Chapter 39. The Barn Trap

Chapter 39. The Barn Trap


Nolie POV
I ran.
The roar of the bullfight still echoed behind me, but all I could hear were screams in my head. My sisters’ screams.
“Hold on,” I gasped, my heels slipping against the stone floor as I tore through the corridor. “Please… just hold on.”
That was all I heard in my head as my heels slapped against the stone corridor. My heart hammered like a drum inside my chest, loud enough I swore it echoed through the hall. Behind me, the roar of the bullfight blurred with screams that weren’t even there—my sisters’ voices, phantom and sharp, cutting me open.
Every turn looked wrong. Every doorway looked like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.
“Please, God,” I whispered, breath jagged, “let them be alive.”
I pushed through the side door, light flickering low, air colder. The smell of hay and dust crept in, and I knew the barn was close. My legs burned but I didn’t stop. Not until I slammed into something hard.
Someone.
Strong hands caught my shoulders, shoving me back against the wall.
“Well, well,” he sneered.
The boy from the brothel.”  Thick wrists, scarred knuckles, eyes too mean to be just another servant. He stank of sweat and cheap liquor. His grin showed teeth stained from tobacco
“Get out of my way,” I snapped, trying to push past.
His hand shot out, slamming against the wall beside my head. The heat of his breath curled around me.
“Not this time. You got lucky back at the mansion. Left me with blue balls and laughing stock in front of my brothers. You think I forgot?” His grin stretched wider, meaner. “Arjona remembered. She pays good for scars. Especially on your pretty little face.”
“You.” My voice cracked. I knew his face From that night. My stomach turned. “How the hell”
“I told you,” he cut in, pressing his weight forward until I felt his breath hot against my cheek. “You were lucky that night. Slipped away before I got what I wanted. But tonight?” His grin stretched wider. “No escape.”
Panic crawled up my throat, but I shoved at his chest. “Get off me!”
He laughed. Low, ugly. “Arjona plans well. Always did. Paid me good coin to wait for you. Said you’d come running. Like a rabbit.”
My blood went cold. A trap. I stumbled sideways, shoving past him. He didn’t chase—he followed, slow, confident, like a predator.
I bolted through the wide doors of the barn, lungs burning. My eyes swept the stalls, the shadows, searching. “Girls?!” My voice cracked, echoing. “Where are you?!”
Silence.
My chest seized. The barn was empty. Hay scattered. Chains dangling. But no sisters, It Had Been all a trap.
And then I smelled it.
Smoke.
The boy stepped inside, closing the doors with a heavy slam that shook the beams. The clank of the latch sliding into place was louder than any scream.
He moved to the center, where a small fire already burned in a rusted barrel. Flames flickered, orange light cutting across his face. In his hand—something worse. A knife, the blade stuck into the fire, glowing red at the edges.
The hiss of hot metal burned in my ears.
My throat went dry. “You” My voice failed. I forced it out. “You lit this. You waited.”
His laugh echoed against the rafters. “Arjona told me to make it hurt. Told me to ruin that pretty face.” He yanked the knife out of the fire, heat shimmering off it. “Said no man should want you after tonight. Not even Zorak.”
I backed away, chest heaving. “You wouldn’t”
“Wouldn’t I?” He tilted the knife so close I felt the heat from across the space. “I owe you, whore. You embarrassed me at that brothel. Left me with blue balls. Made me a joke. Tonight, I take my payment.”
Fear shot down my spine, sharp as ice. He wasn’t bluffing. He was enjoying this.
Think, Nolie.
I forced my voice steady, even as my knees shook. “I can give you more than she ever could.”
That made him pause. His grin faltered, just enough.
“I’m married to a Padrelli now,” I pushed, quick, desperate.
I backed up, palms sweating. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever she’s paying, I can double it. Triple it. I’m Padrelli now—I can give you more money, more land, more women than she ever could.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, dragging the hot knife along the wood. It hissed, black smoke curling up. “You really think I’d cross Arjona? Only a fool would.” He leaned closer, eyes wild. “I’d rather die than betray her. And before I die, I’ll carve you up nice. Ruin that doll face forever.”
My stomach twisted. Sweat dripped down my back. My legs wanted to run but there was nowhere to go.
He lunged.
I screamed, dodging just as the knife sliced through the air. The heat singed past my cheek. I stumbled into a stack of hay bales, knocking them down in a loud crash.
He laughed again, stalking closer. “Run, little rabbit. Run.”
I backed against the fire barrel, heat licking my legs. His grin widened as he raised the glowing knife. Desperate, I grabbed a fistful of hay and flung it straight into his face. Dry stalks stabbed his eyes and nose. He cursed, clawing at them—just enough for me to surge forward.
I scrambled up, heart in my throat, looking for anything—anything—to fight with. My eyes darted to a broken glass bottle glinting near the stalls.
His boots crunched hay as he raised the knife higher, red-hot and ready.
My back hit the wall. My throat went dry.
“Stay away from me,” I hissed.
He lunged.
I dropped to the side, his arm smashing against the wood where my head had been. The whole wall shuddered. I scrambled across the dirt floor, my knees slipping in hay. My hand hit something—a broken bottle. I snatched it up, brandishing the jagged edge.
“Come closer and I’ll cut you.” My voice shook but I held it high.
He grinned wider, teeth flashing in the firelight. “Good. Fight. It’ll make it sweeter.”
He grabbed the glowing knife from the barrel. Steam hissed as he lifted it, firelight sparking across the red-hot edge. He twirled it once, then stalked toward me slow.
I could feel the heat from where I stood. My chest heaved.
He raised the knife. “Let’s start with your cheek. Right here. Pretty little scream to go with it.”
His laugh filled the barn like rot. He moved like he owned the place, like he’d already carved my face and nailed it to a wall for display.
I grabbed the broken bottle. It was stupid — a shard the size of a thumb — but it was something cold and hard in my hand. I swallowed the shaking and held on.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I said, voice thin. “This—this will ruin you, too. Arjona will burn you if you fail.”
He shrugged. “Let her. I’ll make sure you’re ugly first.” He leaned in, knife poised.
He thought I’d beg. He thought I’d curl and cry.
So I surprised him. I lunged.
Not graceful. Not planned. Just raw panic and the bottle in my fist. I jabbed his hand. Glass cut, warm blood welled on his palm. He roared — an ugly animal sound — and dropped the knife, grabbing his hand, swearing.
For a second, there was a sliver of space. A second to breathe. I pushed past him toward the knife. My fingers closed on the haft. It was hot, but I forced the handle into my palm and yanked.
He swore, shoved me back. We crashed into a stack of feed sacks. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the floor, his knee in my ribs. Every breath burned.
“Stop!” I gasped, trying to shove at his face. “Please—just stop. I’ll give you everything.”
He spat. “You think money buys me? You think a name buys me? You’re a toy, Nolie. They use you, then toss you.”
I punched him in the throat because I had nothing else to trade. He gagged. He loosened his hold. I rolled, scrabbled, kicked, found purchase, and shoved the knife between us, point to his throat.
For a heartbeat he froze, eyes wide, the red heat of the blade reflected in the sweat on his face. Then he laughed again, shaky but furious.
“You’ll bleed first,” he snarled. “We’ll make a mask”
“Stop!” I shouted so loud my voice cracked. The barn seemed to hold it, waiting.
He lunged for the knife. We wrestled, hands everywhere, hay sticking to us. The blade flashed. I felt hot air and the sting of sparks when metal skated over metal.
He pinned me, straddling me with the knife above my face. The heat licked at my skin, so close I could smell it, burning, metal and smoke.
“No” My voice cracked. I twisted, kicked, screamed, but his grip was iron.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, pressing the knife closer. The heat seared the air against my cheek. “It’ll only hurt for a second.”