystifying her all at once. 

He growls low in his throat, his breaths heavy. “You feel divine, little sola.” His voice is oddly throaty and it sends an odd zing straight to her lower regions that makes her wince. Fuck, what is happening to her? 

He burrows his face in her neck, one hand keeping her pinned to the wall, the other on the base of her throat, stroking the finely-grained texture of her skin like glass. She whimpers and gasps as she feels her body respond to the touches. While aggressive, they seem to be hitting every one of her vulnerable spots. 

Her brain, which has slowly fogged over, grasps at a moment of clarity and her entire body stiffens. 

No!

There’s that burst of power that burns through her body within a fraction of a second, building up inside her before it snaps like a rubber band. He stumbles back, teeth bared. 

“Don’t ever do that again!” she snaps, rubbing the spot on her neck that is sure to bruise over. 

“Oh, little sola, I’m going to do so much worse than that when I finally have you,” he croons back, and the way he looks utterly feral sends true fear down her spine for the first time since she first met him. “I’m going to absolutely ravish you.”

Rey is shaking her head. “You think you’ll win? You won’t.” She juts her chin up at him. “I’ve met men like you before, I’ve suffered them, and I beat them. I’ll beat you too.”

The way his eyes crinkle then tells her that he’s grinning a Cheshire smile, every one of his canine teeth on full display. 

“Yes, but remember, little one, I’m no man.” 

Chapter Text

The taste of her fear coats the back of his mouth as her figure fades out, leaving him alone amongst the burgeoning nighttime wildlife. Inwardly he chides himself for the momentary slip-up; he had lost control of himself. But she smelled so delicious… it couldn’t have been helped; you can only dangle fresh meat in front of an apex predator for so long before he succumbs to temptation. 

Tasting her, feeling her squirm against him as muted pleasure shot through her body… It was pure euphoria that made his knot rock solid as it pressed against the swell of her belly. There’s no other word to describe it. 

Not surprisingly, his starved inner wolf is crying for more. He smirks. He knows it won’t be long now. 

In his wolf form, he rolls his shoulders back, taking a deep inhale of frosted pine needles to dull the hold her scent has on his brain and wrangles himself into focus. What happens next will entirely depend on his prey, and whether he has predicted her correctly. He’s confident that he has, at least on this matter. When it comes to human females, they are all the same when it comes to this.

And it’s far too easy for him to capitalize on it. He waits for a signal from his Knights, who have gone into the city seeking the target of his choosing. 

The remnants of his patience ooze from him the more time slips by. He feels the pressure in the tendons of his legs, the rigidity setting into his joints to a point that blisters through his fur. He subconsciously digs his razor claws into the half-frozen grass, the need to break, tear, kill washing over him and sinking into his muscles. 

Is this how his grandfather felt many years ago, when he suffered a similar agony to lay claim on Kylo’s grandmother? The feeling of unhinging, the animal detaching from the rational brain and taking over? 

Close to an hour later, Kylo’s enhanced hearing picks up the low harmony of loud howls resonating through the trees, down from the city where his Knights roamed, seamlessly sewing the chaos he desires. He sniffs the air. 

It’s charged, thrumming with electricity and iron. 

He tastes copper. Bitter, metallic, savory. It makes his eyes roll in the back of his head as the true beast takes over. He welcomes the sensation with eager, welcoming arms. 

🌒

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?” Finn asks for the umpteenth time. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Rey doesn’t help her case when she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes. Yet again, after one of those bonds, she’s left with a cancer-sized migraine pounding the side of her skull where she’s identified as the start of the string linking her to Kylo Ren. 

“Here’s some water.” BB holds out a plastic cup for her to take. Rey chugs it in one go and it does little to soothe her nerves. Finn has a white knuckle grip on the countertop as his eyes dart back and forth across a spot on the wall. 

“What did he tell you?” 

“Nothing,” Rey responds, “and that’s what worries me.” Because it was evident in everything — the putrid odor of primal design. It leaked from every one of his pores, that strange taste of metal mixed with the outdoors. A blend she can’t identify even though it left a pungent taste in her mouth. 

“You think he’s planning something?” BB queries, eyes wide. 

“Of course he is.” This is Finn’s dark comment. 

Rey wholeheartedly agrees. She shuts her eyes and thinks hard, pulling on the string as if it were made of glass. 

The way Kylo Ren spoke with her was no different than before… if she wasn’t paying attention. Which she always was. It’s instinct, written in her DNA since before she can remember, to keep both eyes open and her nose in the air. No predator, even the highest on the pyramid, is invincible all the time. 

And she recalls that ravenous look in his eyes: not overloaded by lust, as she’s become used to seeing. No, it was different. Like he was aching for something dark, inhuman, savage. 

It sent more than five chills down her spine. 

She can’t risk him jumping on the opportunity to barge in, which he will, and she’s still unsure of the mechanics of this bond. For all she knows, he may be able to see through her eyes and that is the last thing she wants. It will put Finn and BB in danger. 

She pulls on the string far as it goes, leaving the safety of her mind and into the volatile psychospace that she shares with Kylo Ren, a place that reminds her of a smoke-filled void that she can’t penetrate. Predictably, it leads her into a durasteel door. She knows where it leads. 

“But what?”

“Who knows. All I know is it won’t be pretty.” The finality in Finn’s tone all but guts her like a knife. As if he’s speaking the virtues of the Devil he knows — which he does. He’s seen Ren in action. He’s seen the beast clamp his jaws around the throat of a human and pull. Rey’s seen it too… the images kept her awake at night for months and she shudders. 

An errant thought occurs to her and it makes her muscles freeze. 

“Where’s Maz?”

BB gives her a strange look. “She’s been gone for a while, Rey. She’s down at Takodana Pub…” His voice drifts off, as he looks up at Finn for confirmation. “Right?”

“Yes.” The werewolf observes the anxiety in the boy’s blue eyes, and his features soften. “Don’t worry. Maz will be fine. Ren can’t do anything to her.”

That may be true. But what about all the other people in the city? Kylo Ren has no reason nor interest in limiting the amount of bloodshed he’s willing to reap. 

Rey squeezes her eyes shut again, following the string. She can feel it pulsing beneath her ribcage, tugging at her muscles and the sides of her skull as she arrives at that door again. What’s the likelihood that she can peek through a crack in the door frame without him noticing? 

🌒

He licks his lips twice. With one talon, he picks a piece of vertebrae from between his teeth and flicks it away, idly regarding the remains of a human he just finished digging into. 

On any day, he prefers some old-fashioned forest meat: elk, rabbit, beaver, bear. Throwing a human in there is no different than dropping a hot dog in the middle of fresh cut beef. But today, for some reason, it all tastes fantastic. 

It’s been a long time since he’s indulged this part of him so profoundly: the predator, that aches to taste viscera, nerves, muscles and bone between his jaws, the kind that prowls through the streets of his own design without any rhyme or reason. No laws, no reasoning, only a need to satisfy the monster within. 

The dark red, pooling in the streets, makes his vision burn and strokes the beast more. 

An ashy-colored lycan walks by, his paws, chest and mouth coated by oxidized blood and pieces of flesh. Kylo doesn’t recognize the wolf, but he supposes there are more than a handful of local weres, spurred to participate by a personal disdain or hatred for humans, were eager to take part in this little expenditure. They surely flocked from their homes with cold-blooded interest the moment that the Knights let out the call. 

Outside of Kylo’s periphery, two juveniles are picking at the remains of a headless, limbless, hollowed-out torso. Whoever got to it first was very messy with the kill and now its contents are scattered all over the pavement. 

The younger wolves bat at it like a pair of domestic house cats and it’s so pathetic he lets out a snarl, making them scatter instantly. 

Just eat, enjoy the kill, and be done with it. Don’t use the bones as a chew toy. 

He spares one disparaging glance at the mess before prodding on. His Knights have made their way down to the water, locking down the fishery and his target like forest rats. 

A push into his mind takes him by surprise, but it’s a far cry from the atomic explosion of her emotions that reminds him of a category 5 hurricane about to strike home, where it’s so chaotic that he doesn’t waste his time trying to filter through. No, there’s a level of cognizance and quiet that he knows is her way of trying not to be noticed. Had he not been trained, he would have missed it completely. 

He grins, showcasing red-stained teeth. 

‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away, little Sola.’ 

His grandfather predicted this, the propagation of the bond on both sides. The more it’s used, the stronger it becomes, flooding the nerves of his brain as well as hers until it can’t break. 

Inwardly he’s impressed that she has enough grasp of the bond to instinctively wield it, though the prospect of her poking around where she has no business being makes his fists clench. Still, in this one instance, it may be useful, since he has yet to master activating the bond itself. 

A gentle prod at the door, no louder than a simple knock. He feels her, an opportunistic mixture of anticipation and curiosity needling into his skin like coniferous leaves. 

‘Oh little one, didn’t anyone ever teach you not to play with fire?’ 

He waits until the attempted infiltration becomes no more noticeable than the brush of air over his fur. That’s when he yanks the door open. 

He feels the impact of her tumbling through into a dark hole she probably could not have imagined in the corners of her darkest nightmares. The repulsion, terror and hatred bleeds through in the split second before she’s gone, running, with the fear of her God in her eyes as she slams the bond shut hard enough that he’s certain he hears a door crack. Kylo doesn’t try to follow. He doesn’t need to. 

She’ll be here soon. 

🌒

“Rey?!”

“Rey!” 

She vaguely makes out two dissonant voices and two blurs materializing in front of her. But her head is killing her and she wishes she had a painkiller and an Aspirin. 

“Rey.”

She blinks twice and the shapes clear to reveal Finn and BB, both leaning over her with equally-concerned expressions on their faces. Her throat tastes like sawdust and her body aches, and she opens her mouth to ask what they are looking at until reality hits her. 

She turns her head from side to side and realizes that she’s on the floor. Huh. 

“How did I get down here?” Because that’s the smartest question she can formulate now. 

“You blacked out. For six seconds,” BB answers concisely. He lays his palm on her forehead and takes her by the cheeks, observing her. “Are you lightheaded? Do you need another drink?”

“I’m perfectly fine, BB, thank you.” Rey bats his hand away and sits up. Whatever happened when she retreated from Kylo Ren’s mind, was clearly not supposed to happen the way it did. 

But she had to get out of wherever she was. 

“What happened?” Finn asks. 

“Took your advice. Tried to use the bond.” Rey sits up and ignores the soreness in her spine from how hard she hit the floor. 

“What happened? What did you see?”

“Nothing I want to see again. The things in his mind…” Rey shudders from the sensation of being devoured, every part of him dominating her senses until he’s all she could hear and taste and smell and feel, being consumed alive as she has the flesh from her body ripped off piece by piece. 

But somehow she knows she saw and felt everything. The red, the taste of what she hopes isn’t what she thinks, the satisfying crunch of teeth crunching through the unmistakable texture of bone. And the cortisol level in her brain spikes, her thoughts focusing on that singular fact. 

“He’s killing people.”

“What?”

Huh. She said that out loud. Rey barely notices the shocked expressions on the boys’ faces before she gets to her feet. 

“Now. In the city. He’s killing people.” Rey goes to the back room where Maz keeps the silver-loaded magazines. “He, or some other wolves I don’t know.” Her eyes widen. “The wolves who attacked us.”

“The Knights of Ren?” BB looks horrified and a dark expression crosses Finn’s face. Rey will never cease to be impressed and a bit unnerved by the speed of his human face being able to become so animalistic in the span of three seconds. 

“Yes. Them and others. Now. I don’t know why, or…”

“He’s luring you to him.” It’s Finn who speaks, and Rey feels the stone of dread sinking deeper into her stomach. Her mind was too muddled to arrive at that conclusion before he did. It’s the most logical explanation. 

He can’t take her from Maz’s. So he came up with something else. 

“Rey, you can’t go!” BB protests, watching her shove every silver weapon from the trunk into her satchel. Finn is shaking his head.  

“We need to do something about this.” 

Rey levels Finn with a sharp look as she shoves the match inside her bag. “ We don’t need to do anything. This is my shit to handle.”

“What?”

“Hell no!”

Rey is surprised by who says what, and even Finn regards the eight-year-old boy with a chastising expression. BB’s cheeks bloom pink and he mutters an apology. 

“You’re crazy if you think you’ll be able to go against Ren and win,” Finn says seriously, mending his statement when he observes the flint reappear in her gaze, “no offense to you and your abilities, of course, but there is a reason why he’s the Primus Ren. He’s the strongest, most vicious and deadliest werewolf around. He could squash you with his pinky.”

“He’s supposed to be my mate, right? Doesn’t that mean he won’t hurt me?”

She half-expects a reassurance from Finn but he only grimaces. BB also looks uneasy. 

“Technically, yes. But with Ren…” Finn’s voice drifts off. Let it be said that Kylo Ren is an entirely different breed of werewolf, Rey’s coming to realize. 

Everything he’s done toward her so far surely indicates his potential to harm her, even though the general consensus she has held to reality is that werewolves are incapable of intentionally harming their mates. It’s the way their brains are wired that physically prevents them. Maz told her as much during one of their many Q-&-A conversations leading up to yesterday.  

But Rey is not naïve enough to believe that Kylo Ren won’t harm her by accident. He’s a hunter and a monster. Monsters don’t care what happens during their drive to get what they want. 

And if there’s one thing Rey knows, it’s that werewolves will do anything and everything to get what they want. 

“He’s going to kill more people if I don’t go,” Rey exclaims. “And besides, you’re wanted by the First Order. If you leave this property, it’s fair game.”

BB shrugs with an indifference too mature for his age. 

“I’m protected either way,” Finn reminds her, although it doesn’t sound like a reassurance.

“Do you really think Kylo Ren and his dogs will honor that?” Rey cries incredulously. She can’t imagine any of those animals abiding to any law but their own.

“Not in the slightest but you still can’t go alone.” Finn looks hard into her eyes, heavy with meaning. “Rey, you’re going into the wolf’s den. Literally. You definitely need backup.”

Rey wants to argue but the reminder of an eerily metallic taste in her mouth shuts her up. She rolls her jaw contemplatively; she can’t allow Finn and BB to go with her. That’s asking for them to get hurt, and she doesn’t want that to happen. 

“You’re not going to win this,” Finn insists, not unkindly. “Besides, you stuck your neck out for me before, now it’s my turn.” 

That vaporizes any protest Rey has, and it makes her feel funny. The warm kind, like being given a hug by a teddy bear or something like that. Her lips twitch, and she fights a small smile. 

BB’s voice snaps her out of her reverie. 

“So are we leaving or what?” 

Rey fixes him a look. “You’re not going anywhere.” Fuck no. Finn, sure, she can let herself be okay with that. He’s a werewolf, he can take care of himself. But BB, a child? 

“Yes I am.” The little boy reaches past Rey and takes the shotgun she loaded with a silver magazine. It’s at least three heads taller than he is and the sight would be comical if the circumstances weren’t so grim. 

BB gives Finn and Rey a look that is any child’s way of saying, Try me.

Rey stares at him in cold bemusement. The werewolf snorts. “Well, I guess that’s settled.” 

Chapter Text

The foreboding thrill of adrenaline coiling at the back of his mind tells him that his prey’s approaching; he licks his lips eagerly as he and the others close in on Maz Kanata’s other place of business. The one place in Juneau where werewolves choose to mingle with humans. Kanata plays to her ridiculous position as an enforcer of peace more than is dignifying, and although it’s misplaced, he can respect her for her dedication. 

Sitting right by the fisheries, the place looks and smells quite off-putting, and it won’t be long before erosion sends it sliding into the water. The earlier chaos terrified the rest of the humans indoors so the streets are bare save for the leftover carnage and stragglers, and most lycans have no desire in breaking through windows boarded up by wooden planks.

No, they’ve either lost interest or turned to the forest for prey. Of course there are the few who still follow, greedy for more bloodshed and an excuse to kill. 

The restaurant’s set of doors have been ripped off their hinges and thrown across the floor. Trudgen and Vicrul plus some other werewolves are already inside, cornering a small group of humans with a collective stench of rot. Four wolves bare their teeth at the Knights in a show of defiance that almost amuses him. Maz Kanata’s flanked by two wolves who are obviously restraining themselves from attacking him. Ah. Arctic wolf loyalists. 

She steps forward, kicks the corpse of a dead werewolf at least four times her size with a shotgun cocked over her shoulder. There’s an element of nonchalance to her countenance that betrays her total lack of surprise.  

“Kylo Ren, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” she exclaims. 

“This is hardly my best work.” He surveys the massacre disinterestedly as a few brave humans aim their shotguns at the approaching wolves, whose eagerness to taste flesh clear in their raised hackles and twitching hindlegs, waiting for the best moment to pounce. 

The tawny-furred bitch on Maz’s left bares her teeth at him, and it’s absurd, seeing something so vicious-looking on someone so small. Kylo recognizes her as Rose Tico, from the North Arctic pack, and your average smart-mouthed bitch in need of a knot. 

The only reason he remembers her is because she gave First Order trouble four too many times and was the Delta for a few years before she left; plus she has a woman for a mate — unnatural in itself. He growls low in his throat and she lowers her hackles by a fraction of an inch. 

Maz clicks her tongue, disgusted, and gestures to the blood-soaked scene around them. “Your mate denies you, and you conjure up this storm of bloodshed to coerce her into giving herself to you. You have lost yourself completely.”  

The bitch is nothing if not perceptive, and Kylo grunts, recalling the woman’s freakishly uncanny skill to attune herself to the minds of everyone else, even ones that are locked in dark corners. Nothing gets past Maz Kanata and he’s long suspected her to be Sensitive, if not a User.  

“You know as well as I do Maz, humans are fickle, if not predictable,” he murmurs through an oily voice. “And their predisposition to base their judgment on emotions is a weakness I will always be able to count on.” And one I plan on utilizing to the fullest extent. 

Just the barest hint of rage clouds Maz’s eyes, and for the normally stoic woman, it’s a large breach of emotion. “Anakin and that beast have ruined you.”

“No more than those traitors you call friends,” he retorts icily, brushing off the statement with no more than a flick of his hand. 

For the barest of moments Maz appears to want to debate this, but immediately thinks better of it. This pleases Kylo greatly; one of the credits he will give the bitch is that she doesn’t waste time on a futile talking point. 

But then her eyes soften a hair, but her voice loads with warning. “You will never win her this way.”

Oh, she’s trying at another angle, opting for the scolding schoolteacher tone she used on him when he was a pup and he had no care for shapeshifting etiquette. 

“How I win her is of no significance, she is mine, and her place is at my side.” He can’t help how angrily possessive he sounds, and it’s clear that the damage inflicted by the mental strain done by the separation from her lines the starvation in his voice. “She’s my soulmate.”

Maz shakes her head again, disgust etched into every one of the million lines of her face. “Yes, and she is a warrior; your equal in every regard that matters. You will never earn her love if you force her, and you certainly won’t tame her.”

Kylo smiles, all teeth and animal, as his eyes glow a frightening gold. “Whether she loves or hates me is irrelevant. At the end of the day, she belongs to me, and I will have her.” His eyes dilate into something worse than inhuman as he places the inevitable out into the universe. “No matter what it takes.” 

Something intense glints behind Maz’s canine-hooded eyelids. She raises a hairless eyebrow and there’s a note of pity in her gaze that infuriates him. The fact that the bitch still believes she could have any sway over him is just plainly absurd. 

Perhaps he would have valued her wisdom in the past, after all it was of merit, more often than not, but those days are long over. 

But she doesn’t stop, offering him one last warning that hits him right in the chest. 

“If you continue down this path, you will make the same mistake Anakin made with your grandmother.”

The ferocity at which Kylo’s wolf takes hold is blinding. A chill runs down his spine at the images ugly words spoken by haunted voices filtering through his mind. A proxy case of soulmates gone horribly wrong, any fable’s case of forbidden love that could not have been prevented, even by blood feuds and long-dug grudges. A case of soulmates that ended up destroyed; one dead, loved and privately mourned, the other cold, bitter… maybe mad.  

“That will never happen,” he snarls, and he flinches minutely at the thought of something of that magnitude. He has barely known her yet the idea of living without her is inconceivable to him; anathema. Anakin thought the same years ago of Padmé, he knows. But there is no feud, no war, no rival keeping his mate from him. The only thing in his way now is her pride and her stubbornness. Once he has her, it’s a matter of seducing her to his side through any means, at any cost. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

🌒

After living in Jakku for so long, Rey hoped to never see the contents of a human torso trailing across asphalt again in her life. 

Death was the occupational hazard of living in a place like that; the first time she saw a corpse she was eleven years old and it was completely mummified. Plutt’s response to her question: “An imbecile who was stupid, and you’ll end up the same way if you aren’t smart.”

She has gone so long without seeing something as revolting as torn human carnage that when she sees what she thinks is an entire human spine and part of a rib cage with some flesh stuck to it, she pulls her motorbike over and heaves up her lunch into the grass. 

Once she composes herself, she resumes her journey into the eerily quiet city that has red-stained, bone-littered streets. The stench of death is suffocatingly noxious, to where she knows it’ll seep into her clothes and remain there no matter how much she tries to wash it away. For it’s burned into her brain forever, she knows. 

Kylo Ren has delivered on his cruel promise; doing whatever it took to get to her. Encouraging the brethren who are as vicious and bloodthirsty as him to satisfy their hunger with the flesh of innocent humans. 

“R’iia have mercy,” she gasps. 

The utter revulsion she feels — for the massacre, the situation, for him — burns her throat and she chokes back tears, wishing that this wasn’t real, that this isn’t happening, that she’s caught in a nightmare she hasn’t awakened from. 

The bond is firmly shut, more quiet than the unsettled waters of a moon pool, and that’s what tells her that he knows she’s coming. Because of course she is, anything to stop him from continuing the bloodshed the moment the moon rises the next day. While Rey cannot see herself as a selfless person, she will not allow dozens of others to die on her behalf when they have done nothing to deserve it. For death is not justified unless it’s warranted, she reasons. 

A werewolf on the side of the street glances up at her from his chew toy to give her a look she can only classify as disdain. But the fact that he isn’t coming after her is telling enough. But she can barely focus on it when she realizes that she’s at the fishing docks. 

Doesn’t even smell like fish. It reeks of death, lust, and… him. He’s here. 

The bond brought her here. She shuts her eyes and feels the long end of the string, curled around the end of a talon that’s pulling her forward. Harsher and more impatient, entitled. 

She places her hand on the hilt of the dagger on her belt as she senses a charge in the air that reminds her of firecrackers and sparks, tickling the hairs on her arms. 

Then he emerges through the gaping hole in the wall with two wolves behind him. She knows them. BB called them the Knights of Ren. But she can only focus on him. Her heart pounds through her chest like the beat on a gong, amassing his size for the second time again and ignoring the way her entire body starts to flame with the way his scent coats the back of her mouth, rubbing over her skin like soft velvet, the myriad of human emotions in his eyes that don’t belong to a monstrous animal. 

“Hello, little sola.” The words are crooned into her mind. She narrows her eyes and reaches into the bond. 

“Hello, Ren,” she snaps back. 

Chapter Text

Cliché. 

If there’s any term Rey could use to describe the rush leading up to this moment, that’s it. Because all she can feel is hungry anticipation threading through the nerves of her body, a familiar mixture of adrenaline and cortisol pumping its way from her brain into her fingers, stomach, legs, and toes, putting her skin on edge. The thread in her mind thrums with heavy purpose.  

Except it’s not her anticipation. It’s his, because right now the only emotion that’s hers is rage. The need to sink her teeth into something and make it bleed. Claw it into shreds. 

For a moment, all is silent. An audience forms around them, enhanced canine senses drawn to the change in the air, the unusual scene like sharks to blood. Rey, a lone girl amongst a horde of animals, stares her monster, Alaska’s most vicious monster, down. But the way the minute human element to his eyes is now quivering in desperation… that concerns Rey deeply. 

“Are you going to just stand there?” she calls out, sounding a lot braver than she feels. Because with at least ten pairs of werewolf eyes on her, she feels no different than a forest mouse caught in the wolf’s den. “You wanted me to come. Here I am!”

She waits for a response, and she hates the suspense, as well as the satisfaction and amusement he’s getting from this, watching her try not to squirm under the scrutiny. Rey watches as he shifts from animal into a fully-clothed man, managing to hold in her gasp by the skin of her teeth. She’s never witnessed shapeshifting before, and she doubts she ever wants to again, given the painful-sounding crunch of realigning bone, fur melting into flesh, anatomical structure transforming from lupine to man. 

“I knew you wouldn’t delay too long.”

His smug tone makes her want to take a silver knife to his face, and her gaze flickers to the open doorway of the restaurant, where the smell of blood wafts out. “Where’s Maz?”

“Unharmed,” he replies, maneuvering around the question. Rey’s eyes narrow, observing him. He remains as masked as he has, except the two rings under his eyes seem heavier than she remembers. The confirmation that she made him lose sleep gives her a sense of smug satisfaction. ‘Serves the bastard right.’

“I want to see her.”

The skin around his eyes crinkle in an indicator of a smile that without a doubt is showing teeth, and Rey’s heart goes into her throat. Wordlessly, he steps to the side, a silent message to let her pass. She sprints towards the hole in the wall until he lets out a warning growl, massive pale hand wrapping around her arm faster than a forest snake. 

The werewolf instinct to hunt what runs from them. They lock eyes for half a second before she tears from his grip, ignoring the onslaught of pressure at the back of her skull, as she’s confronted by a grisly sight. 

Seeing the carnage on the streets prepared her, so she doesn’t heave up bile, but she gags in her mouth at the stench of rot and blood and death. 

She pointedly ignores the shredded wolf and human carcasses, not a square foot of the Ileenium cedar floor not drenched in blood or flesh or fur, searching the ransacked remains of the restaurant. “Maz?” She calls out her guardian’s name thrice, hoping from the bottom of her soul that the silence isn’t the final edict. 

“Rey!”

She finds the woman slouched on the floor, and from the looks of it, Maz was in a fight that she clearly didn’t win. 

“Did he—” Rey crouches down and takes Maz’s hand in hers, seeing cuts and bruises and what she suspects are wounds under her clothes. “He—”

“No, it was one of the others looking for an excuse.” Maz gestures to a bloody mess on the floor. “I took care of him.”

The sight conjures up a likeness of roadkill that Rey chokes on, but she can’t focus on it for too long with the danger looming on the outside; Kylo Ren’s oppressive presence is doing its best to work his way into her mind. 

“Maz, I am so sorry about everything, your business, your home—”

“Hush now. None of this is your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Rey rushed in a guilty voice lined by bitterness. “If I hadn't come here, none of this would’ve happened…”

“None of that, you do no one a favor by blaming yourself.” Maz sternly takes Rey’s hands in hers. “He chose to rob you of your choice in the worst way he could. He chose this path, no one else. He may be tied to your mind, and you his, but you did not incite him to do this.” Maz glances over Rey’s shoulder, the twitch of her eye muscles confirming their talk is already coming to a conclusion. 

‘Impatient bastard.’

Rey bites her lip so hard it bleeds. There is so much she wants to stay, and not nearly enough time. 

“Don’t lose your way, Rey.” Maz whispers urgently. “No matter what happens, don’t let those beasts douse your fire, break your spirit.” The forward tilt of her head is her request of reaffirmation. 

It’s instinctual that Rey’s face glows with determination as she nods, and when she hears an approaching set of footsteps over the floor, Maz furtively removes a piece of jewelry, a pendant with a blue stone at the end, and places it around Rey’s neck. The girl strokes the stone with a questioning look on her face. 

“To remember me by.”

Rey swallows a tear, heart breaking, as she hears the beach footsteps over the floor. A large mass of heat, hungry and consuming, and Rey tucks in the necklace as she gets to her feet. There is less than an inch of space between herself and Kylo Ren, and she cranes her neck back to look at his face. His molten eyes tell everything: naked, unbridled desire, and it plays on a neural note of her brain that makes her lower pelvic muscles clench. 

Nothing is said, but she pushes the message loud and clear: “I’ll never give you anything.”

A smile. “We’ll see.” He spins her with a finesse entirely undeserving of a man that size and grips the back of her neck in an unforgiving grip, directing her towards the exit. She does her best not to flinch under his touch. 

“Don’t forget what was said, Ren,” Maz calls out. 

Rey winces when Kylo’s hand on her tightens. Her shields slightly drop, allowing a potent extent of Kylo’s rage to flood in. 

“Noted,” is all he replies in a voice more frosty than the mountainsides of Oymyakon, before he forces her forward. 

Rey throws up her shields, praying to the Maker that this beginning of a nightmare won’t become any more bloody than it already is, as the stuffy air of the restaurant feeds into the cold veil of the outside. She glances once more at the carnage and feels her chest burn all over again. 

“You’re a monster,” Rey snaps hatefully. 

“Yes, I am.” There’s undisguised arrogance in his voice and Rey shudders, starting to fully comprehend for the first time just what kind of evil she has been bonded to. She feels him lean over her shoulder and she stiffens at the proximity for reasons she doesn’t want to acknowledge. “And unfortunately for you, I am your monster.” 

She can’t fight the way she shivers. 

“Ap’lek! Ushar!” He bellows loud enough that she jumps, catching the movement of two werewolves eyeing their master with keen aptness. Kylo barks out orders in rapid Old Latin but Rey can only focus on the strange way her body feels. How all her nerves began to buzz the moment he touched her, an itching sensation forming at the base of her neck where his hand lingers.  

Her heart stops. Upwind she catches the scent of fresh spring grass, followed by a muted, more mature scent of dark oak. BB and Finn. They insisted on coming on the off chance she was attacked. 

She had to beg them not to interfere, because a very prominent voice at the back of her head warned her how Kylo Ren would have no qualms ripping them apart in front of her. If earlier was any indication, he’s looking for an excuse to hurt Finn, and Rey can’t let that happen. 

“You won’t get away with this.”

“There’s nothing for me to get away with.” There’s a primal satisfaction to his voice that strokes her fury. “You are mine, and not a damn thing was going to get in my way of having you.”

Rey opens her mouth to hurl a witty comeback when the air surges once more, prickling her skin and rousing her suddenly sharper senses that allow her to hear the scraping of shoes on asphalt, the screeching of talons on metal, even hundreds of feet away. 

Kylo’s dark chuckle makes her jump. 

“Seems your friends had to play heroes, didn’t they, little one?”

Rey starts to thrash in his grip; he has one hand wrapped around her bicep and another circling her throat. In the back of a toppled pickup is BB, wide eyes focused on Rey with a small note of disgust reserved for the wolves. She can’t see Finn, he’s likely still in the vehicle, but her body tenses. 

“Don’t hurt them.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Kylo hisses back in a baleful promise, and the way his hand trails up her breast is a frightful indicator of the insidious plans he has for later. 

“No!” She forgoes all pretenses of stubbornness and bravery, looking up into his eyes pleadingly. “Please, they only came in case I got hurt. They weren’t going to take me from you.”

“Admirable motives, if not misplaced and foolish. I would never allow anything to hurt you.” The truthfulness in his tone almost knocks her backwards, a gentleness there that is so stark that she does a double take to be sure she didn’t imagine it. With the snap of a finger, the darkness returns again. “However, I have other orders, propriety and protection be damned.” He raises his voice, switching back to Latin to address the wolves. “Take the pup alive, he belongs to the First Order. Kill the traitor.” 

“No!!” Rey screeches, putting all of her strength into prying him off of her. 

The scene descends into chaos and Rey can barely hear the agonized shouts over the blood pumping in her ears. It all seems to go to a halt when the gun goes off, and she feels something shoot through the left side of her abdomen like the tip of an arrowhead. The accompanying snarl that rips up Kylo’s throat is disorienting and her ears ache.

Her body jolts, her breath catches, and her head starts to spin. 

Chapter Text

Being shot is a strange feeling. 

It’s happened before. Neither of them is a stranger to the pain of a speck of metal cutting through the flesh and nerves of their bodies faster than the speed of sound, the pain of artificial metal slicing through muscle, tissue, and bone yet it takes them by surprise. 

The puncture sends a nerve-riveting sensation of fire through the body, paralyzing and forcing everything to a halt, for one minuscule, blessed second of silence, before the sound of a bullet puncturing through the silent sound barrier sends off a domino effect of shockwaves that send them flailing backward. Whether it goes through or becomes caught doesn’t matter at the moment. 

And then all that’s left is a high, shrill ring. 

🌒

He doesn’t hear the shotgun go off but feels the sting of a bullet fired from the hunter’s weapon as it slams into his side, knocking him back and halting his intake of breath. 

He also hears his mate’s agonized cry as the shock jolts them apart. Seeing the look of pain on her face helps his brain fall back into sync with his senses as the chaos unfolding around him becomes apparent. 

Wolves are tearing into each other and all he can hear is the sound of tearing flesh. Vicrul and Trudgen are finishing off FN-2187, while many other wolves he doesn’t recognize jump into the chaos like bear pups to honey. 

His mate staggers over, clenching at a ghost wound. He watches a tendon in her jaw twitch, she bites her lip to ignore the pain. The shock registers on her face when she sees there’s no blood on her, and her curious eyes dart to his side. 

Movement outside his periphery catches his attention. The one who let the bullet loose is the red-haired pup, bright blue eyes zeroed on him and wide as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. The astonishment quickly transforms into fear, stroking Kylo’s appetite like preening hands on a pet’s head. 

He feels his hackles raise. 

🌒

Rey follows Kylo’s bloodthirsty line of sight to see BB warding off two wolves who look more than eager to eat him alive, and if the merciless red haze brewing at the back of her mind is any indication, Kylo’s just waiting for a chance to do so. 

“BB, RUN!” she screeches, grasping for the dagger on her belt. 

There’s an unforgiving sting in her bones as Kylo shifts, and she’s unable to dwell on the unfortunate revelation that their bond has progressed further into its development where they share each other’s pain. The sound of two large bodies impacting combined with a spike of fury tells her that he met an anxious opponent, a distraction she appreciates. 

Ignoring the inherently malicious voice in her mind that seems determined to block out her thoughts, Rey darts through a horde of wolves who are too distracted by each other to notice her, and digs the blade into the neck of a sand-colored werewolf. She feels the metal hite bone, just beneath the scapula. 

The wolf howls in agony and rears backward, pushing all his weight into throwing her off. But the silver cuts deep, the eight-inch blade buried in his body, and Rey yanks her arm upwards. 

It’s not pretty, it’s gruesome and belongs in a horror film. The head almost entirely comes off like the lid of a can, producing the loudest squelch Rey has ever heard and never wants to hear again.

BB shrieks; Rey sees is red. Her stomach churns, but she pries her weapon loose, kicking the corpse away and finding herself almost completely drenched in blood. It’s been some time since she’s killed with a vengeance, and immediately the burst of adrenaline with a twisted sense of satisfaction come flooding back like old memories that overrides the horror she wants to feel. Her eyes roll back in her head and she shudders at the sensation. 

BB stares at her, his blood-speckled face whiter than a sheet, but he recovers and shoots two wolves off of Finn with a precision Rey can’t fathom from an eight-year-old. The giant metal slugs go through their heads, slicing their brains in two, and Rey can’t wrap her hand around how oddly detached BB seems. The glint in his eyes is terrifyingly lupine. 

“Is there a plan?” he queries as he unloads the magazine with relentless vigor. 

For a split second, Rey contemplates chucking him upside the head; a full-out brawl was not her intention when she agreed to let BB and Finn accompany her. But that won’t do anyone favors, especially when she spots Kylo Ren hurling the body of a tawny-furred wolf into the side of the building with his teeth. 

The killing won’t stop, at least not here. 

“We have to draw them into the forest.” At least she can try to prevent other humans from getting hurt or her… companions … from becoming werewolf chow. 

“I got the car!” BB sprints off without a preamble, not giving Rey time to ask how the fuck he knows how to drive. She quickly searches for Finn, who’s extracting himself from the motionless body of a russet-furred werewolf. His pelt’s matted with blood and mud and Maker knows what else. 

“Finn!” 

He whips his head in her direction and ambles over; all things considered, he seems relatively okay despite large patches of fur missing. He takes one look at her blood-soaked clothing and sniffs her urgently, she runs her hand gently over the gash near his shoulder. “Are you alright?” He bobs his head, reassured that the blood isn’t hers. 

A violent snarl draws their attention to Kylo Ren who, with his fur prickled, looks twice his already large size with his lips curled so far back into a ferocious sneer she can see all his gums. If she thought he looked murderous before… this takes the cake. 

Rey feels genuine terror trickling down her spine for the first time since meeting him. 

Finn nudges her and that’s all she needs, doing her best to reduce Ren’s fury to a mostly-ignorable buzz in her brain, and the second she jumps on Finn’s back, he takes off into a sprint faster than she’s ready for and she frantically wraps her arms around his neck, praying to Glory Maker that she doesn’t fall off. There’s an unholy yowl that rips through her ears like twisted metal on chalk and her heart goes into her throat. 

She buries her face in Finn’s fur, the wind whipping in her face as she feels the rippling movement of his muscles under her. The rapid beating of his heart could rival the urgent, furious bounds of their pursuers; Rey risks a glance over her shoulder to see upwards of fifteen wolves hot on their heels in pursuit. Kylo Ren leads them, and the naked predation and wrath in those gold rings make her tremble.

Finn makes a jump guaranteed to dislodge her heart from where it lies and lands with a grace that shocks her, making her suspect he’s done this before. They’ve made it into the safety of the forest and he expertly weaves in and out of the trees for over two, angst-ridden minutes. But it’s so dark, no silver light to be spared, that she doesn’t see the massive shape emerge from the left until it’s too late. 

“Look out, Finn!”

She doesn’t feel herself go airborne, hit her head, or land on her left shoulder and probably dislocate it. But when her eyes flicker open to see the landscape spinning in front of her, there’s a pain at the base of her skull that has nothing to do with her mind, she knows she has a concussion. 

Seeing Finn grappling with a familiar-looking werewolf, Ushar, snaps her out of her haze.

“Get off of him!”

Her vision spins and she stumbles, but she manages to make her way over. She grabs the wolf by his leg and yanks as hard as she can. “Get… get off!” Bereft of any alternatives, she spins the knife in her hand and digs it as far into the werewolf’s leg as she can. He lets out a pained howl loud enough to make her ears ring before Finn strikes him in the neck, jaws clasping around the side of his face.  

Ushar lashes out violently, dislodging Finn and batting her away like he would a fly, sending her into the ground. There’s a howl of outrage that resonates behind her but she’s too disoriented to dwell on it.

Rey grits her teeth to swallow the scream building at the base of her throat. When she moves, pain shoots up the left side of her rib cage, and with the number of blows she’s taken, there’s probably something broken. But the adrenaline is all the encouragement she needs to get up again when a familiar scent floods her nostrils, so thick that she can taste it and wish she wanted to spit it out. 

Kylo Ren. 

The physical embodiment of more than six months' worth of nightmares as a convenient breach in the cloud cover spares enough moonlight to illuminate the features of his massive, foreboding, and unforgiving figure. It’s something out of a movie and she’s thrown back to the first time she saw him… avid and visceral details of a monster from Hell. 

There’s another growl and she turns just in time to see Finn shove Ushar away, except Kylo Ren readily takes on the task of finishing what his partner started. He crouches low as a hunter would before a kill and pounces. 

“No!” She doesn’t know what possesses her to throw her arm out, maybe it’s an instinct. But she has no explanation for what happens next. 

The air in front of her pulsates for a fraction of a second, the air contracting, as she feels the energy race from the bottom of her stomach, through her arms, and through her fingertips. When it expands again, Kylo Ren rockets ten feet into the air and strikes a tree hard enough that she’s shocked he doesn’t take it out with him, and collapses with a whine. She stares, gobsmacked, and the nearby wolves are staring at her with mixed expressions of astonishment, indignation, and anger. 

A wet nose gently nudges the side of her face and she’s relieved by Finn’s reassuring gesture, but she can’t focus for more than two seconds. She won’t last much longer, if her fading vision and splitting headache is any indication, and neither will he. 

“Finn,” Rey pants, clutching under her rib, “find BB, get yourselves out of here.”

He shakes his head stubbornly, the human message clear in his eyes: I won’t leave you. His determination to help her touches a part of Rey she normally keeps under lock and key; filling her body with warmth, that this were, this stranger, would risk his life to help her. 

“Please. You can’t help me or Maz if you’re dead.” Rey watches Kylo Ren push himself up, having recovered from his impact with the tree and more than ready to continue his attack, and Rey can feel the arrival of more wolves as the strength of their paws pounded the earth hard enough to make it shake. “Go, Finn!” He doesn’t move, hesitating, and Ren’s gaze whips back in their direction.

“GO!”

He licks her cheek once before sprinting off. Kylo Ren lets out a snarl and five werewolves bound after Finn, Rey stumbles to her feet with the knife in her hand. She levels Kylo Ren with a defiant glare, the pain in her body starting to overwhelm her but she ignores it. One dark tawny-furred werewolf takes a dangerous step closer and she swings her knife in his face. 

“One step closer and I’ll slice your head off,” she warns, somehow sounding calm and sober despite the insanity awaiting her in the form of a bloodthirsty monster. She knows how wild she must look, soaked in blood and dirt, swaying on her feet. He shifts into his human form, approaching her with all the grace of a leopard. 

“It’s over, little one.” His voice is as malevolent and silky as ever. “I’ve won.” 

Despite herself, Rey smirks, she can feel her body start to shut down, overexertion settling in. “There was never anything for you to win,” she counters. “I will never be yours.” 

He says nothing, wrapping a massive hand around her wrist, and something she can only describe as a spark travels up her arm from where he presses into her mark. He chuckles darkly. “We’ll see.” 

Her lip curls, she feels her whole body shake with rage, fear… every emotion she can never hope to express at once. For a split second, her mind goes blank, all of her thoughts rushing together into a single point for one, violent second. Then it explodes.  

She swings upwards. 

He doesn’t grab her wrist fast enough before she hears the satisfying sound of cutting flesh, and while he remains silent, she watches the muscle under his left eye twitch, his eyes narrow for a fraction of a second. The only indication she will get to confirm that she caught him by surprise. She smiles, watching the blood trickle through the fresh scar she cut through his face. He makes a motion with his hand.

She falls into the darkness, hoping she won’t wake up.

Chapter Text

He gathers her in his arms, completely unprepared for the tsunami of sheer warmth and relief that washes over his body. It’s enough to distract him from the sting slicing through the right side of his face. When he lets out a bloody purr in his chest, he recoils from the instinctive soft reaction that blossoms from touching her. 

He can’t help but stare at her. She’s covered in blood, which thankfully isn’t hers, dirt, and grime. But she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on. He buries his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent: thyme and sage, with a sharp spice thrown in. It’s an odd aroma, certainly a contrast for most human smells, but the way it turns his muscles loose and liquid, he wants to get drunk off of it for the rest of his life. 

“Ren!”

Kylo nearly growls at the interruption as Trudgen and Kuruk pad over; Ushar licks his leg from where the girl stabbed him. It’s the second time he’s nursed a wound from her; this amuses Kylo. “The scout and the pup managed to escape.” There’s venom in Trudgen’s gravelly voice. 

The fury that reflexively rises in Kylo’s bones quickly dies. Every chaotic emotion evaporates as he clutches his mate to his chest. FN, the pup — no more relevant than the gravel under his feet. He’d prefer the traitors quartered and rid of their skins, but he could give a rat’s ass about going after them. They can drown in the Pacific for all he cares. 

“Forget them. Call off the search, and let them rot among their hides. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.” Besides, I have everything I need. 

🌒

They arrive at the camp a short while later, and news of the city’s red streets courtesy of Ren’s “feral human bitch” spread fast. Many hostile but curious gazes turn in his direction and Kylo snarls warningly. He doesn’t want any wolves’ attention on his mate, because he knows what they’re thinking and he has half a mind to tear out their throats for it. He probably would if Anakin would let him. 

His mate’s laid across his back, unconscious, and all he can think about is soothing, healing, and fucking her. Maybe all at once. But the conveniently rational part of his brain reminds him that she’s still injured. So the fun can wait. He has no idea where this sudden patience comes from, but for once, he doesn’t fight it. 

Before he goes into the trees, he catches Anakin’s gaze. The werewolf stands alone by the Elders’ Hut, a sinister gleam of approval in his blue eyes. Kylo isn’t sure why he feels unsettled by that. 

Once he’s in his den, he shifts, gently placing his mate on the bed of furs. He takes a few moments to observe her, brushing a few baby hairs away from her face and examining her features. Before he can get too lost in her, he summons a healer, and spends the five minutes it takes for her to arrive working hard to dampen the tightness in his pants.  

The one they send is Bazine, which seems to be the universe’s dose of irony since she was the only she-wolf who managed to tempt him, with her glossy tawny pelt, sensual features, and hypnotizingly copper eyes. He got off on the fight she would give him but tired of it after a while. 

Her dark eyes flicker with interest as she examines his mate. “This is the one who gave you all that trouble,” she muses, crouching at the girl’s side. She gives his mate a once over and sniffs her, making Kylo stiffen. “She’s barely a woman.”

He knows. He can smell it in her blood, and see it in the innocence of her face. 

Bazine goes about removing his mate’s clothes while he observes from a short distance. In one quick stroke, she rips the remains of the blood-soaked shirt off and tosses it aside. The healer’s movements are measured but efficient; if she senses his impatience, she ignores it. 

It's the sound of Bazine’s sharp intake of breath that pricks his ears. He leans forward to see what she’s looking at and is startled by what he sees. 

Scars. Lots of them. 

Ripping across his mate’s torso, where the delicate outlines of her ribcage poke through her skin. They’re all healed, though some didn’t heal properly and are raised in the form of reddish welts. He recognizes the shape of a few as claw marks, others, he can’t guess. 

A fire builds in his belly hot enough to melt permafrost. Bazine flinches, sensing the hostile change in the air as keenly as a charged wire, but keeps her head down and continues.

Meanwhile, he’s thinking back to what unfolded in the city. His mate single-handedly killed at least three werewolves with her bare hands and he knows she took some of the blows during her foolish endeavor in saving her little friends. She even managed to catch him off guard, which was impressive in itself. Her resilience was remarkable, suppressing the pain and using it for the strength she needed. He knows such strength comes from discipline and experience. 

So he has to wonder where and how she got these scars, and whether it’s possible to gut the vermin who dared lay hands on her and pull their throats out through their nostrils.  

It takes twenty minutes for Bazine to thoroughly clean his mate and wrap her in bandages. He doesn’t miss that reproachful look she gives him as she leaves, nor that double take once she notices the fresh scar slicing through his right eye. No doubt seeing the unbridled lust as they his eyes over his mate’s nearly nude form. 

This is the most he’s seen her, completely exposed and vulnerable. He grins to himself at the idea. As his piercing gaze greedily absorbs every detail of her body, a powerful wave of desire hits him so suddenly that he becomes more solid than concrete.  

He has to touch her. He won’t fuck her yet, but he has to touch her. He crouches on his knees, grazes her cheek with his knuckles. 

Her fair complexion is tanned and rosy from sun exposure. He also notices the intricate constellation of freckles on the sharp bridge of her nose, her cheeks, and her shoulders. There’s an endearingly delicate countenance to her beauty as she sleeps, stark to the image of a battle-hungry furious vixen from before. 

The other detail that’s glaring — her youth. In fact she looks even younger now than when she was awake, which makes him slightly uncomfortable. Part of him knows that he shouldn’t act on his base desires so soon, when she’s still in perpetual bloom, but his inner wolf doesn't seem to have any concerns.  

He traces the dips and curves of her frame, eagerly cataloging every mole, freckle, blemish. Her body is slender, too slender for his liking, but he observes the clear muscle definition indicative of hard work. Lots of it. He smiles. Mate is strong!

The tip of his finger idly caresses the linen bandages over her ribs, disappearing under the leather wrappings that bind her breasts. 

She has two cracked ribs that should heal fairly quickly. As for her concussion, that should subside in a few hours. 

He crouches beside her and watches, waiting. 

🌒

It feels like an eternity passes before Rey starts to float out of the darkness. Every part of her body aches, her fuzzy vision going in and out of focus as she recognizes a set of unfamiliar surroundings. 

The air’s frigid, musky. Black shadows dance on the ceiling and walls, hinted with an ominous hue of orange. It reminds her of the mines she used to hike through in Jakku… which puts her nerves on edge. 

A familiar smell hits her hard enough to make her head spin, knocking her senses in and she jolts upright. The sudden movement shoots the blood through her limbs all at once, setting her nerves aflame. Her ribs burn painfully like the heat of a torch and she lets out a cry.  

“Easy.” The low rumble is velvet on her skin. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

Strangely warm hands take her arms and it’s then she realizes that she’s practically naked, save for the leather wraps she uses to bind her breasts. She nearly yelps from embarrassment until her brain locks on the owner of the voice. 

“Don’t touch me!” she snaps, her fighting instincts kicking in. The grip on her only tightens and she looks up over her shoulder to see a familiar masked face. His eyes are narrowed and something stern glints behind them. “Let go!”

“Stop fighting me.” 

Rey startles as she loses control of her limbs, her muscles becoming loose and waxy. Her heart goes into her throat, scrambling for any trace of feeling in her body and finding none. 

“What did you just do?” she grits out. 

She remembers this, he had tried to do it once before, during their first encounter in the woods. But it didn’t work at the time. 

“Commanded you. As much as I enjoy our usual tetê-à-tetês, you are hurt and I have no desire to let you turn a crack into a fracture by being difficult, little one.” His dark eyes turn hypnotically molten. “Now be still.” 

She does. And she has no choice but to let him lay her back down on what feels like a blanket, a quick test tells her it’s probably an animal pelt. He looms over her and her heart loosens, thoughts immediately going to all the horrid things he plans on doing with her. But there’s a caution in his gaze as he examines her supine form. There’s the need she’s used to seeing but something else she can’t name. 

She tries to keep her breathing even, the increasingly rapid rise and fall of her chest betraying her fear.  

“Relax. I won’t hurt you, little one.” 

Her breaths slow on their own, and Rey inwardly panics, the knowledge that her body has been reduced to the whims of a monster overwhelming.

“Where am I?” she asks finally, wishing that he would stop staring at her.  

“Safe.”

The irony of that is absurd, and Rey would’ve burst out laughing if her ribs weren’t on fire. Whatever hold he has on her prohibits even a twitch of her fingers, but she takes in everything as far as her vision will allow. They seem to be in a cave, the ceiling slightly raised and the walls are frozen mud and clay. A sense of foreboding, but safety, permeates the walls. This must be Kylo’s den. 

Immediately her thoughts shoot to BB and Finn, who she hopes are far away from wherever she is now. “Where are my friends?”

Kylo’s eyes turn to shredded steel, and the muscle under his eye twitches. “You’ll be relieved to hear I have no idea.”

Relief washes over her, but she can’t hold onto it for long when she tastes the anger on his end of the bond, bitter and acrid. At least she can focus her energies on this, knowing her companions are safe. For ten long seconds, the two stare at each other, the air magnified with an electricity neither one of them can ignore. Rey swallows. 

“What are you going to do to me?”

An emotion flickers in his eyes, amusement? “For now? Nothing. When you are healed…” His gaze strays to her flat stomach appreciatively, tracing the line of her abs. “That’s when I make you fully mine.” 

The anger coursing through her overrides the pain. “Get it through your thick head. I am not yours, and I never will be.” She has perhaps gone mad, poking the bear in his own dwelling. “I’ll fight you every step of the way, with every breath. I swear, Kylo Ren. I’ll never belong to you.” 

What starts as a chuckle transcends into a deep belly laugh; is it possible to sound condescending and impressed at the same time? Rey feels her skin prickle indignantly, deciding she’d prefer it more if he was growling at her. 

“Such fire you have, little one.” His eyes flash gold and Rey feels her heart slam into her ribcage, thrown back to the nightmares that made her wake up screaming. 

“I’ve been wondering if the Force made a mistake in choosing a mere girl for my soulmate, yet now I see perhaps they were right.” His eyes shine with something that makes her skin crawl. 

“You are strong, and I admire that strength.” He takes her by the jaw, turning her face so she’s looking into his eyes. There’s threat and promise in his gaze. “But you best not waste it on the smaller fights. Conserve it… for the battles that truly matter.” The corners of his eyes crinkle and she’s positive she would be shaking if she wasn’t paralyzed.  

“You’ll need your strength for what’s about to come.” 

Chapter Text

It takes all his willpower to override his wolf urges long enough to drag himself out of his den and into the clearing. Every one of his muscles protest violently the further he moves from her.

What are you doing? Don’t leave mate!! She needs you!!

No she doesn’t. Not now, anyway. She’s fast asleep on the pallet he’d subconsciously prepared for her, wrapped in animal skin to keep warm. He’s not stupid enough to think she won’t try to escape the first chance she gets, so putting her to sleep seemed like the most appropriate option while he left to deal with Palpatine’s tedious displays of formality. 

The primal part of his brain insisted on staying with her. A small fraction of his rational mind wanted to. 

But if the pressure at the back of his head was any indication, he had to report back to Palpatine. The sudden invasion snapped his common sense back into place like the click of a button. 

It was fine. He can clench his teeth and tell the old bastard what he wants to hear. It’ll appease the cretin and it'll buy Kylo some time before he inevitably presents his mate before the Elders. 

He’s dreading that. 

There’s a certain level of discipline required when facing Palpatine and his disciples. Or at least presenting the apparition of such. And his mate’s wild, spewing venom and teeth and claws. It won’t reflect well on him if he doesn’t have her under control, and it feels wrong to deliver her right on a platter for those psychopathic werewolves to tear her to pieces. 

He pads towards the lodge, pointedly ignoring the sneers of other wolves and the whiny voice in his head that’s becoming increasingly hard to ignore. The air’s electrified with hatred and it sends pure satisfaction through his blood. Oh, the taste. A particular red-furred werewolf does little to conceal the disgust in his icy blue eyes as Kylo stalks past. 

“You have her?” Palpatine says without preamble as Kylo enters. The sound is no different than claws on a chalkboard and Kylo keeps his mental barriers sealed to hide the disgust. He kneels in a practiced form of submission, ignoring the suspicious glares of Palpatine’s council. 

“Yes, sir.”

“But you haven’t claimed her?”

It’s a question that slightly takes Kylo by surprise, but he’s prompt when he answers, “No.” Even though I desperately want to taste each and every part of her body. 

The Supreme Leader nods approvingly. “Good. Don’t. You may do whatever you please with her, of course, but before you mate her, she has to be tested.”

All the muscles in Kylo’s shoulders tense immediately, and the temperature of the room seems to skyrocket with malice. The sneers on the faces of Palpatine’s lackeys makes his blood boil. “Tested with what?” It takes all the practice Kylo has not to let any trace of emotion into his voice. 

“The Initiation Rite, of course.” And instantly Kylo’s blood freezes over completely. For the first time in his life, he feels stone-cold dread sinking to the bottom of his stomach like a pit.  

It’s simple: to earn a spot in the pack, you must fight. An opponent of Palpatine’s own choosing. If you win, or survive, you are allowed in. But it’s tailored to satisfy Palpatine’s sadistic desires and the mania of his favorite lieutenants, which means it’s bloody. Very bloody. 

And he doesn’t want his mate anywhere near that. His logical brain has minor misgivings, believing it would be simply cruel to throw a human girl into a shark’s den bleeding, but his hindbrain is shrieking, No! No! No!! over and over again to the point where he can’t focus on anything else. 

Must protect mate! Can’t let anyone harm her! Kill the threat—

“She’s my soulmate, Supreme Leader.” By some miracle or practical joke, Kylo keeps his voice level. “Surely that’s enough to grant her entry.”

“It grants her entry, yes. But not legitimacy. And without legitimacy, there’s no protection.” Palpatine’s eyes glint with something worse than animal. Kylo instantly identifies the threat behind the words. The other weres will only see his mate as fresh meat, and he knows what they do to human females they desire. For a split second he considers shifting and tearing Palpatine’s throat out for even implying such a thing. His hindbrain desperately wants to. 

He doesn’t, because it won’t solve any problems and it will harm his mate. He can’t let anything happen to his mate. His name isn’t enough to protect her. He needs Anakin’s, as well as Palpatine’s. 

“We can’t just allow anything into the pack, Primus Ren. Especially not human bitches.” Palpatine’s eyes darken, and Kylo grits his teeth, fighting the urge to curse the old lycan for disrespecting his mate. “If she is truly worthy to be in our pack, to be your mate, she has to prove it for us all to see.”

“She has killed many werewolves already. Surely that is enough.”  

Palpatine makes a hum of amusement. “You and others have claimed she is strong. Unusually strong for something of her kind. So you should have no worries.” The smile on his face is oily and predatory, like a shark who tasted blood. 

At this point Kylo’s very aware of how tightly wound his jaw is. Any tighter and he may crack his teeth. 

“But of course, I would like to meet her beforehand.” Palpatine’s voice has gone deceivingly casual. “We all would.”

I’m sure you do. He doesn’t trust Palpatine not to hurt his mate just to make a point; the old lycan has done that to Kylo and others many times. But he doubts his mate would withstand it. He feels the wrath of his inner wolf brewing inside his chest like the onset of a bomb detonation. Any second and it’ll explode. 

“She is willful. I daresay feral,” he replies coolly. “I shall need some time to train her.”

Naturally Palpatine takes the bait, and gives a condescending chuckle. “Yes, well I suppose that is the failing of human men, letting their women run wild.”

Kylo agrees. Given his mate’s stubborn and wild behavior, it’s very clear that she has lacked stability and order in her life. Certainly not becoming of his ideal mate, but he figures the appearance of a firm, male hand will improve her disposition.

“Alright, Ren. You have two weeks to tame your bitch while we leave this stain of a city, and return to Exegol.”

Kylo nods once before departing. The second he steps outside into fresh air, he takes a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Fuck. In hindsight, he should have known this would happen, but perhaps the overprotectively optimistic fraction of his hindbrain hoped his mate would be safe. 

He should’ve listened to common sense to know she wasn’t. 

“Ren!”

The ginger irritant. Just what he needed to worsen his mood. Kylo turns to see Armitage Hux approaching him with the customary leer on his pasty face. 

“Go chase some forest kill, Hux.”

“Heard you finally managed to wrangle that bitch of yours. After what? Three days? And she’s human, too?”

Kylo doesn’t respond, and Hux scoffs. “Of course. Leave it to the mighty Kylo Ren to ruin something as sacred as imprinting by having a human bitch for a mate.” 

The only reason why Kylo hasn’t turned Hux into a throw rug for his den is because Palpatine, for whatever reason, believes he’s valuable. He manages the scout troopers with an efficient, iron fist and loyalty is never called into question. Well, except for that stray, FN-2187 — which Palpatine still lords over Hux. Perhaps that’s why Hux is so eager to jump on Kylo’s ass for his perceived indiscretion. 

“She may be a human, but she’s different from the others. Strong. Slaughtered at least six wolves with her bare hands. And if she kicked Krennic’s sorry excuse for a hide, she would have torn yours to pieces,” Kylo finds himself saying. Where is this sudden defensiveness of his mate coming from? 

Hux, of course, isn’t cowed. “Say what helps your hindbrain feel better, Ren. But you and I both know what Palpatine will do now.” His smile shows his canine teeth. “The Initiation Rite is just a pretense. He’ll slaughter the girl in front of all of us. And leave you to pick up what’s left.” His eyes are murderously gleeful and that’s all it takes for Kylo to snap. 

He shifts with a roar and plows hard into Hux, taking the redhead by surprise and knocking him into the dirt. Before long, a crowd gathers to watch two high-ranking werewolves — one trying to claw the other’s throat out. Kylo’s vision is blood red. 

Threat. Threat. Kill the threat. Kill the threat who—

“That’s enough!”

Anakin. Kylo appreciates and hates his grandfather’s timing. The sandy-haired werewolf stands over the two wolves with disapproval written clearly on his face. Only the smallest tick of his scarred eyebrow betrays the hidden emotion in his blue eyes. 

“Both of you. Shift.”

They do, equally furious and disheveled. Anakin comes to stand between the two, arms crossed over his chest. 

“You are not here to engage in juvenile wrestling matches like spring pups. Try to be more discreet with the matters concerning your petty rivalry.” Anakin raises an eyebrow as he regards his grandson. “Kylo, kindly refrain from killing our Delta. You should have better restraint. And Hux, you should be smart enough not to suggest inflicting harm on another wolf’s mate. Their soulmate, of all things, human or otherwise.” There’s a tightness in his voice that Kylo doesn’t miss. He watches the shame and anger move across Hux’s face, his complexion nearly the color of his hair. 

“Am I understood?”

“Yes.” They answer at the same time, and Kylo gets a twisted sense of pleasure watching Hux squirm. For as much as he hates half-breeds, like Kylo and Anakin, he won’t dare voice such thoughts aloud, much less act on them dishonorably. He’d be eliminated immediately. 

“Excellent.” One look from Anakin, and the nosy wolves nearby disperse. Kylo feels the sheer hatred emanating from Hux, but he can’t bring himself to care. In fact, there’s a spring in his step as he returns to his den, eager to continue where he left off with his mate. 

As soon as he enters, however, he knows something’s wrong. 

Aside from the sudden sterility of the den, there’s a faint trace of elk and oak hanging low in the air. The pallet where he left her is empty, but the blanket is gone. Like her.  

Fuck. No. Mate’s left us, where is she we have to find her—

He wrangles through his blazing mind soon enough to see the footprints in the snow. Fresh. 

She can’t have gotten far. 

And he’s more than happy to better his mood by chasing her down again. 

Chapter Text

Rey bites her lip as hard as she can, digging her fingernails into the chipping bark, as she hikes her body up, twisting her way through the complex network of branches and pines and ignoring the unforgivingly cold flakes of soft snow falling onto her face. The snow bites into her skin and she winces at the burn; it’s not the worst she’s experienced but it still hurts. 

The branches are flimsy and bend down under the slightest press of her weight, prickles from sticks and broken branches dig into her callused feet but she ignores it. The needles poking into her fingers remind her of the time she harvested a cactus for its water out of desperation. 

She left the den the minute she realized Kylo was gone. She expected the discomfort that would arise from reawakening in a strange place, half-nude and vulnerable, but the sting of being alone was something she didn’t expect, and it rubbed her brain the wrong way for a multitude of reasons. Why should she be upset that her lycanthrope tormentor and kidnapper left her? 

It didn’t matter, if he thought she would sit like a good mate and wait for him to return, well… he had a lesser brain cell count than most knot-heads. That’s why she’s climbing a pine tree like some wildcat, underdressed and barefoot, to get a grasp of where she is. The fuckers took her clothes and shoes, and the only clothing she found was a black tunic three sizes too big for her and reeked of him to the point where she had to plant a hand on the wall for support. She tries not to think about how warm she felt when she first put it on. 

The further she climbs up, the thinner and shorter the branches become, and the less room she has to move. She’s sixty feet off the ground now. Rey firmly loops her freezing fingers around the sappy trunk and peers out. 

At first, Rey can’t help but admire the ethereal appearance of the evergreen boreal forest. Uneven blankets of snow coat the layers of pine branches that fan the white-colored ground. Some have a delicate coat of frost on them, others are completely encased in tufts of white fluff and, under the weight, have drooped to give them a spearhead-like appearance. 

Ahead of her is a massive clearing, sloping downwards into an imposing valley that boasts the majesty of the multilayered, tree-covered mountainside in the distance. There’s a distinct lack of human presence, a sanctity of her surroundings not lost on her. She remembers Han’s brochure: Alaska’s beautiful forests and natural appeal. They weren’t lying. The air’s untouched, clean, to a point she has never experienced before.  

Her heart sinks, however, that she can’t taste the familiar odors of diesel and salt water. Far to the south is a small flat strip of what she assumes is the channel, but Juneau’s not even in sight. 

The truth hits her like an anvil. No more mechanic work, tinkering with generators, or spending too long at the docks turning up her nose at smelly fish. 

She would never see Maz again. Or Snap, Rose, Kaydel, that ridiculous pilot. They weren’t her friends, but were constants, presences in her life that she’d learned to appreciate. They were hers.

Now they’re gone. All of them. 

Rey drops to the ground, her bare feet and fingers howling in protest. They’re starting to turn blue, and her teeth chatter, but the violent heat burning in her ears serves as an excellent distraction as she adjusts the hood of the tunic. 

It takes her a second longer to decide that not all of her anger is hers. Ah. Musk. She doesn’t need to turn to see who’s there, but she does anyway. 

The starkness of the contrast between a giant black wolf within a pure white forest is comical, and in any other circumstances, Rey would laugh. But all her brain lets her focus on is the anger and disapproval radiating from the werewolf in droves, sending a surplus of mixed messages through Rey’s belly.  

Her instinct tells her not to push it, but as usual, her anger overrides anything else. So she spins on her heel and breaks into a sprint. 

She makes it about twenty feet before he barrels into her from behind, sending them both into a tangle of limbs and fur down the valley of snow. Rey curses and fights but he easily gets her under him. There is no mistaking the contempt in his eyes. 

“So eager to run from me, little Sola?” His wolfish voice rings clearly in her head and she bristles. At him, and the use of the name Snap created for her — an unbidden wave of despair floods her. 

“Don’t want to give you the satisfaction,” she hisses back in a voice more sour than citrus. The heat radiating from his body brings out an unwelcome gasp from her throat. 

His lip curls back, and then he shifts. Rey does her best not to flinch at the way his hips grinding against hers sends a series of vibrations through her pelvis that she doesn’t want to investigate. She hisses in discomfort as possessive hands grab her wrists. Critical eyes survey her and he growls at the sight of her bluish fingers. 

“You have no shoes, provisions or weapons.” There’s an undercurrent of concern in his voice that makes him sound like he’s scolding her. “What exactly were you hoping to achieve with this little escape attempt of yours, little one?” 

Rey’s brow twitches at his patronizing tone. “I was merely trying to take one more glance at the life that you’ve stolen from me.” 

He chuckles contemptuously. “It was hardly a life of significance, slumming around with the likes of vermin.”

Her fists shake violently at his arrogant dismissal. That and he looped her in with her fellow humans as vermin. “It was mine,” she argues furiously. “I created it, I worked for it, and I was proud of it. It was more than I’d ever had before. And then you come and destroy everything.” Her gaze burns with hatred. 

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he gets that contemplative expression in his eyes, which she’s come to realize appears when he’s trying to analyze something she said. Rey holds her defiant expression as she thinks back to the jumbled string of words she spit out. 

It was more than I’d ever had before. 

Shit. She gave away a crucial piece of information. She can see the gears turning in his head, and before she can even think to fear that, she feels it. 

Unlike before, this invasion isn’t merciful. It’s greedy like a starved animal promised raw meat on the other side of a door that’s been deadbolted. 

“What are you doing?” Her voice rises in a panic. 

She gets a response when the oppression growing at the back of her skull intensifies. She knows what this is. He’s forcing his way in through the bond. 

“No. No!” It’s difficult to keep him out. It reminds her of the first time he shoved her headfirst into the dark pits of his mind and it ripped at her skin and clothes like she was being attacked by a dozen wolves. “Stop. Get out!!”

Of course, he doesn’t comply, and the violation gets worse. He’s prying into things he has no business knowing, and it’s with a passion she’s never felt from him before. She feels him arrive at a memory of hers from Jakku when she was a young child. That one she locked away for good reason. 

“You can try to take everything else but you can’t have that!” she screams. And with as much force as she can scrounge together, she meets that monster and shoves him out. Powerfully. The door slams in his face and the weight in her mind eases. When her vision clears, she looks up to see a satisfied smile on his face. 

“You are always full of surprises, aren’t you, my little Rey?”

Her eyes shoot open in horror before there’s another shoot of pain in her mind and everything goes black. 

🌓

There are no words Kylo can use to explain his intrigue in this sudden twist of events. 

He initially assumed her ability to resist him was borne from a disconnection in the bond — because he’s a werewolf, she’s human and their physiologies are different, so the usual biological control that males have over their mates would be slightly jacked. An issue he’d have to handle. But confirming that she’s Sensitive… well that’s just icing on the air cake, and presents another set of questions. 

He should’ve realized it sooner. There had been moments when she accessed it, instinctually, but he put it off as luck or something else because it’s not possible. Humans can’t be Sensitive. It’s rare enough in werewolves, and it usually presents in males. The only bitch he knows of who’s Sensitive is Maz Kanata, and she’s an enigma on her own. 

Kylo glances at her unconscious form. It took fifteen minutes for her fingers and toes to return to their normal color, and for her shivering to stop. Foolish girl. She either had to be incredibly audacious or stupid to wander into the snow-filled forest barefoot without any awareness of her location. 

But who the fuck is she, anyway? She’s unlike any female, let alone human, he’s ever met. She has temerity and grit. With the fire of a Luna Wolf. It’s clear that his mate — Rey, is not as human as she appears. 

Rey. Like a ray of light. But that isn’t enough— her spirit reminds him of fire: blazing, destructive, untamed. It’s fitting. Rey. A perfect name for his beautiful mate.

He discovered her name when he delved into her mind — a void of locked doors and barbed wire. For lack of a better description, it was no different than an obstacle course where the walls and floors kept changing. No rhyme or reason. The violence of the turmoil surprised him, but judging by the series of fragmented images he made out, it made sense. He couldn’t hear any voices but he saw a small child with three buns in a desert holding a staff in one hand and a pickaxe in another. 

“Did you have to knock me out again?” 

He’s jolted from his thoughts, and turns to see hazel eyes glare up at him from the mat, once again, naked, except for those bindings. 

Fuck mate here she is fuck mate fuck her… 

“Didn't want to wrestle you back here. Besides” — he leans over, lazily trailing a finger over her cheek — “I wanted you to save some of that fight for later.”

She understands the threat and she scoots up against the wall with wide eyes. 

“You’re not touching me.” The words are spoken firmly but there’s a quiver underneath that doesn’t escape his notice. 

“Hm.” The juncture of her neck looks overtly appetizing, slender, smooth and sweet, as he grabs her chin before she can jerk away and rubs circles into nonexistent glands. She shivers, and he tastes the trepidation in her growing, sour and acidic. His cock twitches. “You know I can take whatever I want.” 

Rey bristles indignantly but remains silent, becoming positively rigid as he crawls towards her. She senses his intentions a mile away and goes to flee only to have him grab her ankle and yank her back. She squeals, flailing somewhat but acquiescing as he traps her between his legs, one hand planted beside each side of her head. He can feel her shaking under him, features twisted into revulsion as he presses his nose to her cheek. 

Smells delicious… wonder what she tastes like…

“You were in my mind.” It’s spoken like an accusation. 

He doesn’t deny it as he continues his surface exploration of her body. Her muscles are coiled tighter than corkscrews as she flinches from his touch, but he doesn’t care. With every caress, it’s as though the deeper, most primal urges that he taught himself to suppress come bubbling to the surface like an underwater geyser ready to blow. He can hear her rapidly increasing heartbeat thudding faster and faster against her ribcage, stimulating the cortisol in his brain. His pants are almost unbearably tight as the instincts that he’s born to indulge and embrace become impossible to ignore. “I was.” 

His voice has gone guttural. 

“That wasn’t normal.” Her voice is coming in pants. “Not for wolves.” She attempts to scoot away but he firmly snags her waist. “What are you?”

The laugh that rumbles from his chest is nothing short of sinister as he pulls back to look in her eyes. “You should ask yourself that same question, Rey.”

Fuck her, breed her, make her submit…

There’s silence. Treasured, absolute silence as they stare each other down. The tension between them pulls to a single focal point of energy with a high combustion level. 

Rey’s the one to shatter it like a glass house as she unexpectedly shoves him backward and scrambles towards the exit. 

Chapter Text

It’s either survivors or feral instincts that shoots Rey to her feet in a mad dash for the den’s exit. 

Her blood’s rushing to her brain faster than the speed of light and all she can focus on is fleeing. Doesn’t matter where. Just anywhere to delay whatever horrible thing he has in store for her. 

Massively chorded arms wrap around her waist from behind like steep bands, pinning her flush against a marble chest. She loses her grip on the floor and she flails wildly, shrieking and cursing and trying to peel his fingers off of her. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?”

The question comes out as a rasp pulled from the gutter. 

“Away from you!!” she snarls, elbowing him viciously in the ribs but to no avail. With her half-naked and him clad in his tunic, the best she can come up with now is superficial wounds. Maybe later she’ll get lucky and carve the other half of his face open with a knife. “Argh — put me down!!” 

He’s completely unbothered by her flimsy attempts to escape him as he walks calmly to the mattress of furs in the far corner. The nonchalance of his demeanor heavily suggests he has experience with unwilling, or at least struggling bedmates. The thought is horrifying as the inevitability of what he’s about to do sinks in with terrible clarity. A moment later he unceremoniously drops her on her ass with an oof. 

“There. You’re down.” It’s said with the smugness of a hunter who just scored a rare piece of fresh kill. 

Rey scowls as she scrambles to her elbows. “Asshole!” 

“Mmmm.” He’s on her before she can get up again, trapping her with one of his powerful thighs in between her legs. At this point the stench of unbridled arousal is thick enough to coat the back of her mouth with a taste she doesn’t particularly care for, and it’s equally perplexing in the sense that it’s trickling through the bond like rainwater through wall cracks. 

The den reeks of it. There’s a cacophony of wild smells she can’t identify… explosive, acrid and salty. She nearly gasps when it hits her nose in the right spot and shoots down into her groin like the live wire of a pickup truck. It smells like… like… need. 

Whatever the fuck that means.

Kylo’s Ren’s eyes… they have completely dilated to pure black. Her heart stops in its tracks, and she scoots so her back is pressed against the wall. It registers that she’s never seen… whatever that is. That look. She recalls that he wore a similar expression just a day before, when he groped her through the bond. 

But this is different. Before, it was the animal desperately needing a form of sustenance to dull the pain. Now? It’s the starving animal let off its chain smack in the middle of a raw meat shed. Allowed to devour anything and everything it pleases. He’s nearly completely on top of her now, his heavier body all he needs to keep her trapped in place. 

“Tell me, Rey. Do you like being chased? Is that why you continue to run?”

Does she like being chased? What kind of question is that? It all but confirms that he only sees this as a game, and her as a toy to play with as he desires. The thought infuriates her, but the anger seems to drain away as he leans closer.  

“Don’t touch me,” she forces out shakily, arms starting to shake as fear grips her.

Ignoring her jump of nerves, he buries his nose deep in her neck — as his prerogative — inhaling her skin as one would a line of coke. Rey whimpers and tries to jerk her head away, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing this isn’t happening to her. It's as disturbing as unreal as she feels him nuzzling around the curve of her neck. 

“Maker, little one.” That baritone’s downright sinful with how deep it’s dropped, and his hips start to roll against hers. “If you had any idea what your scent does to me…”

She doesn’t know, and she doesn’t want to. And she wants him to stop trying to dig a trench in her neck. 

“Stop that!” 

He grunts low and releases one of her wrists, only to pin it above her head with his right hand. His left wanders down her hip, first to her ass cheek and give it a squeeze. Then it slides across her thigh and into her lower region. The second his large fingers graze her pubic hair is when she really starts panicking, fiercely thrashing her legs against him as hard as she can to make him stop.

“No… Don’t—”

She feels him tracing circles on her folds, now slick and wet, to her shame. It continues and just as her anxiety takes grip, she feels something move inside her and she yelps, both out of surprise, and the unrelenting tension she feels as her body tries to accommodate whatever’s there… for a horrified moment she thinks it’s his penis, until she remembers he’s still clothed. 

“Shit, you are tight, little one,” he grunts gleefully, like she’s supposed to know what that means. 

She can’t take it. In a split second, she jams her skull into his with a satisfying crack . 

It achieves its intended effect, and he retreats slightly, still keeping her hands pinned over her head. There’s amusement in his eyes as he mutters something obscene about her liking it rough. 

“So this is how it’s going to go? You’ll make me suffer this, put me through this degradation and hide behind a mask? Like a fucking coward?” 

Very bold words she has no business throwing around. Especially in her current predicament. He growls in warning, shutting her up but not eliminating the defiance from her eyes. 

Rey doesn’t know what she expected, but he surprises her by indulging the request. He lowers his hood, revealing a long mane of dark waves that shine under the firelight, almost unrealistically so. Then he pulls the gaiter from his face. 

Whatever Rey pictured, this isn’t it. A long, narrow face with angular features smiles back at her. His prominent, aquiline nose sits above a pair of lush lips. Very lush in a way that appears almost too feminine for a man, especially one oozing primal Alpha masculinity, but it suits him. He has a faint, but noticeable amount of facial hair under his chin and above his lips, his pale complexion dotted with moles. 

Strangest thing is that he looks… young. Older than her, for sure. But young. 

What’s terrifying is that at first glance, he looks harmless. Boyish even. But take a second look and you’ll see that animal hiding behind those charmingly brown eyes, patiently waiting in the shadows for a perfectly executed kill. 

“Better, little one?” 

Not in the slightest. She thinks she preferred it when her monster didn’t have a face and that was all she knew to fear. Especially since it’ll be harder to escape him once this visit to Hell is over. 

“Perfect.” She gives a grunt of exertion. “Is this when you rape me?” 

“If by that do you mean I’m making you mine, that’s correct,” he says silkily. 

“So you’re raping me.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “I’m not familiar with that term. Is it something you humans use?”

Wow, she knew werewolves were backwards but… fuck. The look Rey gives him is incredulous. “Yes, it’s when you force someone to have sex and they don’t want it.” Her fingernails dig into her palms with how tightly they’re clenched together. Any harder and they’ll bleed. “I don’t want this.”

He laughs. “Your body’s saying differently, little one,” he replies, trailing a finger dangerously near her clit. She feels a shiver reverberate through her body at the new, thrilling sensation and she flinches. “And what you call rape is the natural order. A female’s purpose is to breed, just as the male’s is to hunt and protect.”

“Fuck that shit.” Rey wants to claw his eyes out. “You’re insane if you think I’m ‘breeding’ anything with you!”

“You won’t have a choice,” he answers, unbothered. 

“If you actually think I won’t make this as difficult as possible, then you’re more thick-brained than I thought you were.”

Something vicious flashes in his eyes and before she knows it his mouth descends on hers. Her brain short-circuits at the sudden intimacy and the force behind it. There’s lust. Greed. Desperation. Rey has never been kissed before now and she’s certain that she forgets to breathe in her total astonishment at the feeling. 

“I warned you that smart mouth of yours would get you in trouble,” he growls in between sloppy kisses. She tries to jerk her head away but he refuses to allow it, and eventually she feels his tongue force its way in. Like he’s trying to eat the inside of her mouth. Is this what a first kiss is supposed to be like? she wonders, appalled. 

“And I would take immense satisfaction in correcting you.” His smirk is primal. 

Rey needs a beat to recompose herself from that monster of a kiss. But she forces as much hatred as she can through her eyes. “I am not something to be corrected, something to be trained, like a dog in a kennel,” she snaps. “I’m a person.”

“You’re a human.” There’s no shortage of vitriol as he spits the word like a curse, and she feels the malice ripple over her skin. “Or at least you behave as unruly and undisciplined as one. One way or another, you’ll learn your place.”

She makes a scoffing noise. “I won’t submit.”

He cocks his head to the side, musing. His hand circles her throat, fingers tenderly brushing over the muscles of her neck, and Rey’s pulse slams harder against her ribcage. She’s positive he can hear it. His massive hand trails down her chest, eyes gleaming, before stopping appreciatively on her breast band. “We’ll see.”

And then he rips her bindings to pieces, Rey’s mortified and terrified screams resonating in the den as he begins to undress in a horrifying overzealous fashion. 

The young girl’s breaths start to come in shallow gasps, pure terror seizing her as the uncaged monster descends on her with every intention of devouring her alive. 

Chapter Text

He can feel his baser instincts dominating the network of neural wiring in his brain every second he takes in what was hidden from him. Two perfect breasts, small with rich-colored areola and perky nipples that harden instantly from the cold air. Maker, she’s perfection. How he got so lucky to have a mate this beautiful is beyond him. 

Before he can think better of it, he cups one and squeezes. Outrage floods her lovely eyes, and she smacks his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me!”

Then she hastily covers her breasts, face erupting red with embarrassment. That’s unacceptable. He firmly takes her wrists and pins them beside her head. 

“No,” he rasps, feeling the beginnings of a rut painfully tensing his muscles. He feels the animal writhing, quivering under his skin as he struggles to decide where to bite. She looks humiliated and furious as his gleaming eyes rakes every feature of her body, and he hates it. She shouldn’t be ashamed.

“No more hiding. No more denying what belongs to me, Rey. This”— he rubs his thumb on her cheek, immensely satisfied when she shivers — “is mine. And now you’ll give it to me.”

Her eyes blaze. “No!”

“Yes!” 

This unlocks a new level of ferocity in her, because now she’s furiously trying to bite him. He feels the strength behind her shoves and blows and she actually manages to claw his face — such a strong mate! Thirty seconds go by before he manages to slam her hand back down and get her under control. He’s more than impressed that she can put up this much of a fight, and wonders if she's feral. 

“If you won’t give me what I want, I’m just going to take it.”

Predictably, this intensifies her fury, the stubborn girl. “Fuck you,” she growls. 

He chuckles. “That’s the plan.” And he kisses her again, passionate and greedy. He feels her struggling desperately underneath him as she tries to shove him off. His painful cock pulses against her clit the more her hips roll against his. It’s like she’s trying to tempt him. He craves the way she tastes, sweet nectar and sunshine and he wants to devour every drop. 

Fuck her, fill her up, make her beg for your knot…

He needs to taste all of her as acutely as he needs air. 

Then he feels the string of a bite. Teeth. Hard and vicious. He grunts and pulls back, Rey refusing to let go of his lower lip until he shakes her off. She leers up at him, crimson coating her lips and teeth. 

Apparently she likes foreplay. Fuck if the sight doesn’t turn him on… 

“Hungry for more, are we little one?” he teases, enjoying how she flushes again. So innocent. 

“I hate you,” she snaps. 

“Everyone does,” Kylo responds easily, nipping at her neck, and then her nipple. She squeals at the contact as he takes it between his teeth and sucks… hard. 

“No! Stop it!!” 

Whatever she’s saying goes in one ear and out the other. He’s on the verge of no return as he feels the vibrations reverberating through her body and across the bond like charged chords, him kissing over every inch of her soft, ripe skin… cheeks, eyelids, nose, and forehead. His hands wander down her waist and hips, seeking her sensitive spots and experiencing unchecked satisfaction as her increasingly muted protests come out in small gasps and moans. Her arousal spurs him on as he discards his tunic, ego stroked by her unfiltered astonishment at his physique — her natural response to stimulation — and finally, his pants. He's grinding against her as his erection presses on the swell of her belly. It’s been too long since he fucked, and every cell in his body is screaming for fulfillment. 

It’s a rage in his brain loud enough to rival a megaphone. Fuck her fuck mate breed pups…

He needs to be inside her. Rey releases a shaky breath, all her shields are down, which means there’s an unholy racket surging in his mind on top of his raging libido. Most of the emotion filtering through is fear, which he hates. She shouldn’t be afraid. He expects her to be angry, to fight him. That’s fine. He doesn’t anticipate anything less. He knows that she needs time to accept this, and it’ll be that much better when she submits to him. 

But he can’t let her be afraid, so he rumbles in his chest in an attempt to calm her. It works for a few seconds but the moment her eyes fix on his cock, they go the size of moons. 

“R’iia, no,” she breathes, before the viciousness of her struggle intensifies. “No — don’t!!”

“Don’t fight it, little one,” he growls, frustrated by her continuous refusal to listen to her body. 

“No — you’ll rip me apart!!” she cries, and unbidden tears start pooling in her eyes.   

This breaks him from his lust-addled haze, and he’s able to concentrate on the abject terror he sees on her face. He briefly pauses, brow furrowed in disbelief. 

The little human can cut down four werewolves with nothing but a knife the length of her forearm, but this is what triggers true fear from her? Fucking? 

It’s utterly confounding until it hits him. She’s untouched. The terror set into every line of her face paired with a dose of confusion steaming from curiosity and ignorance confirms it. 

No wonder she’s so tight — like trying to shove a tree branch down a wormhole. The realization that he’s her first is enough to knock the wind out of him, but his inner wolf preens with pride. And shock. Palpatine always went on about how human females are whores who spread their legs for anything and anyone for a favor.  

On the other hand, Rey’s furious resistance suggests she would rather serve herself up on a platter for some mountain lions. It’s not only because she hates him, but she’s terrified by the prospect of fucking. 

The former doesn’t bother him, but he doesn’t want her scared like this. This need to comfort her is unusual and spawns from nowhere, but he can’t ignore it. So he leans over and licks her tears, whispering comforting words as she whimpers and tries to squirm away.  

“Shh. Don’t be afraid.” He rubs his nose against hers in comfort and kisses her temple. 

What he’s concerned about is that because it’s her first time, it’ll hurt. Especially with his size. But it has to be done, so it’ll be easier in the future when they mate. The only mercy he’ll give her is making it quick. 

“I’m sorry, little one, but this will hurt. Be ready.” 

With a grunt, he thrusts into her — hard. She screeches as his cock tears through her hymen, up her vaginal canal and hits her cervix. 

“Fuck!” It’s by far the tightest cunt he’s ever had, and he can feel her muscles clenching around his cock in their efforts to accommodate him. Rey’s fingernails dig into his back as she wiggles uncomfortably, her teeth clenched in an effort to mitigate her screaming. 

“Stop!” she chokes out, agonized. “Please…”

“I know.” He keeps licking the salty droplets trickling down her cheeks, feeling the slightest bit ashamed for causing her pain. He coos and shushes her whimpers, caressing her cheek with his knuckles. She futilely tries to push him off again even though they’re locked together. 

“Don’t struggle, it’ll be more painful if you do.”

She squeaks as he slightly withdraws to let her breathe. The hard part’s over. He’ll just have to make it better. Rey’s eyes are squeezed shut as she turns her head to the side, trying to block him out. Her mind is shut, but he sees blurry images of another place, in a feeble attempt to remove herself from what’s going on. 

That he won’t allow. 

“Open your eyes, Rey,” he orders, and she complies. “You aren’t going to wish this away. You’re going to watch me as I fuck you because I am your mate and you will accept that. I am your first, your last, and only. Tell me you understand.”

Hatred flashes in her eyes and she snaps an assertion through the bond. 

The corners of his lips curl. “Use your words, Rey.”

“I understand, you bastard!!” she forces out. He’s pleased. Her fury overriding the pain is sufficient reassurance. 

When he thrusts in again, there’s not nearly as much resistance. Her nails bite into his skin but there’s less sting. He rolls his hips against hers, relishing in the pressure building in his cock as he sucks a red spot on her neck. Sweet. He moans in pleasure, an orgasm building powerful enough to roll his eyes back in his head. With each thrust he can feel Rey adjusting to him, vaginal muscles stretching as he withdraws for a sixth time, cock dripping with what he assumes is slick. 

“You’re so wet for me, little one.” He smiles balefully, dipping his index finger into her slick and dragging it across his tongue. Fuck, it’s as tentalizing as the rest of her. 

It takes some time, not that he minds, before her squeaks become moans, and he grins, the knowledge that she has never known pleasure before now just the perfect addition. In all the times he’s fucked before, it’s never been this good. Ever. And the benefit of it all is that he can teach his mate everything. 

When he climaxes for a third time, he feels the exact moment she does as well — like a rubber band that snaps. It detonates and then spreads through her body like the aftershocks of an explosion, and she lets out an extremely breathy shudder. 

“Kriff,” she grunts. 

Oh. 

Fuck. 

He gets hard all over again as he purrs, “Do you want more, little one?” 

Rey grits her teeth, eyes flashing a glimmer of cognizant anger before she hisses, “Yes.” He hears resentment and self-loathing in her tone. She hates how much she’s enjoying it. 

“Yes you do, my perfect little bitch.” He kisses her nose. 

He’s so deep inside her, the line where he ends and she starts fading out. His body trembles with adrenaline and pure pleasure that makes his vision rattle. That increasingly blissful expression on her face as he goes even deeper implies she’s in the same situation, as she goes more receptive to his touches, and he smirks. 

He’s taken what he wants. But he won’t be completely selfish. So he makes her come five more times, kissing her face with each orgasm more spine-rattling than the previous. When he pulls out one final time, a gush of cum, blood and semen trickle from her cunt and onto the mat. Proof that her virtue now belongs to him. His cock is swollen but not inflated. Good. A knot would have complicated things.

A part of him is disappointed at the sight of his wasted seed on the floor, but he knows that he can’t mate her yet. Not before it’s time. 

Rey lays there motionlessly, eyes glazed over and staring into space. He watches her struggle to calm her breathing. She’s probably still overwhelmed. 

That’s okay. Her body will adjust eventually. 

Kylo takes her in his arms and holds her tight, shushing her when she tries to squirm away. “You did well,” he says, running his fingers through her hair. And he means it. 

She doesn’t say anything. More tears dribble down her cheeks and he licks them up. He can tell she’s ashamed. But she doesn’t need to be. She’ll learn. 

He purrs, affectionately kissing her forehead until the tears disappear. Steel resolve settles in their place, which pleases him greatly. 

You’re a monster, he hears her hiss through the bond. 

Yes I am. 

Chapter Text

That one dream that always brings a form of solace. It’s the same every time, one that she clings to on the nights when sleep evades her or when her soul needs to seek refuge in a place that isn’t grounded in the unforgiveness of reality. 

It’s the nights where she’s desperate to sleep. She doesn’t know when or how she imagined it the first time, only that it helped. A small island surrounded by ocean. 

The peace of secure isolation. 

The harmony of nature as the winds play notes on the summer green leaves and the silver wind chimes on the branches. 

The serenity of an untouched blue ocean, expanding as far into the horizon as she could see. 

The knowledge that she’s alone and safe, lying on the sun-gold sands of a beach. Somewhere far away, like the Maldives or New Zealand in the Pacific. All she wants to do is watch an infinite pallet of impossible colors flood the sky at dawn and sunset, and catalog that split second of time where the sun and moon meet the stars simultaneously. 

Maybe if she knew how she’d draw it. 

Rey closes her eyes, tuning out everything as she listens to the soothing push and pull of the waves washing over her bare feet. 

🌓

When Rey manages to claw her way out of the possessive arms of exhaustion, she doesn’t experience the rib-crushing blow of despair. 

Barely. 

It doesn’t take long for reality to reassert itself, much to her immediate shame and anger. She’s lying on her side, wrapped in a blanket. On the same pelt Kylo raped her on. She’s positive she can still smell… it .

Refusing to be within arm's distance of such a revolting thing, she scrambles away. A throbbing ache in her abdomen shoots up her torso as she does and she bites out a curse. She can’t move her legs, so she drags herself across the den with violently shaking arms. The effort is suffocatingly taxing as she finally comes to rest in the corner, cheek pressed against the cool wall to soothe the burn in her body. 

It’s not the worst physical pain she’s ever felt, but damn if it didn’t shear a burn into her soul and break it into pieces. She curls into a ball, sore, naked, letting the tears flow freely. The skin on her legs and arms erupts in goosebumps from the winter chill but she can’t stand to be anywhere near his smell. It makes her want to heave whatever’s left in her stomach. 

He tore her apart. Unrepentantly. Forcing his way into her, one of the very few sacred spaces she had left. Even more sickening, the bastard kissed her and shushed her and licked her tears away as she begged him to stop, each thrust more blinding in the sense that it produced a dozen painful aftershocks that ricocheted throughout her stomach every time his cock slammed behind her pelvis. As if he felt remorse for hurting her but not enough to stop. 

The worst of it was quick — as the bastard promised — but the pain was horrifically woven within the electric spasms of something that made her toes curl. It wasn’t entirely pain, and Rey hated that. Whatever sick trick he played on her body, it struck her in the right — and wrong — places. And had her gasping for more. 

Rey doubted she was entirely there at the time, teetering at the crossroads between consciousness and playing possum. He growled in her ear not to imagine it away, but that was how she was going to endure the pain. Maybe if she stopped begging, he’d be done with it faster. 

By the time he was — finally — done, she disassociated herself completely. It hurt less.    

And then he told her she had done well. Like she wanted to be violated like that. He held her, rubbing his fingers through her hair, kissing her cheeks as she imagined a loving partner would do. Like he hadn’t just raped her. 

Sick. 

She wishes she could’ve fought him off. Done something, even though she logically knows it would’ve been impossible. Physically he had every advantage and it was an uphill battle, but she took a some satisfaction in the fact that that she had put up a decent fight beforehand. Sadly she only managed to scratch his face. What she wanted to do was claw his eyes out when he finished, but she was too exhausted to try. Or to fight the bloody purr rumbling through his chest as she passed out.

The cold silence tells Rey that she’s alone in the den, and if it didn’t hurt to move, she’d probably run away, just to spite him. The massive shadows cast over the walls indicate that it’s nighttime, again. Did she really sleep the entire day? 

I guess I was that tired, she thinks dryly, blinking back tears. 

She closes her eyes, trying to think of anything else. 

What’s happening back in Juneau? Is Maz alright? Rose? Finn and BB? Maker, she prays they successfully escaped Ren’s dogs to get help. He told her he had no idea where they were, and he wasn’t lying (surprisingly). The city’s odor had a sanguine taste that would make anyone’s skin crawl. She just hopes that the bloodbath Kylo Ren instigated has been put to rest, and the individuals she became closely accompanied with are somewhat okay. 

She reaches for and clings to a positive memory, watching an energetic eight-year-old assembling generators like he’d been doing it for years. She manages to smile, despite the circumstances. 

Rey meticulously counts sixteen minutes of blessed, treasured silence before she hears heavy pawsteps over the ground. Oh, great, she thinks dryly. He’s in his animal form. 

Perhaps it’ll be better if he stays that way. So she won’t be tempted to think of him as anything less than a monster. 

She remains motionless, even as a small hint of anxiety trickles over the bond before being swiftly replaced by relief and disapproval. She can feel his intense eyes boring into her back, and there’s the sound of something being put down as he pads over to her. A few seconds of intent sniffing tells her he’s searching for wounds and she wants to scoff.

The nerve of this asshole…

‘Leave me alone,’ she snaps into the bond. 

‘You should be resting.’

Rey scoffs at his audacity. ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’ 

‘I don’t have the patience to put up with your stubbornness, little one,’ is the response, and Rey wonders if it’ll be worth the pain of glass shards in her vulva to turn around and smack him. She’s still too tired to even consider wrestling him but part of her wants to try. To show this bastard that while he may have tried to break her, she’s far from weak. 

‘If the bond is any indication, you need to heal.’ 

‘And who’s fault is that?’ She doesn’t even try to mask the hate from her voice. His warning growl pricks the hair on the back of her neck up, and she inhales shakily. The last thing she wants is him going for round two and causing even more damage than he already left… she doesn’t think she can take it. She can play nice for now and antagonize him when she’s in a better state to fight back. 

‘I’m fine where I am. I’m burning up and the walls are cool. It feels nice. Besides, I felt disgusting laying on an animal skin covered in dried semen.’ 

She’s embarrassed to admit that it took her ten seconds longer to figure out what it was than what should be necessary. 

His scent fills with irritation and she feels vindicated. A hot puff of air blows over her shoulders in what she perceives as an acquiescence. She chalks a mental point in her brain. 

‘I brought you food,’ is what comes through after a heartbeat of silence. 

‘I’m not hungry.’ 

‘You need to eat, I can smell your hunger. You’re skinny enough as it is. And you’ll feel better with a full belly.’ She feels him run his nose over the bumps of vertebrae poking through her back, and she flinches, unable to hide her revulsion. Perhaps she’s still recovering from the initial stages of shock, but being touched by him… she swallows bile down her throat as what few contents are left in her stomach somersault. 

With the amount of pain concentrated in her stomach, she wholeheartedly doubts that a full belly will solve anything. 

‘I’ll eat on my own damn time,’ she sends, curling away. ‘I want to go back to sleep.’ 

His mood changes again. ‘Don’t debate with me on this, little one. You aren’t in a position to make demands.’

Right on cue, her body ignites with incandescent rage, and she clenches her teeth together so she doesn’t hurl a string of profanities at him in three languages. 

‘In the span of four hours, you took everything from me. My home, my friends, my freedom, and my autonomy. At the moment I can’t possibly give you anything else. If you have any shred of decency, which I doubt, let me hold onto what little I have left.’ 

The bond goes strangely mute, like the silence before the dial tone of a phone call. Rey takes that as a cue to continue. 

‘Just let me sleep… Please.’ 

She doesn’t have to be looking at him to know that he’s mentally calculating the implications of her request. Rey can’t fathom how he could find any excuse to deny the rest she wants, and besides, he doesn’t have to worry about her trying to run off. The way she sees it, he should enjoy her willingness to play nice for now. Because she plans on making his life as positively difficult as possible when she fully heals and gets on her feet again. 

It’s what he deserves for making her life a living hell. 

‘Very well,’ he responds after a pregnant pause. ‘But I’m summoning a healer to give you a salve and a brew to ease the pain.’ 

‘No drugs!’ Rey highly doubts that werewolf concoctions will do anything but make things worse. They aren’t exactly known for their modernized methods of healthcare. 

‘You can get away with not eating for now, Rey, but when it comes to your physical health, that’s not a fight you will win.’ 

Again, she wonders whether a knife through the pelvis is worth trying to sever the nerves in his arm. 

She gives a perfectly executed nod of docility, her barriers up, before closing her eyes once more. Somehow she doesn’t flinch when he presses his body against hers to crowd her against the wall. Rey reaches for her dream and dives in. 

He can try to take everything but there are two things he will never be able to have: her thoughts, and her heart. Two things that will always be hers. 

And while he may have access to her mind, he can’t control it. 

Moving forward, she's going to make sure he remembers that. 

Chapter Text

There’s an odd sense of foreboding hanging over the empty camp where the rest of his packmates once resided, as he pads through with an odd spring in his step, the mangled pieces of a rabbit between his jaws. 

The pack representatives, save for his Knights, have already departed for Exegol, leaving Kylo Ren to his own devices for a short time. He’s pleased with the solitude, allowing him to think good and hard through on the next steps he has to take with his mate before the inevitable occurs. 

Palpatine made it clear that Kylo is to have his mate brought to heel upon their arrival to the mountainous territory within the next few weeks.

The issue’s that Kylo Ren has no idea how he’s meant to carry out that order. 

Rey’s an anomaly. He’s never interacted with a human bitch like her before, and he hates the fact that he cannot predict her. During the last week after they fucked, her behavior’s been strange — he won’t go as far as to say she’s been docile, but oddly compliant. Or at least silent. She hasn’t tried to escape again, which is welcome but at the same time suspicious, like she’s merely biding her time to lower his guard. Which he won’t. 

The last time he lowered his guard around her, she slashed his face, and now the Knights won’t let him hear the end of it. Not that he doesn’t wear the mark proudly, as a testament to her strength, but he doesn’t doubt for a second that she won’t try to kill him if given an opportunity. 

Which is why he never lets her out of his sight, and has a Knight guarding his den on the occasions where he searches for food and relieves himself. 

He dismisses a bored Cardo, who lumbers off in the opposite direction in search of his next meal. When he enters, Rey’s exactly where he left her, sitting on the pallet of beaver fur with her knees hugged to her chest, dressed in one of the tunics she altered to fit her small frame. There’s an oddly focused countenance to her expression as she fidgets with the pendant around her neck.

Once he shifts, she glances up at him with thinly-veiled disdain but her stomach growls at the sight of the rabbit in his hand. 

“Here.” He tosses it at her feet. “You need to eat.”

She doesn’t look at him, her cheeks flushed and brow furrowed. She’s probably still upset about the day before. Granted, he could’ve been more gentle, but in his defense, he’d gotten caught up in the excitement again. 

He couldn’t fathom how he had gone so long without indulging in rutting pleasures, after having her that first night. It was only a taste but it had him aching to dull an insatiable appetite that craved more. He yearned to have her every second of every day. 

Only reason he won’t is because her fragile human body seems to crumble every time he enters her and leaves her grasping for oxygen when he’s done. And then they fall into the usual routine of her wishing she could gauge his eyes out — or wear his intestines as a belt; she’s gotten creative recently — and he leaves to fill her belly with whatever he can find out in the woods. 

He still doesn’t understand why she’s so angry about it. Every time they fuck, she enjoys it. He can tell. Her unwillingness to admit it annoys him. Humans are such overly stubborn creatures who refuse to see reason. 

She stares at the corpse before throwing him an incredulous expression. “Can you give me the knife? I have to skin it first.”

Humans can’t digest animal fur. A fact Kylo hadn’t taken into account the first time he brought her food. He shook his head at the time, scoffing at the excessive refinement of the human diet. But he tossed her a small knife — not silver, to her obvious disappointment — and told her to do what she needed to do. He does the same now. 

She glares murder eyes at him and keeps the bond wide open so he can feel the full extent of her hatred, as she skillfully spins the knife in her hand and skins the rabbit with an efficiency honed from many years of utilization. He observes her but she pointedly ignores his gaze; the fury’s radiating off of her in powerful waves. 

Kylo smirks at her childish behavior. He’ll allow it for now. That petulance will expire soon anyway, once she realizes there’s only one end to all of this. 

“Don’t count on it,” she hisses. 

His smile is lupine. “You’re only delaying the inevitable, little one. It’ll be much easier for you if you just accept your new reality.”

She scoffs, her hands covered in blood, and sending a pulse straight to his cock at the sight. 

“Being a slave to an arrogant animal with a superiority complex?” Her hazel eyes are a solid green verging on pine, and he relishes in her anger. 

“You’re not my slave. You’re my mate.” And soon it’ll be written in blood and bone. 

“I’m still shackled to you.” Rey discards the leftover fur, which he’ll probably eat later, and loathingly glances at the tattoo on her arm. Three days ago, she considered mutilating herself to remove it, until he threatened to bind her to the floor if she ever tried to harm herself in any way. 

“It’s only a shackle if you see it that way, Rey.” 

“Doesn’t matter how many pretty words you use. I have no life, no friends, no freedom, thanks to you.” Her lip curls in disgust. “I have nothing.”

He scoffs. Why does she continue to waste her time mourning such a pathetic life? Anyone with sense would be grateful at the opportunity to relieve themselves of it. 

“You mean your existence as a general laborer, assembling electrical boxes and those meager creatures up to their waists in smelly fish all day?” 

In the days leading up to when he finally captured her, he had his spies floating around the city keeping eyes on her, and he was less than pleased to learn his mate spent her days in a scrapyard elbow-deep in machinery. She shouldn’t have been doing such things. 

Predictably, her rage ignites. “I definitely prefer the fish grease and oil over having you grind into me twice a day for a week!” She shakes her head at him, disgusted. “Ne te quidem regere potes, nothum sui inscripsit.”

“Watch your tone,” Kylo snaps darkly. She can be mad at him, but he won’t tolerate disrespect from her. 

“I can say whatever the hell I want,” is her seething response. 

He takes a step closer. “That foul mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble, Rey. I suggest you learn to curb your tongue.” His voice drops a level with threat. When she doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge him, his chest gets tighter, displeased at his mate’s refusal to obey him. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Her throat bobs once, no doubt sensing the danger looming, but she merely raises her eyebrows in contempt. 

In a flash he reaches out and grabs her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. She bares her teeth and tries to shove him off but his grip is unyielding, and she whimpers as presses into her jawline. He sees the knife coming at his face and he reflexively grabs her wrist, pinning it so the weapon drops aimlessly from her hand. 

“I am not a man who likes to repeat himself. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Do you understand?”

“Let go of me,” she snaps. 

His grip tightens, her defiance triggering the primal animalism in him that urges him to secure her obedience. “Do. You. Understand?” He feels his pointed canines emerging from his gums, the sound of his voice dropping to a pitch not unlike a wolf’s growl. 

There’s a truly wrathful hue to her eyes but that doesn’t mask that hint of fear that flickers behind it, and oh — it goes right to his suddenly very eager cock, making him all the more eager to each her a lesson or two about respect. Fucking her into submission doesn’t seem like such a bad idea the more he dwells on it. 

“Yes.” It’s a keening sound, dripping in hatred, but he lets her go. When she shoves him away, he doesn’t react. He has three weeks to handle the insubordination. It should be enough time. 

Speaking of…

“We’ll be leaving soon,” he tells her tersely. 

Rey’s face betrays no emotion as she looks down at her half-skinned rabbit. “Where are we going?”

“Exegol.”

To her credit, she does an excellent job of concealing the sheer alarm ringing through her. But her eyes widen; no doubt she’s heard the stories of Alaska’s “Unknown Region,” a ghost zone hidden within the confines of Denali itself. “You’re taking me to that hellhole of a place?” 

“It’s where the rest of the pack resides.” 

“The First Order is not my pack,” she snaps, a tendon in her neck twitching. 

He hums nonchalantly. “Once you’re initiated, it will be.” And she will be initiated, even though Palpatine’s sinister premonition circles around in his mind like a bad memory. He’ll have to see whether he can request an absolution from his grandfather, who knows exactly the tension Kylo is suffering with the knowledge of this gory inevitability. 

Rey scowls. “Like hell I will ever consent to that.”

Kylo chuckles patronizingly and reaches out to touch her hair, unbothered when she jerks away from him. 

“You’ll consent. Because there is no other alternative for you.” He keeps his tone firm and dark, so she won’t hear the small hitch of uncertainty hidden beneath his words. “But don’t worry, little one. You’ll understand soon enough.” 

Rey seems to crack as she trembles, a broken gasp escaping her throat as she struggles to keep her emotions intact. He gently brushes a strand of hair out of her face, caressing her cheek appreciatively before plucking the knife, as well as the skinned rabbit, out of her hands. 

She needs an open fire to cook the raw meat. So he goes about to start one for her near the den opening. 

Chapter Text

The first thing that greets Rey when she wakes is the total, utter, darkness. The kind that reminds her of Jakku, but it’s the coldness of the floor prickling against her skin that makes her remember where she is and why. 

She blinks sleep out of her eyes and starts to reactivate her senses, she becomes aware of soft fur caressing across her skin and the dull ache in her pelvis, which serves as a bitter reminder of how last night ended. 

It took some practice — the kind where she bit her lip so hard it bled, chasing down every warrior instinct she had to fight — but by the fourth day, Rey settled into a routine every time the animal with a man’s face relinquished what little pretenses of humanity he had and indulged the depraved sexual cravings that his hormones seemed to demand every six hours; seriously not even men are this demanding. 

His enthusiasm ensured she was left sore and unable to move when he finished. As she pressed a cold compress to her core made of the forest’s snow, doing her best not to squirm as his massive fingers moved through her hair, massaging a spot at the base of her neck. It was sickening. 

How could his hands be so gentle and tender after he mercilessly pounded into her despite her protestations? Her cries? Leaving handprints on her skin, black, blue, and purple, only to kiss and lick them until the blemishes disappeared without a trace? 

Despite her hatred, Rey finds herself being confused by Kylo Ren, and although she may be a masochist for saying so, she wishes his cruelty was constant. It’ll be easier and not pull her in several directions as she tries to make sense of his actions. 

It’s only been a week since he took her and she already feels her mind starting to slide down a path she doesn’t want it to be. She sighs. She wants her life to be simple again. To be as straightforward as the wood she chopped and the generators she assembled. She wistfully brushes the callouses on her left hand, muscle memory aching for some kind of work. 

Cold air blows in from the den’s entrance. Rey shivers and like a reflex, the giant wolf curled around her burrows his nose deeply into her hair, deep in a slumber she envies. Like the previous night, she dreamed about her island and beach. She clung to it like a child to a mother’s bosom. Letting her soul drift to a place that was hers and hers alone; since she was left a prisoner of her body and her sex, she sought a way out. The one place he couldn’t penetrate.  

He’d tried. Multiple times. And she savored the taste of his aggravation every time she successfully kept him out, securing the door with a couple dozen deadbolts and locks. You can try to take everything else, but not that, you asshole. 

The horrible reality of today: they’re leaving. He’s going to take her to Hell. Whatever that means. 

Last night, as the sense of foreboding closed in on her like the walls of a shrinking room, Rey stared into the open embers of a fire she started to cook the beaver he brought her for dinner. Her jaw clenched. 

“How long will the journey take?” she asked, doing her best to ignore how he continued to stare at her unrepentantly. She didn’t understand why he remained masked even in the privacy of his own den, and when the urge to ask him came, she scolded herself for even caring beyond the fact that it unnerved her. 

“A few days,” he said simply. 

Rey’s no expert on geography, but last she checked, that formidable range of mountains is nearly eight-hundred miles away, even if they follow the coast as long as possible before traveling inland, and the terrain is mountainous and covered in forest. It will be a horrid trek, and Rey’s not even sure she could manage walking so much. 

She said little else, eating quietly and distracting herself with memories of Maz, BB, Finn, and Snap. The soreness in her core — which made her wince with every little movement she made, ensured that her obsessive werewolf captor did not enter her. But he still found excuses to trace circles around the muscles in her belly, restraining her in his lap so she couldn’t squirm away, and she held her tears at bay. 

Rey inhales shakily, shifting slightly onto her side amidst the suffocating touch of Kylo enveloped around her. The breaths through his massive nostrils are heavy and slow, deep. As she peeks over his side, she notices at the far end of the hollow room, the faintest glow of light illuminating the outline of Kylo’s onyx pelt. It’s nearly dawn. They’re leaving the moment he awakens and her heart sinks with despair. 

She wants to see daybreak. As she had for months before, climbing atop a fairly rickety roof to watch the sun rise from behind the mountains and set on the other side of the channel. She wants that picture. Because she doubts she’ll see anything like it once she’s smack in the middle of a dark shadow zone. 

She holds her breath as she slowly extricates herself from the network of limbs she was trapped beneath. To her relief, he doesn’t stir, although the suspicious part of her wonders if he’s toying with her to see how far she’ll go. But she doesn’t stop watching him as she tiptoes around the den, pulls on her boots, and creeps out, barely a pebble under her feet giving her away.  

The difference in air gives her whiplash; fresh, crisp and clear is a welcome reprieve from recycled musk and dissipated sex. Rey squints as her eyes adjust to the burgeoning glow of daylight appearing just above the harsh rises of snow-covered peaks in the distance. 

It’s cool. Calm. As she clings to the blanket around her shoulders, she sighs, the natural tranquility a source of comfort despite the winter Arctic chill freezing her ears and the bite of the snow coming through her boots. 

A soft blue starts to glisten brightly against the once-indigo sky, and Rey makes haste to climb the incline of trees and permafrosted ground so she doesn’t miss it. She doesn’t pay any mind to the angry burn in her abdomen and pelvis, nor the aggravated buzz starting to take root in her brain. 

It’s only after she arrives at the base of an icy plateau that provides an unobstructed view of the Coast Mountains that snake the narrow leg of Alaska and into British Columbia, does the full extent of daybreak take hold. 

It’s gradual, the way the sky’s color transforms from blue into colors she only sees in her dream: she’s never seen flowers or fruit bear these colors, and Rey isn’t sure she wants to, replicating a picture she wants to capture in a single moment and hold it close to her heart. And it may be trivial, but it’s everything. 

Unfortunately it doesn’t take long for her senses to perk up, and the sun’s barely ascended above the horizon when she hears him. His barely concealed fury and disbelief is an unwelcome sting on her skull but she pays no mind. 

“Are you having second thoughts, little Sola?”

As if she has the privilege of having any. “No,” she thinks bitterly, refusing to look at him. “Getting a last glimpse of my home that you’re taking me from.”

The taste of his anger leaves a sick satisfaction in her mouth, and she smirks. He’s clearly displeased about awakening to an empty den but Rey finds it ridiculous. Where can she run in the two minute head start she had? There’s nowhere to hide. 

“Enough. We can’t afford to waste time.” The baritone makes her stomach do a flip-flop, and a pale hand snakes around her wrist and spins her around. His amber eyes cut into hers. “We’re leaving.” 

Rey bites her lip, looking down at the snowflakes on her boots and blinking tears back. She refuses to cry in front of him. 

The reality of what’s about to happen finally sinks in. It’s almost poetic with the way it seems to mold the seal of her doom there and then.

His audacity. His entitlement infuriates her. She growls at him and futilely jerks her arm in his iron grasp. 

“I hate you.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in a smirk. “I know, but it won’t change anything,” he says easily, producing a coil of rope in his hand. Rey’s eyes widen at the implication and she frowns up into unrepentant, stone cold eyes. 

There’s a violent scuffle but in the end, he has her hands tightly bound and she has no choice but to be dragged forward. Through her rage and sorrow, she slams the bond shut, leaving herself trapped by her emotions as they backtrack down the slope to where the Knights of Ren are waiting for them. Rey glares at them all defiantly as they snarl at the sight of her. 

Shortly after, they leave, Rey seated on Kylo’s massive back as though she’d ride a horse. The smaller Juneau becomes against the towering landscape, the more anguish builds within her and the single piece of evidence is a single tear that trickles down her cheek. 

The air’s so cold she’s surprised that it doesn’t freeze, but the wet skin tingles, and she feels the tear drop onto her bound hands. In a truly desperate moment, she prays. 

R’iia and the Maker, please, give me the strength to survive this. She breathes shakily. Please, help me not be weak. 

Any amount to help her survive what is inevitably coming for her in this abyss of monsters she’ll be thrown headfirst into. 

Chapter Text

Day One 🌓

They follow the shoreline. 

The landscape’s nothing but snowcovered mountains and dense forest. Rey knows very little about Alaska’s geography, only that the state is remote: mostly mountains, plateaus, and huge. It was the largest of the US states before it seceded, and most of its largely uninhabited. By humans, anyway. 

So it’s forest, mountains, snow. Nothing to grab her attention, except the picturesque landscape, where if she was a photographer or a tourist, she’d snap these images to put in the travel brochures they used to float around. 

Rey tunes out everything. She lets her mind and soul wander far away from this, not to her island in the Pacific, but back to Juneau, in the living room above Maz’s supply shop. She’s sitting on the couch with a warm mug of chamomile in her hands, Maz is either barking into the phone, or making fun of a poor-quality television program. Because yes, she didn’t just have a radio, she had an actual TV. Rey was gobsmacked when she found that. 

She thinks of Poe, Rose, Kaydel, Ackbar, and Snap. Virtual strangers who she interacted with by happenstance but they were always there. It doesn’t matter how irrelevant the person or thing seemed at the time. Rey thinks of it and clings to it. Hard. 

The day’s relatively short, the group stops for maybe a few minutes twice to eat. Rey sits silently in the hulk of a tree, bound hands folded in her lap, as Kylo brings her two dead squirrels to fill her aching belly. She doesn’t have the appetite for both. 

He forces her to eat one. Or she obliges and just doesn’t put up a fight when he tells her to. 

It’s been dark for hours when they finally stop. Somewhere, smack in the middle of dense forest cover. It’s been snowing for hours now, and Rey shivers in her heavy coat. 

The other Knights talk, jeer, and laugh, Rey silently envies the concept of camaraderie but she pushes it down. 

Assholes, she thinks. 

They start a fire, but she doesn’t move from her spot against the tree. She doesn’t move, even as Kylo mildly intimidates her through the bond. Rey lays down, staring blindly up at the stars, seeing how many she can count before she falls asleep and weeps. 

Day Two 🌔

They cross into the main bulk of the state early that morning. The terrain’s mostly hills, frosted with gleaming ice and light snow, with towering mountains to the north and the vast expanse of Pacific Ocean to the south. 

They pass a few villages, ones that make themselves empty at the sight of First Order weres. Kylo barely notices the cowering figures of the Tlingit natives but he hears their terrified thoughts reverberating through the Force, most of which are focused on Rey, who’s been silent for hours now. He’s pleased by her unbidden compliance, even if it’s temporary, but it allows him to focus without the noise pollution of her thoughts tearing through his mind like shattered glass. 

Especially because the moment he opens the bond, the full wrath of her fury and grief strike him like a club to his skull. The hatred, the anger, it’s suffocating. 

Delicious. 

The blissful silence ends that evening, after a full day of fruitful travel. 

Rey wordlessly supplicates him to undo her bindings so she can eat. She’s taken to consuming the meat raw, which, as much of an energy saver that is, makes him wonder if she’s trying to poison herself. Because he’s almost a hundred percent certain that the repeated consumption of raw meat will overwhelm her feeble human digestive system. 

“Do you need me to prepare a fire?”

“I don’t need you to do anything,” is her hitched reply. “Just leave me alone.”

He takes the rabbit out of her hands. “I’ll not have you growing ill from food poisoning because you’re being stubborn.”

“Let me grow ill,” Rey snaps.

“Ren, leave the girl be. If she wants to kill herself, let her,” is Ap’lek’s disinterested contribution. Kylo growls in his direction, his hackles already rising. 

“It certainly would save you the trouble of breaking her,” Ushar jeers, and Vicrul levels the younger weres with a warning look. Being the eldest, and most knowledgeable, he’s well aware of the mechanics and psychology behind imprinting, even though he himself remains unmated. 

“Rey, enough of this childishness,” Kylo hisses threateningly. “I’ve tolerated your insolence thus far, but my patience has its limits.”

Predictably, Rey looks away, her fists clenched and her lip quivering as she fights to keep her rising temper down. There’s that much, at least. 

Unfortunately Ushar, being the instigator that he is, can’t resist pushing things over the edge. “Just let the stupid child starve herself if that’s what she wants. It’s obvious that she wants to be here even less than you do.” He leans forward with a smirk, raising his voice in Rey’s direction. “And if she’s too weak to handle the weight of what’s coming, you’d be doing her a favor.” He pauses, and then callously adds, “Though you’d be denying us the pleasure of a show.”

Kylo feels the moment Rey’s self-control disintegrates. 

“If I can endure the uncontrolled debauchery I’ve been subjected to these last few weeks,” Rey responds with no shortage of acid, “I can survive a bunch of self-important rabid dogs with IQ levels of twenty-six.” 

Kylo seizes her by the chin, ready to teach her a lesson about disrespect until Ushar barks out a laugh. 

“Damn, Ren, you have a real feisty bitch,” he guffaws. “Palpatine won’t be happy.”

“I’m aware of that,” Kylo hisses through gritted teeth. It’s been a very painful reminder these last few days; he knows the minimum repercussions of his inability to rein her in properly. His brain refuses to entertain any suggestion of physically harming her, but he can’t think of many other ways to bring her down a notch. Unfortunately, fucking her into submission isn’t an option at the moment. 

“This isn’t a good look, Ren. If she were mine, I’d have stripped her of that attitude by now.”

“And you’d have lost your excuse of balls in the process,” Rey retorts. For effect, she holds up her pinky finger and wraps her other hand around the base, which sends three of the other five Knights into laughter. “Try to knot the sorry soul who ends up on the end of your dick, then.” 

A low snarl rolls up from Ushar’s throat. “Inmensam voluptatem capiam in Palpatine spectans nudam ante totam sarcinam.”

The growl that’s heard next comes from Kylo himself, and it makes Rey jump. Good. “Watch yourself, Ushar.” There’s nothing but menace in those two words. 

Ushar shrugs, unaffected by Kylo’s aggression. “Tell your bitch to shut her mouth, and we won’t have any problems.”

“I can say whatever the fuck I want,” Rey growls, refusing to back off. “And I should’ve swung that ax harder.”

Ushar snickers. “A nonsilver weapon wouldn’t have killed me, canicula.”

“No, but it made you bleed.” She bares her teeth. “I had the best rush, nearly chopping your hand off. I eagerly await the day I can try again.”

Not for the first time, Kylo wonders if he would’ve spared himself a headache if he muzzled her. But that won’t solve his problems for long, especially since she’s been able to manipulate the bond as of late. Her increased control is a serious problem.   

“Dentes meos in gutture habebis antequam occasionem nanciscaris,” Ushar sneers back, unwilling to acknowledge just how much Rey damaged his pride on those two separate occasions. He’d fumed about it for days. Kylo feels Rey’s fury a split second before he automatically drops into a hunting position. 

“Non in una parte, non eris.”

Maker above, would she just shut up? The other Knights’ watch with amused interest, and Kylo focuses keenly on the were intent on teaching Rey about knowing her place. The stupid girl already knows the danger she’s in, and doesn’t seem to care, keeps egging Ushar on. 

“Go ahead! Try and see what happens!”

“Is that an invite?” Ushar takes a threatening step towards her. 

That’s it. 

“Enough!”

In a split second he’s upon the smaller Knight, the latter’s throat between his teeth and he bites down — not super hard, but enough to get the point across. Ushar stubbornly butts his head against Kylo’s and uses his weight to flip them over, sending the two tussling viciously against the snow. Rey watches with intrigue and minor anxiety. 

Kill him. He threatened our mate. Kill him. Kill the threat — 

It’s when Kylo actually bites down through Ushar’s pelt and taste iron does the younger wolf back off with a petulant growl. They separate, the dark-colored wolf leering at Rey distastefully while Kylo contemplates going for round two. 

Vicrul hisses, “Leave it alone,” and, surprisingly, that’s what gets Ushar to finally retreat. When he’s left licking his own wounds, Kylo focuses on Rey, who’s not even bothering to hide the fact that she’s trying to free herself. 

He wraps a steel hand around the base of her neck. “You need to learn to quit while you’re ahead,” he snarls. 

“He doesn’t get to insult me and walk away,” she snaps defiantly. “He attacked first, I attacked back. Not my fault if he can’t take a punch.”

Kylo finds himself annoyed that he can’t refute her logic, but she has to know that there’re certain things she must accept. One of which is to not pick fights with a werewolf who can most certainly rip her to pieces and, until she is initiated, has every right to. 

It’ll be pointless. She's still far too shrewd and vicious to know her proper place as his mate. 

“Regardless, there is a time to know when to walk away. And when a fight is actually worth it.” His gaze hardens. “Don’t waste your time on pettiness. You’ll expel all your energy doing so.”

Predictably, a fresh dose of iron solidified in her eyes, almost turning them pure green. 

“R’iia Kylo, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually cared about me,” she drawls condescendingly. 

He thinks about muzzling her again as he grinds his teeth together. As if he’s actually going to validate that accusation out loud, put it into the universe, where he can’t ever unsay it. Most of his brain has accepted that he’s inexorably linked to her, but care? He cares about her in the sense he needs her in order to function properly. Otherwise, he’s fucked. 

Unfortunately for her, he’s no longer in the mood to deal with her antics. He waves a hand in front of her face and puts her to sleep without another word. 

Day Three 🌕

She can’t stop crying. 

When their travel path changed northwest and she could no longer see or hear the crashing of the waves on the shore, that’s when they first came. Fast and furious and uncontrollable. 

No matter what she tries to tell herself, how many feeble words of motivation she can conjure up that fall flat, she can’t stop. 

They come unbidden. She can only liken it to the almost two decades of sorrow and anger that she suppressed behind walls of cold steel come undone. 

But she refuses to let Kylo reap the satisfaction of reducing her to the threads of her more vulnerable, and she bites her lip, swallowing her sobs, and digging her fingernails into her palms until they bleed into her heavy coat and the ropes. She clings to him as they climb up the slopes of another mountain and buries her face into his fur, not caring how it smells like earth and pine needles and musk. 

Every once in a while, she wonders what will happen if she lets go of him. If it’ll be a slow, painful tumble as she hits ledges, sharp rocks, and bushes. Or, she’ll simply fall down the vertical rock face and hit the ground below and it’ll be over. 

Kylo hisses a warning through the bond, “Don’t even think about it.”

Inwardly Rey doesn’t understand why he’s so adamant against it. Surely he loathes his attachment, this weakness, this inconvenience as much, if not more, than she does? Shouldn’t he be jumping at the chance to eliminate it? She doesn’t understand. 

She cries more until her eyes dry up. Other than her brief thought of suicide, he ignores the full extent of her emotions, and Rey callously thanks him for it. Ushar, who trails behind, his inhuman eyes glint with arrogance, and she visualizes decapitating him with a fishhook. 

R’iia, please, put an end to my tears.

Come early midday, they stop at a small village of human natives nestled at the base of a mountain. Rey doesn’t know where they are, but she recognizes the dialect of the horrified whispers of the natives as Ahtna, which suggests they’re in the Athabaskan region. 

That area encompasses a good chunk of central Alaska, so Rey guesses that they’re close to their destination. Her heart sinks to the pits of her stomach at that realization. 

The villagers’ response is a clear indicator that the Knights of Ren aren’t a particularly surprising sight, but an unwelcome one, as a few men and women glare in their direction as they pass. The hatred is a visible thread in the air, any wolf could smell it, and Rey silently agrees. Some of them look at her, whispering anxiously and curiously, but their pity and sympathy ring clear on their faces. 

“We’re stopping for some time,” is Kylo’s warning. 

Rey jumps off the massive werewolf’s back and pointedly ignores him as she surveys the village. It’s small, maybe a little larger than Niima Outpost if she’s being generous, but with slightly more people. Most of the buildings remind her of storage sheds, but they’re colored brick red or left unpainted. But it sits openly on a nearly flat plateau of grass with mountains overlooking from the distance. It's a beautiful sight, and reminds Rey of the place she’d want to live 

The other Knights stalk off in all directions, Rey’s left standing like a fish in a village square, looking around aimlessly in search of a distraction. 

“Young one.”

Rey jumps, turns to see an elderly Ahtna woman gazing up at her with soulful eyes. The woman comes up to Rey’s shoulder, her long white hair in braids, wrapped in a heavy coat lined with animal fur. There’re so many wrinkles in her dark-complexioned face that reminds Rey of Maz. 

“Do you need help, young one?” the woman repeats in her native tongue. 

Rey doesn’t know that many Athabaskan dialects, but it’s close enough to Latin that she understands the gist of the woman’s question. Especially when the woman’s gloves take her bound hands in hers. 

She shakes her head once, no. “You can’t help me,” she whispers brokenly. “No one can.”

Kylo roughly grabs her and drags her away from the woman, Rey shaking in his grip from both the cold and the anger she feels that’s slowly choking out the devastation she was experiencing earlier. 

“Where are you taking me?” Rey demands through a raspy voice. 

“Somewhere I know you’ll stay put until we’re done here.” 

They eventually arrive at a small building on the outskirts of the main village, near the trees that sprout up from the vast expanse of valley. Close enough to be seen but far enough that it would be next to impossible to hear anything taking place inside. 

There’s nothing inside but the structural beams and columns holding it upright, some empty crates, and old equipment. 

“Is this really necessary?” she asks icily. 

“As you seem so eager to end your life, yes,” he snaps back, bounding her to one of the columns near the corner. “I’m not going to give you any opportunities to try.” 

“It would definitely be a welcome alternative to the Hell you’re dragging me into,” she hisses venomously. 

He doesn’t respond, but a moment later he ties a cloth over her mouth after a brief struggle. Rey leers daggers into his back as he shifts and leaves her there, alone, doing her best to dislocate a finger and squeeze one of her wrists free, but she can’t. Even as the minutes drag on. 

It’s when she starts to doze off when she hears them. The screams that can make any human freeze where they stand. And they don’t stop. They continue. 

Helpless and anguished, Rey sobs and prays for the darkness to take her. 

It doesn’t. 

But she thankfully doesn’t see the blood on his chin, the flesh between his teeth, or smell death on his fur when he returns. 

There’s that small mercy. 

Chapter Text

“Ren.”

Kylo turns at the sound of Trudgen’s voice. The one-hundred-and-two-year-old werewolf eyes him contemplatively from his spot on a flat rock, the flare of the fire nearby outlining the silhouette of his long, ratty fur. “I’d like a word.”

Oh, Kylo’s inner wolf doesn’t like the sound of that, or the advisory tone in Trudgen’s voice. His reflex is to recoil and his claws extend through his skin, but he temps down the urge with the grudging self-reminder that this is the one Knight he considers closest to actual kin, and the one he most likely could trust with silver artillery. 

“What?”

“Do you have a plan?” Trudgen eyes Rey with a critical expression. 

“Yes,” Kylo grounds out. 

The older werewolf raises an eyebrow. “Are you certain?” He doesn’t blink when Kylo bares his teeth in warning. “You already know that this doesn’t look good for you. If you can’t control your mate, how do you plan on leading us?” When Kylo’s hand shifts into inky fur, Trudgen backs off. “Just how it looks from the outside, Ren. You know the Supreme Leader will be harsh and punish you through her. She’s a small thing. She couldn’t take it.” 

Inwardly, Kylo winces. A very pessimistic side of his brain reminds him that Palpatine’s other favorite pastime is to pit his subordinates against each other like ravenous pups in a toolshed. And if it leaves most werewolves paralyzed for a good day or so, it’ll leave Rey broken.

Although it’s a small price for her learning how to act. 

“Forgive me for not falling into the proper recourse for mate management. I didn’t exactly plan on having one. Much less a soulmate… even less a human one.” Kylo can’t mask his disgust. “Bitches are wild on their own. But humans?” 

Trudgen nods in agreement but glances at Kylo disbelievingly. “To that end, surely it can’t be difficult?” Kylo gives him a look, and the gears turn as he recalls what happened on Maz’s property and in Juneau. Trudgen grunts. 

“So she’s a one-in-a-million extremity. There’s always one somewhere; we handle it. But I assumed you’d enjoy the challenge.”

“I am,” Kylo replies easily, because, he does. Stroking her endless pit of fire gives him a thrill no kill or battle could ever achieve. 

That aside…

“However, my concerns mainly lie with our Supreme Leader.” And just how much torture he’ll put Rey through depending on his mood. He has no love for humans, especially women. The likelihood of him inducing spirit-cutting agony onto Rey is not outside the realm of possibility. 

Trudgen nods thoughtfully. “And her threat of suicide?”

“I have enough leverage to ensure that she won’t. I’ll reveal it in time. Now, I need to teach her how to curb her tongue.” Her sharp, vulgar tongue with no qualms about spewing enough venom to fill a chalice. 

Kylo glances at his mate. She’s curled in a ball by the tree, chest rising and falling peacefully, with a blank mind to prove that she is, indeed, asleep. Seeing her tied up like some common animal ruffles his fur in several directions he loathes. However, in light of her recent thoughts of self-harm, it’s a precaution he has to take. 

Speaking of…

“Ushar!”

The wolf in question lifts his head with mild annoyance. 

“Moving forward, if you like your throat…” The timbre of Kylo’s voice takes on a note of menace he’s never felt before. “Don’t come near my mate, don’t talk to my mate, and certainly don’t provoke her.” 

The werewolf rolls his shoulder dismissively until Kylo lets out a snarl and he puts up his hands in surrender. 

“Whatever, Ren.” He leans forward and points a finger at Rey. “But I wasn’t jesting when I said Palpatine won’t approve. You better get her under control.”

Seriously, does he have a death wish? Kylo can already feel his bones start to rearrange. Trudgen, expecting the outburst of violence that’s about to occur, takes a small step back. 

No. First he made his point with some blood. Now, he opts for the more… inconspicuous approach. His grandfather favors it. 

It takes a thought to focus on the dark energies that flow in tandem with the lighter, weaker threads of the Force he opts to avoid altogether. Before he knows it, Ushar’s grabbing at an invisible hand that’s slowly compressing his windpipe to a third of its size.

“Don’t mistake my exasperation for indulgence, Ushar. My priority is making sure I have my sanity and a living soulmate when we arrive in Exegol.” A hint of apex predator sneaks into Kylo’s voice. “I can and will flay you alive if you keep testing me. Am I clear?”

The werewolf’s face is a ghostly white, and when he manages a vivid nod, Kylo releases him. Ushar spits into the snow, turning resentful, furious eyes on the younger werewolf. 

Vicrul, the mild pragmatist, glances pointedly at the sleeping girl once before making eye contact with Ren. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s thinking, but Kylo appreciates that he has enough sense not to voice it aloud. 

Truthfully, it’s been quite some time since Kylo Ren was at a loss for how to proceed, as when the cards fell in sync when he joined the First Order, it framed an acceptable picture of predictability. With that, there’s control, and therefore, security. 

Suddenly the Force decides to throw him a wallop in the form of a stubborn, half-feral, possibly unstable girl into the mix, which sends everything else blowing out of proportion.

Kylo observes the embers trickling wildly under the dying flames, wallowing in an uncertainty he hasn’t experienced in decades. Not since he destroyed his old name.

He rolls up the sleeve of his tunic just enough to expose his tattoo, a black spot on very pale flesh. From when he was a pup, the brooding Elders who raised him insisted that he was destined for great things. How could he not be? He’s marked with the most sacred symbol known to the Old Religion. 

Not for the first time, he wonders if they’re wrong. 

For this girl’s reanimating things he believes he eliminated many decades before, long before she came into existence. Things that should stay dead. And he doesn’t want to entertain the thought of what will happen if they return. 

🌖

She lay suspended halfway between the welcoming arms of sleep, wrists sore from the unforgivably tight chords cutting off the circulation to her hands. With her mind closed off, Rey lets her soul float far away from the cold, heavy-feeling shell of her body. 

She doesn’t know where she is. It’s not her beach, warm, vibrant, and colorful. It’s somewhere else. The ground’s covered in a layer of pure white, untouched snow, and as she peers through an opening in the cave she finds herself standing inside, she’s startled to observe a proud expanse of rolling mountains and valleys.

It’s the serene landscape Rey imagines she would prefer to immerse herself in. Secure, safe, alone. 

Except when the wind shifts and carries an unusual hint of cedar with it, she realizes she’s not alone. She turns. 

A young, dark haired woman in a heavy grey jacket looks right at her. 

🌗

Rey startles with a gasp as she jolts upright. 

It takes a few seconds for her to realize she’s riding on Kylo’s back, and that she was only dreaming. Rey grunts, disappointed, tugging hard at her bound wrists until she feels her skin break. 

‘You fell asleep.’

‘I wish I’d slept longer,’ she thinks bitterly. 

He snorts, no doubt used to her cheekiness. Not that Rey doesn't enjoy getting a rise out of him, but at the moment, the lack of passive aggression is welcome. Even if she knows it’s only temporary and he plans on some kind of hellish punishment for later. 

Their surroundings the day before were rolling valleys with sporadic patches of forest. Now, it’s barren of trees for miles, and flat, no covered plateau. There’s a distinct barren feel to the landscape and it makes Rey squirm in discomfort. 

Like a snow desert savanna, she muses dryly. 

‘We’re almost to Exegol, little one. Care to catch a first look of your new home?’ 

There’s a goading tone to his voice, and Rey huffs to herself. But as she gazes ahead, she spots it. Denali. A formidable wall of rock splitting this region of the state in half. 

By the time they arrive at the base, Rey stares blankly at the towering range. It’s truly a sight to behold, just like the brochures said. 

The highest peak, rising at over twenty thousand feet, reaches up into the Heavens, an ominous halo of dark cloud circling the obscured peak. From over twenty thousand feet below, she can make out the outline of harsh, jagged rock covered in pure white. There’s an unorthodox pattern to the snow cover clinging to the slopes as they rise and fall at merciless angles. 

Rey stares hard at the second highest peak, halfway hidden behind the first. Somewhere, hidden in that labyrinth of twisted earth, is Exegol. She swallows hard, willing the increasing beat of her heart to something calmer. 

I can do this. 

The trek starts out easy. Four hours of silence, passing oddly shaped rock formations that Rey opts to distract herself with by keeping track of how many she sees.

But the discomfort persists, a rope burn on her skin. Maybe? Either way, her body feels strange, and as she clears her throat to dull the sensation, it doesn’t subside. If anything, it roots itself firmly into her chest. 

‘I don’t feel well,’ she projects through the bond, five hours into the hike.

There’s a moment before he responds. ‘You’re fine. You’re probably not used to the high altitudes.’ 

He could be right. After all, they ascended past ten thousand feet. Rey whimpers uneasily, eyes fixed on that foreboding shadow that seems to be their destination. 

The feeling doesn’t go away, and she’s passed the point where she can’t ignore it anymore. ‘Can we stop? I — none of this feels right.’

‘Stop being dramatic, you’re fine,’ he hisses impatiently. ‘We’re almost there.’  

They cross a chasm in the rock and Rey protests through her gag, squirming uncomfortably in place. Whether it’s the pressure of the hair, a stomach issue, or something else, she knows one thing for sure: 

Something’s not right. 

‘Stop. Please, stop. I… I can’t go up there.’

‘You don’t have a choice,’ is the unsympathetic reply. 

‘No.’ Rey’s increasingly aware of the strange tingling under her skin, as if her blood’s come alive, poisoned and activated with a strange drug. But it attacks her body like the stings of hornets, poking at her with a thousand needles. 

‘I don’t feel right. Something’s wrong!’ The panic in her voice can’t be missed. 

Kylo ignores her, but as they reach the halfway point, that ominous dark shadow looming over the northern face of the peak like a vortex of quantum indeterminance, it worsens. Rey physically recoils as something enters her mind, unfamiliar, and intrigued. 

It vanishes briefly, like it wasn’t there at all. She inhales shakily, confused, convinced it may just be her anxiety, when it happens. 

It strikes her skull, piercing and accurate, and she feels her body take the impact as her unbalanced weight pulls her off Kylo. But she doesn’t feel herself hit the ground. 

——

The sound of an explosion snaps her awake. 

Rey jerks up, startled to find herself in a strange environment of solid bedrock. There’s the entire glow of fire, and an intense burst of heat singes the hairs on her arms. She frowns in confusion. 

Is she dreaming?

“Hello?”

Rey turns. A young, doe-eyed boy appears just at the edge of her vision. He has inky hair, large eyes, and an innocent face. But he’s watching her perplexedly, like she’s something he doesn’t understand. 

“What is this place?” she asks. 

The little boy doesn’t have the chance to reply. There’s ear-splitting crack of lightning that surges from above and strikes the ground inches from her feet. In the time it takes to jump and recover herself, the boy’s gone. 

From behind her there’s an unholy scream that shakes the ground under her. Like a folded piece of paper, the world around her turns inside out, causing her to trip onto  a jagged wall, which was now sandy ground and impacting her head. 

There’s an agonized roar from above, and a weapon slams near her head so hard that she yelps, terrified. A missed thrust, a statement of strength, as a clawed hand reaches to retrieve it. It’s so close, she can taste ozone, metal, blood, and when she gazes up at the figure in search of a face, she sees nothing but red-rimmed gold irises glowing amidst a black void. 

Kylo? 

The darkness swallows her whole, and then she’s alone, floating in a void of silent, black matter. A few wiggles of her toes touches flat ground, and while she sees nothing, amidst the rapid flashes of something like lightning, she sees them. 

Glimpses. 

Snippets. 

Faces that she doesn’t recognize or will ever know. A woman with determined eyes. Another, massive figure plunging his weapon into the stomach of another. A primal roar as massive teeth clamp down into the neck of a smaller man, someone screaming, “No!”

They start to reverberate all around her, the voices. So many of them without faces to go with them as they attack her without mercy. 

“Only a master of evil…”

“The Force is with you, young Skywalker…”

“Ben, NO!”

“My faith in you has been restored.” 

“You don’t know the power of the dark side…

The memories aren’t hers and she doesn’t know what they are or if they’re real. More and more, building off each other like shockwaves in an enclosed space, growing louder, louder, louder, until it becomes an agonizing cacophony that pounds her mind with a durasteel hammer. Her fingers dip into her scalp, thrown side to side as she struggles with the presence’s strength in her mind. 

Stop! I can’t hear myself think…

“Long have I waited.” This one is the loudest, most sinister, evil, deadly, true. When her eyes snap open, all she sees is a horrible smile on the face of a ghoul. It’s predatory eyes are locked on her as he descends on her in a flash. 

She screams, she screams, she screams…

——

Her vision clears, Rey’s back where she started. Except now she’s in the arms of Kylo Ren, his intense gold eyes looking down at her with an emotion she can’t even describe. Is it… fear?

“It’s alive,” she chokes out raggedly. 

Kylo Ren saying her name is the last thing she hears before passing out. 

Chapter Text

It’s a minefield. 

Or, a labyrinth of minefields that shift every few seconds he spends trying to pry one of the durasteel doors to her memories open. 

His fingertips press firmly at Rey’s temples, first brushing against her subconscious and finding nothing but a cold stone barrier in his path. He studies it intently, caressing the surface for even a small crack for him to slip through. It’s quite perplexing how she can remain this shielded, even unconscious, when minds are the most susceptible to penetration. 

A soft whimper breaks Kylo’s concentration and he pauses, watching Rey’s rosy lips twitch erratically as she mutters to herself. His insides clench, inner beast yearning to relieve her from this pain and shield her from the monster he’d forgotten was hidden in the shadows. He curses his stupidity. 

Exegol houses one of the largest Force conduits on this half of the globe, concentrated heavily with enough dark energy to overwhelm any untrained (or unaware) youngling Sensitive. Unfortunately, he’d been so preoccupied focusing on curbing Rey’s virulence that he had a lapse in memory about the danger. 

His hindbrain violently rips him a new one for his negligence to the point where his nerves stretch painfully under the pressure. Yes, perhaps he should’ve been more careful, but he’s not certain if he would’ve been able to protect her anyway. It requires a substantial amount of mental discipline and training to repel the invasiveness of the Dark side. None of which she has. 

A relentless throbbing vibrates across the bond and his teeth clench. 

He’s no stranger to pain; in fact, he welcomes it, but it’s an entirely different scenario when he’s experiencing the residual effects from his mate.  

The bond’s ripped right open and the full magnitude of the Dark side’s onslaught upon a fresh, unguarded, and naïve psyche is like knives into flesh. Her pain is a brand on his insides and it makes his jaw tighten, a low growl forming in his belly as he senses it. But as the Darkness runs through his veins freely, it has no interest in feeding upon a thoroughly corrupted mind where there’s something new just inches away. 

After several minutes of painstaking examination, he finds it: a hole large enough to dive into, but he finds himself falling flat into the middle of what he assumes is a maze. One that shifts with the wave of a hand as he tries to navigate through. 

The complexity of her mind is staggering. In all his years, he’s never explored one with a methodical disorganization to its foundation. Truly, it gives him enough whiplash that he’s initially slammed into a wall when he first attempts to probe it. But once he adjusts himself, he can clearly now see why the Force is so inclined to explore her; her energy is literally a beacon of light that the darkness wants to devour until there’s nothing left.  

Ironically, her mind’s the opposite. There’s a cold and acrid bitterness that he can taste in his mouth the longer his presence remains inside her. And the Dark Side’s eagerly devouring the fruits of its merit: the memories wrought with terrors, vulnerabilities, and intense emotions. Drawn like a moth to a flame. 

Her darkness is… alluring. Far in contrast to the ray of light that he’d assumed her to be. 

“Exactly how much do you keep buried inside you, little one?” 

The question is all but forgotten when he hears the growing echo of frantic screaming. 

🌗

How can she describe it?

Being suspended between the realm of the mind and consciousness? 

The violent penetration of a force she can’t see or name combined with a presence she remembers like a burn on her skin? 

To lose control of her body and only hear everything happening around it as a frozen spectator? 

It’s… nightmarish. Half of you is there, but not really. Like being split in half. 

Having Kylo’s body locked inside of her is one type of hell she’s learning to endure, when the fragility of her soul can leave the confines of her body and go elsewhere. She clings to that safety he can’t take from her and what’s what allows her to survive it. 

This… this is another thing completely. The only thing she can liken this painstaking invasion to is the smoke of a chemical fire devouring each and every one of her senses, noxious and potent, until she’s nothing but a hollowed shell. It’s a violation that consumes not just her body but her soul and the threads that hold it together. 

This… this is Hell. 

The formless monster that she first felt the minute she stepped foot on this mountain swallowed her whole and left her floating aimlessly in the same dark void she remembers from that vicious collage of visions. At first, Rey tests her fingers to confirm that she is, in fact, still breathing. 

But that’s when the adrenaline fades and she experiences the pain. 

The hatred. Fear. Anger. 

Clawing through her body like a fast-moving poison, turning them into matter she can feel trickling through her blood. Her nerves flame, every cell within burning with a magnitude that makes her scream. Rey doubles over, clutching at her head as she fights a intruder she can’t see. 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Head!” she screeches. 

It doesn’t, but through the ringing in her ears, she’s certain she picks up ghostly laughter, harsh and mocking the futility of her task. Picking her apart piece by piece, digging into the parts of her brain she never wanted to see again as long as she lived. 

Flashes. Many of them. 

The aching hollowness of an empty stomach as she curled in a tiny ball under the tarp of her hovel. 

Bloody and bruised knuckles after a day in the mine with no bacta to soothe them. 

The unpleasant feel of grit in her molars after a windy day. 

The dagger-sharp silence of never-ending loneliness. 

Ripping open the old wounds that never really healed but merely clotted over, and rubbing as much salt as it can conjure up until the skin burns. 

“Make it stop!” she cries, unsure if they came from her mouth or merely dreamt them. Her fingernails dig painfully into the sides of her skull as she doubles over. 

The way her body blazes reminds her of a steroid booster. Like a ruthless, quick-moving parasite that’s infecting her from her own emotions. 

“Make it stop,” Rey whispers through tears. 

The mental onslaught continues before the razor-sharp precision of the attack suddenly lessens. Is she delirious to think that a second intrusion may be a welcome one? 

“Don’t lose yourself, Rey. Don’t keep fighting it.”

In the mindscape, his voice sounds filtered and modulated, like he’s speaking through a mask. 

“I can’t do this.” She gives an exhausted breath. “I don’t want to do this. Whatever this is, this is hell.” 

“It’ll get worse if you continue to fight it.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” she whimpers. 

“I’ll help you.” A figure materializes from the blackness around her and takes her hand without waiting for her to respond. Harsh gold shines eerily against the smoky obsidian backdrop. Rey’s hardly surprised that the sight doesn’t scare her as much as it used to. 

Mesmerizing eyes searing into her own, Rey flinches as he cups the side of her face, pressing their foreheads together and she’s helpless to resist him. Her belly flutters at the contact but she doesn’t pull away yet. 

Waves of… something oscillate across the bond but it’s warm, settling gently into her head first and then the rest of her bones, like fresh water in a shower. Rey gasps softly and his grip on her tightens, sensing her panicked thoughts. 

“Disce cum sapit non pugnare, little one,” he rumbles darkly. 

The pressure in her mind continues to fade, dulling the inferno inside her to flickering candlelight. 

“Be with me. Be with me, Rey.” 

🌗

When Kylo pulls back, he’s looking into the eyes of his sweating, short-breathed mate who’s staring up at him with total shock, terror, and bewilderment. 

Your mate’s frightened and hurt. Comfort her! 

So he does. 

Naturally, she protests, but he ignores her. He can feel her shaking in his arms as he strokes her hair, and despite the anger he can already feel resurrecting within her, she needs the comfort he can provide. Regardless of what she feels about him. 

Mate is letting us care for her, his wolf preens, pleased, while he struggles to reconcile the fact that he doesn’t want to sink his teeth into her neck. He finds a baby hair and twirls it wistfully around his finger, causing her to flinch. 

Must she always need an excuse to fight?

No doubt that entire experience scarred her. He remembers his first time. It’s horrid experiencing it, and even worse as a spectator. 

“What…” she chokes, working hard to get her breathing under control. There’s no small amount of disgust in her hazel eyes as she looks up at him. “What was that?” 

He hums. “That, little one, is the Dark Side.”