Panic surges before my boots slip on the slick ground, and I stumble hard, crashing into the snow. Pain cuts through my knees as I claw at the icy ground, desperate to rise, but my limbs feel heavy, sluggish. I push myself up, my arms weak, snow clinging to my skin as the bells grow deafening.
Then it stops completely as his shadow looms over me, and I freeze, every nerve screaming.
The sharp jab of his cane prods my back, and I lurch forward, the icy ground rushing up to meet my face. Snow burns against my skin as I roll onto my back, gasping for air. He’s there, towering above me, his breathless silence more oppressive than the cold.
The glowing cane presses against my throat and my chin lifts instinctively as the pressure cuts off my next breath.
“What do you want?” I whisper, the words trembling as they leave me, my chest rising and falling.
He tilts his head in response, the motion slow, calculated. Though the mask hides his expression, I can feel his eyes roaming over me, stripping me bare. The cane slides lower,deliberate and torturous, gliding down my neck and brushing between my breasts.
“Five, six, you’re gonna take my dick,” he murmurs, the eerie, distorted tune twisting into something vile and intimate. “Seven, eight, I know you cannot wait.”
My pulse spikes as his words sink in, the horrifying truth of what he wants slamming into me. His cane moves further down, skimming my stomach before dipping toward my thighs.
I clamp my legs together, locking them tight against the invasive movement. His cane presses harder, insistent, but I refuse to spread them.
“You’re fighting,” he murmurs, the unrecognizable voice dripping with mockery. “But I’ve already won. Now show me what I’ll be eating for Christmas dinner.”
I shake my head once, my eyes wide, heart hammering so loudly it drowns out the world around me.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice calm but laced with malice. “It’ll be our little secret. It always is. You don’t want me to make you, do you?”
My brows pinch, the world around me tilting further. The seconds tick by, each heavier than the last, the reality of the situation tightening around me. I can’t think. I can’t fucking process.
“Open. Your. Fucking. Legs,” he warns, his voice now sharp, each word slicing through the forest like a blade.
Instinct takes over, and without thinking, I twist onto my stomach, my body screaming to escape. I scramble onto all fours, but before I can move, he’s on me.
A scream tears from my throat as his gloved hand tangles in my hair, yanking me back with brutal force. The sound echoes through the area and he drops onto his knees behind me, dragging me back until I’m forced onto my knees between his thighs. My back slams into his chest, feeling the hard edges of his body.
The cane slides over the front of my throat, locking into place, and my head is forced back onto his shoulder. I clutch at the cane, my fingers clawing at it desperately, trying to stop the choking hold.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpse the beak of his mask, its shadowed eyes hollow, inhuman. His breath, harsh and ragged, echoes in my ear, mirroring my frantic gasps.
The danger is no longer a threat—it’s here, pressing into me, surrounding around me. His gaze drops to my chest, and though I can’t see his eyes, I feel the weight of it like a brand.
“I don’t want to just hurt you, snowflake,” he growls, the threat wrapped in a warped, almost personal tone. “I want to play with you while I'm doing it.”
“Doing what?” I gasp.
He doesn’t answer right away, the pause more horrifying than any words. The hunter in him enjoys the moment, savouring my fear like its fuel. He growls before removing the flashing cane, tosses it into the snow in front of us, but his gloved hand replaces it, wrapping tightly around my throat, keeping my head back against him.
His other hand presses down into the front of my dress, and my body tightens instantly. My hands shoot up to grab his wrist, preparing to scream from the assault. But when he grabsmy breast, the grip is all too familiar—despite the gloves—and a whimper slips from my throat before I can stop it.
He toys with my nipple, pinching it between his fingers, and my back arches, the pain a cruel mix of pleasure and torment.
“Nine, ten, I’m gonna make you come again.” His voice is a low sneer in my ear, and my eyes flutter shut as my body betrays me, responding to the command.
“Rook…” I whisper, my voice broken. “What are you—”
I try to tug on his arm again, but his grip around my throat tightens, cutting off my words.
“Obedience isn’t an option, little sister.. It’s the only way you’re gonna survive me this Christmas."
I can’t respond. The cold, the fear, the sinful pleasure—it all merges into something I can't escape. His hand remains tight around my throat, suffocating the air from my lungs, while his other rips from my breast and moves between my legs from behind.
“Mine to break. Mine to shape. Mine to keep, with no escape.”
