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Chapter 1 - A Place Called Safe They called it a place of peace. A secluded patch of land forgotten by time, surrounded by fields, thick woods, and silence that pressed against your skin. No electricity. No cars. No internet. Just dirt paths, candlelight, and people who watched everything. Watched each other. Watched strangers. Watched sin.

Ruthie had lived here nearly all her life. She wore the same modest dress as the other women—long-sleeved, buttoned up to her throat, brushing past her ankles. Her brown hair was always covered in a headcloth, her feet always bare in the house, and her voice rarely raised above a whisper.

But underneath that fabric... Her body was a fucking temptation wrapped in linen. She had a slim waist, but her tits were round and tight, always pressed against the fabric like they were begging to breathe. Her ass—perky, high, and firm—made the hem of her dress lift slightly when she bent over, just enough to make old men groan quietly to themselves. And her lips... full, soft, naturally parted, like she was always about to suck on something.

She didn't even realize it.

She had no idea what her body did to men in this place. But they knew. And none more than Chief Abner.

The death of her stepfather had broken something in the house.

He'd been the only one protecting them—the only reason this community tolerated her mother. People whispered about her for years. Said she ran from the city because she was in trouble with her daughter. Said she was no better than a harlot. Said no good could come from her blood. But he loved her. He shielded them. And when he died... the vultures started circling again.

A year later, her mother packed her bag with trembling hands.

"I have to go back," she said, not looking Ruthie in the eyes. "Just for a while. I'll find work. I'll come back for you." Ruthie's lips parted. "I don't want to stay here alone. Please take me with you."

"The city isn't safe," her mother said. Her voice was flat, but her hands were shaking. "You're safer here. These people may be harsh, but they'll keep you from harm." She paused, then added, almost too softly to hear: "And you'll be staying with Chief Abner, your step grandfather. He's family."

Ruthie swallowed. She'd known him all her life—her stepfather's father, the man who had been at every gathering, every prayer meeting, every funeral. But he'd never once held her, never once looked at her with warmth. Their relationship was like the cold wood of his porch—present, solid, and utterly void of affection. He was a figure of discipline, of silence, of eyes that watched but never comforted. And now, he was all she had.

Her mother forced a smile. "He'll take care of you."

The house loomed ahead, old timber and iron nails, looking more like a command than a home.

The front door creaked open. Chief Abner stepped out into the sunlight, hands behind his back, face unreadable. He was tall—unreasonably so for his age. His spine didn't hunch like most old men. He stood straight, like someone who had always been in charge. His

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