Shannon kept her gaze low, muscles tense as she swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat.
She pressed her lips into a tight line, exhaled, and glanced over her shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe.
His ankle crossed lazily over the other, arms folded, his posture relaxed but somehow menacing.
“You make a damn fine slave,” he said, his eyes narrowing in appraisal.
“Go away, Niall.” Shannon shoved the pitchfork into the fresh bedding.
“Nah, I’m good here. I like watching you work. You get so hot and bothered... It’s sexy.”
Shannon’s grip tightened on the pitchfork’s handle as she shot another glance over her shoulder, keeping her voice cool. “What do you want, Niall?”
A huff of air shot from his nostrils, his chin lifting in that smug way he always did. “Is that an invitation?”
“No,” she snapped before he could even flash his usual smirk.
His lips curved into a sly grin, and his arms folded tighter across his chest, unfazed.
“I don’t need an invitation. We both know that, Shannon.”
Shannon held her tongue, fighting the urge to call for help because she didn’t want to run to Harry or anyone else.
She was used to handling things on her own, even if it meant swallowing her anger and fear.
Asking for help would mean admitting she couldn’t handle things herself, and that wasn’t something Shannon could stomach.
“Stay the fuck away from me, or I’ll tell Harry you’re harassing his staff.”
Niall scoffed, pushing off the doorframe and strolling into the stable.
“Like that would do any good,” he sneered, his tone dripping with arrogance. “I want to bend you over right now, like I used to. Remember?”
Shannon raised the pitchfork, the jagged prongs aimed at his dick.
“That was in the past. Leave me alone, or I’ll scream.”
Her heart hammered in her chest, and she clenched the pitchfork harder, refusing to give in.
She’d endured Niall for so long now, it had become a horrible mix of wanting to push him away yet knowing that standing up to him would cost her everything.
“Aww, Shannon, you’re such a spoilsport.” Niall chuckled darkly. “We both know a pitchfork wouldn’t stop me if I really wanted to get close, but I’ve got better things to do than fuck you. You know you’re replaceable here, yeah? I could make you disappear, and no one would care.”
He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
The way he winked made her skin prickle, and a wave of nausea rolled in her stomach.
Niall had always been arrogant, but over the pastyear he’d crossed into darker territory, like a bully who’d learned how to smile while he threw punches.
Shannon forced herself to breathe, the heat of her anger building.
“For fuck’s sake, Niall… Go away.”
He stepped forward, backing her into the corner of the stable, blocking her exit.
“You want to keep pretending like you have control?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “You think you can be a bitch without consequences?”
Shannon swallowed hard, her knuckles white from gripping the pitchfork tighter.
