Reylo: These Violent Delights

Chapter 1: Taken

Rey sat at the bar, tapping her fingers to the shitty song coming from the stage.

While the endless flow of liquor and peppy beat of the music made Wor Groman's cantina the liveliest place in Mos Eisley, she wasn't feeling particularly chipper tonight. Not because she was surrounded by rogues, smugglers, and fugitives—that, she was used to—but because she was going insane listening to the same damn song over and over again. And yet, from an outsider's perspective, she probably looked like everyone else here. Laid back...happy...carefree...exactly what she wanted them to believe.

Some might call that deceitful, but Rey would call that her job.

She leaned forward, grabbing her drink and rolling the straw between her fingers. As she sensually placed it in her mouth, she saw Wor Groman—the large, male Durosian that was her target for the night—pivot toward her.

Too easy.

Trying to suppress her smile, Rey plucked the straw out of her mouth, focusing on the choker around her throat. She tilted her head to the side to give him a good view, trailing a finger under the ribbon. To anyone else, it looked like a dainty, black necklace tied into a cute little bow in the center. But to her, it was her contingency plan, thanks to the clasp in the back filled with what the Resistance called lullabies. Rey had no idea what was in the white, powdery substance, but she did know it was lethal, given to intelligence operatives and special unit fighters like her team in case a mission went sideways.

Wor moved to the table directly before her, but she continued to pretend not to notice him. She knew he wouldn't approach her, not yet. Because of the game he liked to play, he wanted her to know that he was watching her. Unbeknownst to him, she was playing a little game herself, and unfortunately for him, Rey would win. She always did.

She was good at her job; no, she was the best at her job. At the ripe age of twelve, she was taken under the wing of Tasu Leech, the topboss of Kanjiklub. While other kids learned about the sciences, galactic history, and languages, Rey learned the art of thievery, piracy, and extortion. And by the time she hit adolescence, street fighting became her specialty. Winning fights made Tasu look at her with fatherly pride, and while she thrived on that, it wasn't enough to put food in her belly or a roof over her head.

That's why, on her sixteenth birthday, Rey took her first gun-for-hire job.

It was a slippery slope from there. Killing people for a living wasn't an easy life, and it sure as hell wasn't an honorable one, but at least the gang offered her a sense of family—albeit a dysfunctional one. Alas, it had been a year since that life was taken away from Rey, when a failed rathtar haul ripped Tasu and his lieutenants apart. Literally.

A wave of grief washed over her. She knew she had to focus on the assignment at hand, but being in such a wretched hive of scum and villainy only reminded her of the gang's hideout on Kijimi. She missed that place, especially Tasu, but the last time she was there, the surviving members blamed her for his demise and forced Rey out.

Just as it always did, her grief gave away to anger. Pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek, she chanced a look at Wor again. He had pulled a Twi'lek dancer onto his lap, groping at her breasts while keeping his sights on Rey. The moron was trying to get her attention, and it had worked. She wanted to kill him even more now than she did five minutes ago.

With a frown, she dropped her hand from her throat, gliding a finger around the rim of her glass. Wor would assume Rey was pouting out of jealousy, but in reality, she was too busy stewing about how the gang fucked her over. Tasu's death wasn't her fault; Rey had begged him to let the rival Guavian Death Gang take on the mission, but in true topboss fashion, he had been blinded by the number of credits thrown in his lap. After his death, she realized the gang only tolerated her while Tasu was alive, and without his protection, she was forced to run for her life.

And run, she did. Rey thought she could elude them, but after a few weeks of evading their wrath, she realized that everything she had learned about disappearing, she had learned from them. They were always one step behind her, forcing her to flee to the second-most hated and desolate desert in the galaxy besides Tatooine—Jakku.

She didn't hate that desert wasteland because horrible things had happened to her there. Actually, it was the exact opposite. Up until she had watched her parents take off in a cruiser without her, Rey had been living a happy, quiet life with them on Jakku. The happiest she'd ever been. It wasn't so bad even when they went off-world and left her to scavenge under Unkar Plutt's supervision. She always told herself it was just temporary. That they'd see how good she was for him, how useful she could be, and they would come back for her. But that illusion was shattered on Rey's seventh birthday when Unkar gleefully told her the truth: her parents sold her for drinking money.

Abruptly flinging the straw out of her drink, Rey brought the glass to her lips to finish it, desperate to wash down the bitter taste of reality. She slammed it on the bar and lowered her chin, glaring at Wor. The Twi'lek had since left, but his eyes were still locked on Rey like a predator, making her heart thump excitedly in her chest.

I can't wait to kill you.

When he nodded at her, it took all of her self-control to stop herself from grabbing her vibroblade and chucking it at his big-ass head. Instead, Rey gave him a seductive smile and tried not to throw up in her mouth. It wasn't his green skin or his round, red eyes that gave her chills, nor was it the way he looked like a giant, walking praying mantis. No. She felt physically ill because he was a rapist—a rapist who wanted her to be his next victim.

Wor lifted his hand and used two fingers to beckon her over to him, his tongue licking at his lipless mouth. Rey stayed in her seat and pretended to be coy, immediately dropping her gaze to her glass. Now all she had to do was wait. She knew it would take a few moments for his pride to recover, but eventually, he would come to her. Just as planned.

If these were the old days and she was working with the gang, Wor Groman's corpse would already be thrown into a sarlacc pit, and she'd be drinking and dancing and fucking the night away. But now that she was in the Resistance, Rey had rules to abide by, real rules. It was as frustrating as it was foreign to her—she would never get used to living with good people—but she wouldn't dream of disobeying General Organa, not when she trusted Rey with her most sensitive and critical missions.

There was a break in the music, and a single clap rang out over the chatter in the bar—her signal to start the assignment. She sat up straight and looked in Wor's direction, ready to eye-fuck him and lure him over to her, but the slimy bastard was already conveniently heading her way.

Lucky me.

"Another vodka and moof juice for the lady," Wor barked as he slid into a place beside her, leaning against the bar. The bartender nodded and scurried away, and from the corner of her eye, Rey saw her target direct his attention toward her.

She glimpsed at him before looking away again. Per his reputation, she knew that Wor liked a challenge. He cleared his throat, but she kept her eyes straight ahead, an uncomfortable silence expanding between the heat of their bodies. When the bartender returned with Rey's drink, she finally gave Wor the slightest hint of acknowledgment as she pulled the glass closer to her.

She knew better than to drink it, but Wor seemed pleased either way. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Oh?" she said, throwing him a bored glance.

Wor grunted in affirmation as he dug in his shirt pocket. "Ask me how long it's been." When Rey rolled her eyes and looked away, he followed up with an aggressive demand. "Ask me."

She peeked over at him, chin down, and pushed a loose hair behind her ear. She let her lashes flutter a few times before responding. "How long?"

Wor retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. After lighting it, he sucked down the fumes and exhaled. "Years."

"Since what?"

"Since I've seen a pretty little thing like you walk through those doors."

Wor didn't give Rey a chance to respond, flipping the cigarette around and holding it up to her lips. One would think he was simply offering her a drag, but she understood the meaning behind the gesture—to deny the cigarette would be to deny him, to accept his offer would allow his advances. She knew what she had to do.

She hesitated before parting her lips, her gaze still on his big, round bug eyes. He placed the cigarette in her mouth, and she inhaled deeply, hating every second of it.

Rey blew smoke in his face when he pulled it from her lips. "Come," he ordered, pushing himself off the bar. "I want to show you something."

She lifted a single brow. "What could you possibly have to show me?"

"The sunset from the rooftop, baby." After he took another drag, Wor twisted the cigarette into the tabletop and spoke through the cloud of smoke. "This is the tallest building on the entire planet of Tatooine."

Rey glanced at the guard by the stairs, then gave Wor a seductive look. "Will we be all alone up there, or...?"

He extended his hand for her to take. "That's why I want you up there, little lady."

Rey slipped her hand in his, biting her tongue and trying not to gag as he clutched her with his warm, meaty fingers. She stepped off the bar stool, letting him go to lead the way across the room. As she wove through the crowd, her eyes found Finn—her comrade who clapped—and she gave him a swift nod. He returned it and stood up, retreating outside to the shuttle while two members of her crew, Drox and Zeven, remained in their booth.

When Rey made it to the base of the stairwell, Wor's thick fingers rested on her lower back, eliciting the shudder that crawled up her spine. She twisted around to face him, trying to get his paws off her. It didn't work.

"That skirt is truly a sight to see," he purred, placing his hand back on her hip.

Rey tried moving away from him again. "I'm sure the view from on top is even better," she cooed, hoping he wasn't too dense to understand her double meaning.

He twisted his mouth into a devilish smile. "Let's go, princess," he said, approaching the guard blocking the stairwell. He held out his hand once more. "Come to me."

She walked past him, ignoring his hand—and the way he called her princess—as the guard stepped aside for her. She took her time climbing the steps, swaying her hips to give him a show. Wor already made it known he liked her form-fitting skirt, and sauntering up the stairs ensured he was also distracted from her black, sheer crop top.

She slowed, her jaw dropping as she took the final step onto the rooftop. Wor was a bad, bad man, but he did get one thing right—the sunset from the top of the cantina was stunning. Rey never thought she'd say that when she first walked through the streets of Mos Eisley. Half the establishments in this dust bowl were in shambles, all colored beige, while the 362 docking bays encased the city in a fume bubble of burnt oil and fuel.

More than anything, she hated the sand. It was coarse and rough and irritating and somehow got everywhere, but from up here, the winds moved it in a regal, mesmerizing way, like gentle waves on a great sea. Even the decaying, cream-colored huts now looked like warm, reflective orbs, and the community junkyard looked idyllic from the binary sunset's golden glow.

"Oh my gods," Rey breathed, twirling around as she felt Wor's eyes on her. But she ignored him, fixated on how the muggy sky seemed to transform into a creamy blend of magenta and blue just because she was watching. The rays from the two suns—one white and one red—mixed together to create a vibrant beam of orange light, breathing rich life into the otherwise dull landscape of Tatooine. And as the sunbeams warmed her face, a red shooting star blew across the sky, pulling an amazed exhale from her lips.

"I like that sound," Wor said, his thick, muscular arms enclosing Rey's waist.

She closed her eyes, crashing back down to reality and groaning internally that the slimeball ruined such a beautiful moment. Leaning into him, she faked a moan as he groped her breasts. He played with her like this for a few moments, his arousal digging into her back, and she tried her best to make her sounds of pleasure convincing.

Wor's hot breath tickled her ear. "Tell me what you want."

I want to make you bleed. Spinning around to face him, Rey placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him with innocent eyes. On her tippy toes, she leaned into his ear and whispered, "I want to make you feel good."

The line that was Wor's mouth twitched up. He grabbed her hand and walked backward, stopping when he positioned himself against the wall. Once he spread his legs and splayed his arms out by his side, Rey dropped to her knees and grabbed the bulge in his pants. She looked up at him with pretend excitement and his breath caught in his throat.

"You look so pretty on your knees," came his grating warble. "You're fucking perfect."

She bit her lip as she firmly rubbed at his erection. "Ask me how long."

"How long?" he panted, pushing his groin into her face with a pathetic moan.

"Since the second I heard about you," Rey muttered, taking his zipper between her fingers.

When she pulled it down too slowly for his liking, Wor threw his head back and groaned. "Oh, come on."

She giggled, slipping her hand into his boxers to grip his length while her other hand dipped between her thighs. "Ask me, since what?"

He moaned as she tugged at him harder. "Since...since what?"

Rey finally gave him a genuine smile when her fingers curled around her weapon. "Since I've wanted to do this."

She acted fast. A flicker of confusion flashed across Wor's face before his mouth twisted in pain, a small gasp of surprise escaping his throat. He looked down at her hands, one of them still in his boxers, the other gripping the handle of her vibroblade buried in his belly.

"No!"

"Yes," Rey shot back, using the handle to pull herself off her knees. He grunted and stepped forward, trying to reach for her, but she stepped out of the way as he collapsed on his side.

"You...bitch," Wor gasped through bloodied teeth as he looked down at the red, sticky liquid oozing from his wound. "You fucking bitch."

"Mmm, now you're talking dirty to me," Rey crooned, satisfaction pumping through her veins as she watched him writhe on the ground. She wished he would suffer all night, but as per Organa's orders, she had oiled her blade with a fast-acting poison to grant her victims quicker deaths.

"Why...why?" he groaned, his big, ugly head lolling from side to side.

"Awww, did I trick you?" she taunted, crouching beside him. "Poor Mr. Groman. Somebody beat you at your own game."

He moaned and tried to turn away from her. "Ah, ah, ah," Rey said, clicking her tongue at him. She grabbed the hilt of her dagger and wrenched it in as deep as it would go. "This is for every woman you have ever hurt, you sick fuck."

As the blood oozed from the gash and Wor's moans faded away, her eyes flickered to his face—she wanted to watch him die. But by the looks of him, he was already gone.

Good riddance, motherfucker.

Sighing, Rey stood up to smooth out her skirt and readjust her shirt. She wasn't alarmed when she heard footsteps hastily approach, nor did she even raise her head when Zeven groaned.

"Really? We told you to wait for us!"

Rey winked at her. "Took too long. Sorry." Drox entered behind her, and she gave him a nod. "Hey."

"Goddammit, Rey," Drox hissed, running his hands through his hair. "Why didn't you wait? We had to take out the guard to get to you!"

"Stop being so dramatic," she said, rolling her eyes. "He's not blameless in all of this, either. He was standing watch all those times this sleemo took innocent girls up here." She waved a dismissive hand as she turned her attention back to Wor. After bending down to retrieve her dagger from his flesh, she wiped the blood off on his tunic and stood up to face her friends. "So, wanna get a drink?"

Zeven put her hands on her hips. "If you had waited for us, we would have told you to abort the mission."

This made her pause. "And why on Naboo would I do that?"

"Because General Organa just alerted us to pull the division out!" Drox yelled, raising his arms for emphasis. "The First Order is approaching the Tatooine system now, looking for this piece of shit in particular. The others are already at the cruiser. Now we don't have time to hide the body!"

Rey's shoulders dropped. "Oh, shit."

"Yeah, shit! Now they'll tear apart the galaxy to find who killed Wor, and—"

"Guys," Zeven interjected.

She narrowed her eyes at Drox. "Well, if we had gotten earpieces like I asked for—"

"GUYS!"

Both Rey and Drox looked at Zeven, shouting in unison. "WHAT?"

Zeven pointed to the sky, her hand trembling at the two First Order transports hovering above the city. Then came the harrowing sound of TIE fighters breaking the sound barrier.

Rey looked at them both and yelled, "RUN!"

The three of them scampered down the stairs faster than lightspeed. Guests gasped and turned their way as they bolted through the cantina, but Rey wasn't worried about them ratting them out to the Order. In a place like this, all they cared about was not spilling their drinks.

She pummeled through the front door, yelling a frazzled sorry! at the group of Twi'leks she almost crashed into. But the farther she got away from the cantina, the less apologetic she became, shouting at the drunk locals to get out of her way—something they chose not to hear. If that didn't complicate things enough, the streets narrowed as she approached the spaceport, the huts pressing into her from both sides, and of course, the godforsaken sand was goddamn everywhere.

In her eyes, her nose, her mouth—with each step Rey and her comrades took, a flurry of sand and dust would fly into her face. One would think a lawless place like this would understand the importance of paved roads for a fast getaway, but it was messy, uneven, and it only validated her belief that sand and Mos Eisley were the most wretched things in the galaxy.

"Almost there!" Drox yelled, and at first, she felt a sense of relief, but then she got a better look at the First Order transports making their final descent. Even before joining the Resistance, Rey had known those particular ships carried 709th Legion Stormtroopers—the best of the best and handpicked by the Supreme Leader himself.

Her heart raced in her chest. "Did they just land in our hangar?"

"Yep!" Drox yelled.

"Fuck!"

Zeven threw an exasperated glance over her shoulder. "Yep!"

"Get ready to fight!" Rey shouted back, and in response, Drox and Zeven unclipped their blasters. She reached for hers, but groaned when she remembered wearing this little clothing meant she only had her vibroblade.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she panted, entering the tunnel that led to the spaceport. The only shuttle she could see from this vantage point was her own, parked in the stall directly across from the entrance—the farthest away from her. She ran faster. As dim lights led the way, she said a prayer to herself that the Stormtroopers hadn't unloaded their ships yet, and if they had, that they'd be able to get away in time. This was the largest docking bay in Mos Eisley, after all, with two hundred stalls stationed around the massive, circular perimeter. Plus, she didn't know if they were actually after them, and it was almost dark out, and earlier, the garage lights weren't working and—

The moment Rey burst through the tunnel, her heart sank. It didn't matter that the hangar wasn't well-lit; the First Order transports were equipped with blinding white lights that flooded every nook and cranny of the docking bay. And just to make sure they squashed all chances of hope, they lowered both of their ramps at the same time, sending their troops running out through a thick plume of steam as white as their armor.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

In front of her, Drox and Zeven veered to the right—the opposite direction of the First Order transports—and Rey hastily followed. From across the hangar, she could hear the grumble of her shuttle as it roared to life as Finn ran down the ramp, screaming their names and begging them to run faster. She pushed forward as hard as she could, heart pumping and lungs aching, but was forced to duck when the first blaster shot soared right over her head.

Okay, so maybe they are after us.

"You three, halt!"

Zeven and Drox opened fire as they cut through the middle of the port, but without her blaster, Rey was forced to stay close to the perimeter. It would take longer, but it was the safer bet; her team could deal with the First Order scum long enough until she reached the shuttle, sight unseen.

At least, that's what she had hoped. "Halt!" came a Stormtrooper's demand, a blaster shot exploding at her feet to punctuate the command. She yelped and briefly looked at him, but didn't slow her pace. He was much closer than she realized, but this brought her relief, not panic. He would have killed her by now if he had wanted her dead. "I said, halt!"

Still, Rey did not engage. She started to grab her vibroblade, just in case the 'trooper caught up with her, but the whine of an incoming First Order ship forced her attention up to the sky. When she saw a shuttle with tall, slanted wings hover above the other transports, Rey's stomach twisted into knots.

"No," she whispered to herself. "No."

A command shuttle like that could only mean one thing: the Supreme Leader of the galaxy was here.

With panicked breaths slamming in and out of her lips, Rey looked ahead to see that Drox and Zeven were almost at the shuttle. The others stood on the ramp, exchanging fire where they could keep cover, while she forced her legs to move faster than ever before.

Almost there, almost there. Just a little bit farther, I'm so clo—

The Stormtrooper chasing her had other plans, clearly, as his body collided with hers and took her ass down. The weight of his armor made her drop, her head slamming into the ground as a piercing pain shot up her side. It was an ungraceful fall, the kind that left her with a bloody mouth and an unladylike grunt of pain. Both of them scrambled to get the upper hand, but he succeeded in straddling her to attempt to pin her arms by her side. But even in her disorientation, Rey managed to fight back and throw him off balance.

"Stop resisting, or I will shoot!" She laughed in his face, and he added, "Please!" Even through his helmet, she could tell he was the one panicking. She almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Using his rising hysteria as an opportunity, Rey threw all her weight upward and headbutted him. He remained on top of her, but the blow threw him off balance long enough for her to reach the blade strapped to her thigh. She lashed out at him, but her first swipe only made contact with his armor, giving him time to scramble for his blaster.

But Rey was quicker.

She let out a yell, pivoting underneath him and twisting her hand to slip through the small cracks in his armor. It hurt like hell, and how her hand bent that way would remain a mystery until the end of time, but it was well worth it. She got him, confirmed by the hiss that emanated from his helmet.

It wouldn't kill him, but it gave her time to get out from under him. Hooking her knee between his legs, she thrust forward and forced him off. He clambered for the blaster but she jumped on him, straddling his hips as she slipped her fingers under his helmet. His hands flew to his neck to stop her from exposing his throat, but he didn't stand a chance—her blade cut into his flesh like a hot knife searing through butter.

Rey winced as the blood gushed over his gloves. This is not how I thought this day was gonna go.

As she watched him gargle and choke on his own blood, she felt her eyes gloss over and her body numb. She was responsible for countless deaths, but she had never witnessed someone die so loudly before. It was disgusting, it was messy, but shock kept Rey frozen in place, unable to bring anything else to the forefront of her mind. Such as her own wounds, which desperately needed attention, or the fact that she had somewhere to be...right?

She blinked as she tried to remember, her heartbeat slow and heavy in her head. But then the Stormtrooper took his last breath and his hand fell from his throat, sending a purge of blood from the slash. Rey gagged at the pungent, coppery odor, and it forced her off his corpse like it was on fire. On her hands and knees, she closed her eyes to stabilize herself, but the world around her was spinning and there was a violent, shrill ringing in her ears. From somewhere up ahead, someone yelling pierced through the fog in her skull.

"REY!"

She heard it again, along with muffled shouts like they were far away. Who's screaming? Her head spun. She wanted it to stop—the noise, the blood, the pain that seeped its way in. But she heard her name again and it sounded more urgent this time. She forced herself up, and that's when she saw the transport, along with her team waiting for her on the ramp.

And then it hit her. Run.

Despite the blaring pain ripping through her temples and side, Rey placed one foot in front of the other. A warm stickiness dripped down her forehead, impeding her vision, but she pushed through. She was so close to the cruiser now, she could hear the way her heels would clang against the steel ramp as she ran inside. She could imagine how its signature smell of earth, rust, and smoke would wrap around her, clinging to her clothes the second she stepped on board. She could even hear the way Poe and Chewie so often bickered in the cockpit while Finn tried to mediate between them, and she could feel Drox's heavy arm wrapping around her shoulders and Zeven slamming her fist against Rey's—a telltale sign that they had completed yet another successful assignment.

A smile split across her face. It would be there on that shuttle that she'd recuperate on the way back to home base, where she would see the rest of her family. Her home. Her safe haven.

"We did it, guys!" Rey yelled to her team as the shuttle teeter-tottered off the ground. "We did it!"

But then, Rey's body came to a stop. She yelped and looked down, bracing to fall forward, but an invisible rope wrapped around her and kept her frozen in place. Horror seized her by the throat. She knew only Force-users had this ability, which meant it could only be one specific person approaching her. But she didn't want to say his name. Refused to. Because then she'd have to accept that it was too late. That she was doomed.

"NO, REY!" came Zeven's raw scream. "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!"

Through shouts and tears, Zeven clawed at Drox to get around him, but he wouldn't let her, grabbing her by the midsection and yanking her back. Rey blinked rapidly, trying to will away the tears in her eyes, convincing herself that Drox was just securing Zeven before he saved her himself. To bring her to the shuttle, her safe haven. But then the ramp rose off the ground.

"Wait," Rey panicked, trying to push forward to no avail. "WAIT!"

The shuttle ascended quickly, and yet, time slowed down for her. Stormtroopers swarmed with their weapons raised as they shot at the ship, but their movements seemed sluggish. She watched in horror as the rest of her team screamed her name from the top of the closing ramp, but it sounded distorted, far away. It wasn't until the chunk of metal hissed closed that she was jolted back into real-time.

"No, don't go," Rey cried. But it was too late, they were leaving without her. A death sentence.

Tears poured down her face. After everything, this was how it ended? Rey had run with real ruffians and thugs of the galaxy, people without rules, a code, or even a cause. And yet, they never abandoned her on a mission. They fought for her, they fought beside her, and that was when they didn't even like her. But there was mutual respect for one another, and when she was a part of their family, she would die for them and vice versa.

When Organa took her in, she promised Rey would have that same sense of reinforcement, but better. More stable, more consistent, safer...but the wind force of the departing shuttle stung her eyes, and she watched her team ascend higher and higher until they were just a speck in the sky.

Betrayal slammed into her. They abandoned me.

Rey's bottom lip trembled, tears bleeding freely down her face. She still couldn't move. If she could, she'd collapse from the grief settling atop her shoulders. She sensed her perpetrator watching her as he drew near, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fight. She'd die like this, all because she tried to do things the right way, joining a cause that was supposed to be good, do good. But the same good guys that saved her from one godforsaken desert, now left her to die in a different one.

When footsteps approached her from behind, Rey asked the question she already knew the answer to. "Who, who's there?"

No response. As he got closer, there was a shift in the air around her, as though the giant docking bay was shrinking from all sides. Blaster shots, explosions, starfighters whining in the sky...they all faded away. All Rey could hear was her pulse throbbing in her head and the agonizingly slow crunch, crunch, crunch of the thin layer of sand atop the stone ground. And when a tall, masked creature dressed in all black came into her vision, all she could see was him.

Kylo Ren. General Organa's son. The Supreme Leader of the galaxy. The man she knew was behind her this whole time, but she was too stubborn to admit it to herself. The man Rey had heard so much about, even before Leia found comfort in her presence in the late hours of the night, a glass of whiskey in her hand as she spoke about what her son had become. A monster, a sick, twisted monster that brought death and destruction wherever he went.

A new Vader.

"You know who I am," he mused, his voice flat and disinterested through his mask. "Can't say the same about you."

Rey tried to respond but couldn't. That brought her some comfort—if she could speak, he'd hear the wavering in her voice, the heartache that would pour from her lips. He was already going to kill her. She didn't want to also give him the satisfaction of seeing her stutter over her words, too.

He waited a long moment, the silver visor of his black mask locked on her face, before placing his hands behind his back. He began circling her, so closely, his robes brushed against her leg. "Not that I need to know."

His hold on her dissipated, leaving Rey breathless as she collapsed to the ground. She scrambled to get up, to fight. She crouched and reached for her dagger, pulling it out and pointing it at him. "Stay away! I'm, I'm warning you!"

Kylo let out a cruel, humorless laugh. "Cute." He outreached his hand, and the blade was ripped from hers to fly into his. "This is a too high-tech of a dagger for a Resistance rat like you. Used by trained killers and the like," he muttered, studying the weapon in his hands. He used his fingers to wipe off the Stormtrooper's blood before setting his gaze on her. "Either you stole this from somebody...or you're not the average Resistance rat."

Rey didn't respond, but she tensed at the latter.

He sounded amused. "Ah. So the General has created a new class of soldiers to defeat me," he mused, twirling her vibroblade before securing it in his belt. "Can't say I blame her."

"You're wrong. I've been trained since I was a kid to take down scum like you," she spat, bottom lip trembling. "That's why your mom hired me."

"Is that so?" he murmured, taking slow, menacing steps toward her.

"Yes," Rey said, retreating from his advances. She cursed and tried to twist away when her spine collided with the wall, but Kylo closed in on her, keeping her pinned with his towering presence alone.

"Hm, an ousted Kanjiklub assassin now commits crimes for General Organa." He paused. "How predictable. She always did have a soft spot for scoundrels."

Collecting all the saliva she could from the back of her throat, Rey tried to hock a wad of it in his face, but Kylo raised a gloved hand and clamped it over her mouth. Her hands flew to his arm, scrabbling at it to pull it off her face, but he used his hold on her to shove her against the stone. She squirmed and tried to get away as he smeared the spit all over her lips and chin, but he didn't let her go until a Stormtrooper approached his position.

"Supreme Leader, we found Wor Groman."

Rey crouched as Kylo spun around, his shoulders tight and hands balled into fists by his sides. Pressing her back into the wall, she tried to inch around it without drawing attention to herself. She just had to be quiet enough to get inside the stall, then she could attempt to flee.

"And the Emperor's crystal?" came Kylo's deep, modified voice.

"No crystal, sir."

"Bring him on board," the Supreme Leader demanded, starting to walk away from her. She threw a desperate glance at the Stormtrooper who was shuffling his feet. Please don't say it, please don't—

"He's dead, sir."

Fuck. Rey bolted, but only managed to go a few steps before the Force stopped her in her tracks, turned her around, and lifted her into the air. With the point of her heels digging into the ground, she flew right into his hand, throat first.

"You."

He had only said one word, but it was filled with so much malice, so much hatred, Rey could feel the stomach acid bubble in her gut. Wide eyes darted across his mask as she clawed at the hand curling around her neck. She wanted to scream at him to put her down, but her jaw could only drop and rise with the effort of trying to breathe.

Kylo pressed a hand over her face. "You will give me everything."

An unforgiving pain sliced through her mind, and with a twist of his wrist, Rey could feel him tearing through her memories. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, her face crumpling in agony as her entire life flashed before her eyes. Her parents leaving her on Jakku, Unkar Plutt forcing her to scavenge the desert for him, Tasu bringing her into the gang, her introduction to General Organa, the way she trusted Rey with sensitive information about Skywalker's location twice now, and just weeks ago, asked her to travel to his current hideout on Exegol...

Rey's tormentor pulled out of her mind with so much force, she expected to feel brain matter slide down her forehead when he tore his hand away. She screamed and fell to the ground, placing her hands over the back of her head to try and keep it from splitting apart. Furious ramblings soared above her, but she could only process part of what he was saying.

"Luke...Exegol...the Citadel..."

Time flowed in a fragmented manner. She couldn't tell how long she spent trying to stand up, reeling and groaning as his livid shouting rippled around the spaceport. She was too disoriented to move, to think. It wasn't until Kylo had her on her knees, forcing her to look at him, that Rey realized he had pulled her up by the buns in her hair.

"Why you?" the mask demanded, blurry as he swayed in and out of her vision. "Why did my mother disclose the last Jedi's location to a filthy scavenger like you?"

"I...I..." she tried to respond, but she was too dizzy. She started to collapse again, but Kylo gripped the top of her head, snapping her weary eyes to his mask.

"Who are you?"

Rey blinked up at him, this man towering over her like death himself, his broad chest swelling with powerful breaths, and a wave of delirium hit her. The Supreme Leader of the galaxy was angry because he thought she was somebody important. That General Organa chose her because she was important. But she wasn't. Rey was nobody, and in her final moments, she found that she had finally come to peace with that. Before she let out a frail whisper, the slightest of smiles touched her cracked lips.

"I thought you didn't need to know."

Kylo remained still as he stood over her, his fingertips digging into her scalp as he forced her to look up at him from her knees, and in his silence, Rey felt herself slipping away. The edge of her vision started to darken and blur, and her head spun but it didn't hurt—if anything, she felt light and comfortable.

"You're so right," he said calmly, his voice swirling around her as she drifted off. Kylo moved his hand to cover her face. "Sleep."

Rey welcomed the darkness that pulled her under.