Chapter 1: The Cabin Pact
The cabin smelled of pine sap and old woodsmoke, a scent that clung to the back of the throat. Outside, the late afternoon light was failing, bleeding through the birch trees and casting long, crooked shadows across the floorboards. Alice traced the grain of the kitchen table with a fingertip, listening to the wind nag at the eaves.
“So?” Maja’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and playful. She leaned against the counter, a bottle of red wine already open beside her. “We’ve been here six hours. Are we actually going to talk about it, or are we just going to stare at the lake until our brains freeze?”
Katja chuckled from the sagging sofa, stretching her long legs out. “Give her a minute. She’s absorbing the vibes.”
“The vibes are damp,” Elin chirped, bouncing on the balls of her feet by the fireplace. She was always bouncing. “And I didn’t pack my good underwear for vibes.”
Alice felt their eyes on her—three points of warm, expectant pressure. This was their annual girls’ weekend, a tradition usually filled with too much wine, terrible movies, and nostalgia. This year, the group chat had been… different. Suggestion emojis. Links to articles. Maja’s increasingly bold pronouncements about “unlocked potential.”
“Talk about what, exactly?” Alice asked, though she knew. Her face felt warm.
Maja pushed off the counter and glided over, her dark hair a dramatic frame for her smirk. She poured four generous glasses. “About the fact that you’ve been the good girl for twenty-eight years. About that look you get sometimes, like you’re watching your own life through a window. About what you whispered to me at Lova’s wedding when you were shit-faced on champagne.”
Alice’s breath hitched. She remembered. The heat of the summer night, the dizzy swirl of lights, the ache of something unnameable as she watched the bride and groom. She’d leaned into Maja’s shoulder and confessed a fantasy so vivid and overwhelming it had shocked even her. She’d woken up the next morning hoping it had been a dream.
“That was… wine talking,” Alice mumbled.
“The best truths are,” Katja said softly. Her tone was calm, matter-of-fact. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting what you want. Curiosity isn’t a crime.”
Elin bounded over, handing Alice a glass. “It’s an adventure! A very, very fun-looking adventure. Think of it like… bungee jumping. For your libido.”
Alice took the wine, the bowl of the glass cool in her hands. “I don’t even know what we’re saying. What’s the plan? We sit here and I… confess more things? That’s it?” A part of her hoped that was it. The thrill of the confession, then the safe return to normalcy.
Maja’s smile widened. She took a slow sip, her eyes never leaving Alice’s. “Oh, sweetheart. No. I don’t do theoretical. I made a call.”
The air left the room. The crackle of the fire Elin had been struggling with suddenly seemed very loud.
“What call?” Alice asked.
“Yesterday. To a guy I know from the city. He’s… connected. Discreet.” Maja set her glass down with a deliberate click. “I told him we’d be here. I told him what we were… interested in. He’s bringing three friends.”
The world tilted. Alice’s grip tightened on her glass. Four men. Strangers. Here. The isolation of the cabin, miles from the main road, which had felt so cozy moments ago, now felt vast and terrifying. “You didn’t. You can’t just… arrange people.”
“I just did,” Maja said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. “They’re not monsters. They’re normal guys. They know the score. It’s just… an experience. For everyone.”
Panic, sharp and acidic, rose in Alice’s chest. “Maja, no. I can’t. This is insane.” She looked to Katja for rescue, for the voice of reason.
Katja uncurled herself from the sofa and walked over. She didn’t touch Alice, just stood close, a solid, reassuring presence. “You are in control. From second one to last. A word, a look, and it stops. This isn’t something that happens to you. It’s something you choose to do. Or not. Right now, you can say no, and we open another bottle and laugh about Maja being a lunatic. No harm, no foul.”
“But?” Alice whispered, hearing the unspoken word.
“But,” Katja echoed, a faint smile on her lips. “I’ve been where you are. The fear is just the door swinging open. On the other side… it’s just a different kind of freedom. You’re safe. We’re here.”
Elin squeezed her shoulder. “And I picked them! Well, from photos. They’re all très cute. No weirdos. Scout’s honor.”
Alice looked at their faces—Maja’s defiant excitement, Katja’s steady confidence, Elin’s bubbly encouragement. The fantasy, the secret one she’d buried, unspooled in her mind, no longer abstract. It had a time. It had a place. It had four faces she hadn’t seen yet. The panic didn’t vanish, but beneath it, another feeling stirred, deep and insistent. A thrilling, terrifying curiosity.
Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. She took a large, unsteady gulp of wine, the taste bold and dark.
“When?” she heard herself ask, the word barely a breath.
Maja’s eyes glittered with triumph. “Tonight. They’ll be here at nine.”
The clock above the fireplace read ten past seven. The lake outside was a sheet of black glass, reflecting nothing.
“Okay,” Alice said, the word feeling both weightless and monumental. “Okay.”
The next hour passed in a surreal blur. Another bottle was opened. Music was put on—something rhythmic and low. Elin started giggling uncontrollably, which made Katja smile, which made Alice feel a hysterical laugh of her own bubbling up. Maja was all business, moving through the cabin, lighting candles, plumping cushions, creating an atmosphere.
Alice stood by the large window, watching the last of the twilight die. She felt detached from her own body, observing the scene as if from a distance. Katja came and stood beside her, silent for a while.
“The first time is the strangest,” Katja said finally, her voice quiet. “It feels like you’ve stepped outside of your life. Like you’re watching someone else. Then, at some point, you realize you’ve never been more inside your own skin. Every nerve is awake. It’s… clarifying.”
“What if I freeze?” Alice asked, the core of her fear laid bare.
“Then you freeze. It’s allowed.” Katja shrugged. “But you won’t. You’re braver than you think.”
At ten minutes to nine, the cabin was a cocoon of soft light and shadow. The air was warm, scented with wine and wax and anticipation. Alice’s shyness had metamorphosed into a wired, humming alertness. Every sense was heightened. The texture of her sweater against her arms. The taste of the wine on her tongue. The sound of her own pulse in her ears.
Then, a vibration. Not a sound, but a feeling through the floorboards.
Headlights.
Two sets, cutting sweeping white arcs through the trees, illuminating the falling needles and the thick moss. They swung toward the cabin, painting the wall in a slow, blinding sweep before going dark.
Engines cut off.
Doors opened, then closed. Solid sounds in the quiet night.
Footsteps on gravel, multiple, crunching in unison, then separating as they hit the dirt path.
A knock, firm and expected, rattled the old door in its frame.
Alice jumped. She looked at her friends. Maja’s expression was one of fierce satisfaction. Elin bit her lip, eyes wide. Katja gave Alice a small, slow nod.
It was here. The other side of the door.
Maja took a deep breath, smoothed her top, and walked forward to open it.
Maja took a deep breath, smoothed her top, and walked forward to open it.
The cool night air rushed in first, carrying the scent of pine and diesel, followed by the shapes of four men silhouetted against the deep blue twilight. They filed in, bringing a new, charged energy that made the candle flames shudder. Alice’s gaze traveled over them—their confident stances, their curious eyes scanning the room, the easy smile of the one in front—and her throat went dry. She felt Katja’s steadying hand on the small of her back, and after a heartbeat that stretched forever, Alice lifted her chin, looked directly at the man who’d entered first, and let a slow, deliberate smile touch her lips.
“I’m Alice,” she said, her voice clear and sure in the quiet.
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing the cabin in a new, charged silence. They filled the small space, a wall of unfamiliar scents—cold leather, clean sweat, the faint sharpness of aftershave. The one in front, a broad-shouldered man with a close-cropped beard and kind eyes, broke into a warm smile. “I’m Lars,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to calm the frantic beat of Alice’s heart. Behind him, the other three exchanged glancing smiles with Maja, Elin, and Katja, as the planned evening settled irrevocably into reality.