Trapped In The Lion's Den

Inés stumbled out of the garden, her mother's words echoing in her head.

*Bad luck. You ruin everything you touch.*

She couldn't breathe. The air was too thick, pressing down on her chest. She needed to get away from Carmen. Away from the mansion. Away from everything.

She walked faster, her vision blurring with tears she refused to let fall.

"Miss Inés?" The security guard at the gate stepped forward. "Are you alright? Do you need..."

"I'm fine," she choked out, pushing past him.

"Miss, you shouldn't leave the property without—"

But she was already through the gate, walking down the tree-lined street where mansion after mansion sat behind iron gates and perfect lawns. Rich people problems hidden behind pretty facades.

Just like her.

She walked without direction, without purpose. Just walking. Trying to outrun the rage and fear clawing at her insides.

Then her phone buzzed. It was a reminder of the visit to the company. She'd forgotten everything.

She looked up, trying to orient herself. Then she saw a strange car. A black sedan with tinted windows parked on the street where no one in this neighborhood parked on the street. Everyone had driveways and garages. This car didn't belong here.

Inés stopped walking as the driver's side door opened. And then everything else happened too fast.

Hands grabbed her from behind. A cloth pressed over her mouth and nose suffocating her. She tried to scream but the sound was muffled. She tried to fight but there were too many strong hands, dragging her backward toward the car.

And then she gave up fighting and surrendered to the dizziness in her head.

♡♡♡

A throbbing ache in her skull that came with every heartbeat woke her up. Her head felt like it had been split open.

She tried to move and realized her hands were tied behind her back. And her eyes covered with rough fabric.

*Where am I? What happened? How long have I been here?*

"She's waking up."

The voice belonged to a man and it was unfamiliar.

"About time," another voice said. "Boss is getting impatient."

Boss. Oh God.

"Take off the blindfold," a third voice commanded. This one she knew. Knew it from nightmares and memories she'd tried to bury. "And untie her. That's no way to treat a princess."

*No no no no*

Rough hands worked at the knot behind her head. The blindfold loosened and fell away. Light stabbed into her eyes. She squeezed them shut, then opened them slowly, letting her vision adjust.

Concrete walls. Bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Two men with guns flanking a metal door. And sitting in a chair directly in front of her, legs spread, cigarette dangling from his lips.

Nacho.

The man who killed her father.

He looked older than the last time she'd seen him. Fresh scars cut across his face, one across his eyebrow, another along his jaw. His knuckles were scraped and bruised. But those cold, calculating, and  hungry eyes were exactly the same.

"There she is," he said, smiling. "My little runaway princess. Welcome home."

Inés burst out laughing. "Home? You knocked me unconscious and dragged me to this shithole and you're calling it home?"

Nacho's smile widened. "You can take the girl out of the trenches, but you can't take the trenches out of the girl. You'll always belong here, mija. No matter how many mansions you live in."

"What time is it?" Her voice came out panicked. "How long was I out for?"

"Few hours." Nacho took a long drag of his cigarette. "It's past noon now. Why? You late for something? Your rich stepbrother waiting for you?"

*Past noon.*

She'd missed Miguel's 9:AM company visit that Santiago had insisted on. Missed everything.

"Shit," she whispered.

"Shit is right." Nacho leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You've been ignoring my messages for two months, Inés. Two whole months. Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

"I wasn't ignoring."

"Don't lie to me!" His voice cracked, and the men by the door straightened. "You moved into that fancy mansion and thought you were untouchable. Thought Nacho couldn't reach you there behind those big iron gates."

"I was trying to get the money."

"Where is it?" He stood abruptly, the chair scraping the concrete floor. He walked toward her slowly, each step deliberate. "Where's my money, Inés?"

She swallowed hard. Her throat felt like sandpaper. "I don't have it."

"What?" He held his ear mockingly. "I can't hear you. Speak up."

"I said I don't have it!" Her voice broke, echoing in the small room. "I lost it, okay? I lost it. But I'll pay you back. I promise. I swear on my father's grave I'll pay you back."

"Your father." Nacho spat on the concrete floor. "Don't you dare talk about that slimy snake. That traitor who stole from me. That thief who got exactly what he deserved."

"He didn't steal from you. My father was never a thief."

"He took my money and lost it!" Nacho's face was inches from hers now. "Two hundred thousand dollars. Gone. And when I asked for it back, he cried like a little bitch and begged for mercy." He smiled coldly. "Just like you're doing now."

Tears burned in Inés's eyes. "I'm not lying to you. I had the money. Eight thousand dollars. But it was stolen from me this morning. I swear..."

"Stolen." Nacho laughed. "How convenient."

"It's the truth! Please, just give me more time. I'll get it. I'll work double shifts. I'll..."

"Where's your mother?" Nacho interrupted. "Where's that bitch Carmen? She's the one who really started all this mess. She should be here answering to me, not you."

"No please leave her out of this."

"Leave her out?" Nacho grabbed Inés's chin, forcing her to look at him. "She married a billionaire, mija. She's living in a fucking mansion with servants and gardens and more money than she could spend in ten lifetimes. And you're telling me she can't pay a simple debt?"

"She doesn't have access to his money."

"Then what good is she?" He released her face roughly. "You know what I think? I think you're covering for her. Playing the martyr. Dancing half-naked at that strip club every night while she plays queen in her castle."

Inés's blood went ice cold. "How do you know about..."

"I know everything about you, mija." Nacho circled her slowly like a predator sizing up it's prey. "I know where you work. I know what you do there. I know what you wear." His eyes dragged over her body, lingering on it possessively.

"Stop," she whispered.

"You've grown up so beautiful." His hand reached out, fingers touching her hair. She flinched but couldn't move away. "Even more beautiful than I imagined all these years. You were pretty at fifteen, but now?" He whistled low. "Now you're a woman."

"Don't touch me."

"You could have been my queen, Inés." His voice dropped lower, intimate in a way that made her skin crawl. "Still could be. I'd give you everything, anything you wanted. Clothes, jewelry, a nice house. You'd never have to dance for strangers again. You'd only dance for me."

She jerked her head away from his hand. "I'd rather die."

His face darkened. "You've got fire. I always loved that about you." He stepped back. "But fire that isn't controlled? Fire that disrespects me? That needs to be put out."

He rolled up his sleeves deliberately, exposing muscled forearms covered in tattoos and scars.

"What are you doing?" Inés tried to stand but her legs were weak, unsteady.

Nacho reached to his belt and pulled out a leather whip.

"No. Please Nacho." The word came out strangled.

"You've stalled for two months." His voice was conversational now. "You don't have this month's payment. You've disrespected me in front of my men. Disrespected my generous offers. You need to learn a lesson about consequences."

"Nacho, please."

"Don't worry." He smiled. "I'll avoid your pretty face. Can't have you going back to that mansion all bruised up where people can see. But your back?..."

He snapped the whip once. The crack echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room. "No one will see that under your clothes."