C128 Doesn't Like A Wuss

Annabelle’s muscles screamed in protest as she lay sprawled on the padded training mat.

She wasn’t entirely sure how long she had been down there, but her entire body felt like it had been trampled by a herd of elephants.

For a moment, she didn’t even dare sit up for fear that Antonia would come at her again with one of her elegant yet ruthless moves.

Across the room, Antonia stood tall, her dressy blouse and tailored trousers still looking nearly immaculate save for a faint sheen of sweat glistening along her hairline.

She didn’t even seem winded, which made Annabelle want to scream in frustration.

The ridiculous woman had fought in heels and hadn’t even bothered to change out of them.

Her wavy dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that still managed to look perfect, framing her face with an air of unbothered grace.

Annabelle, on the other hand, felt like a soggy mess.

Her own hair had escaped the braid she had tied it into before the session started, now sticking to her damp skin in chaotic strands.

Her sweats were practically plastered to her, and her trembling arms barely managed to prop her up as she glared at the woman who seemed to be taking far too much pleasure in the torment she had inflicted.

“When was the last time you trained?” Antonia asked, her voice deceptively casual as she stepped closer.

Annabelle flushed, guilt blooming as she mumbled, “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” Antonia’s laugh was sharp and mocking. “Busy doing what? Playing house? No wonder your form is pathetic.”

Before Annabelle could defend herself, Antonia launched at her again.

There was no warning. No time to prepare.

And Annabelle found herself slammed against the mat once more with a sharp thud.

She groaned as the air rushed from her lungs, glaring up at the woman standing over her.

Antonia’s smug grin was infuriating. “Your grip is weak,” she chastised, reaching down to haul Annabelle to her feet as though she weighed nothing. “Your stance is all wrong. You’re leaving yourself wide open for an attack.”

“I didn’t…” Annabelle began, but her words were cut off as Antonia’s arm shot forward in a blur, nearly catching her in the stomach.

She barely sidestepped in time.

Then to add insult to injury, her foot caught on the edge of the mat, sending her stumbling awkwardly.

“See?” Antonia smirked, circling her like a predator. “This is why you’re always getting yourself into trouble. You hesitate. No hesitation.”

Annabelle clenched her fists, heat rising to her face.

She was tired, aching, and utterly humiliated, but Antonia didn’t stop.

The woman was relentless, flipping her over her shoulder, jabbing her with precision strikes, and using every opportunity to critique her lack of form.

“You call that a punch? A child could do better.”

“Your footing is a disaster. Are you trying to trip yourself?”

“Dante would be so disappointed if he saw you like this.”

“He doesn’t like a wuss, you know”

The mention of Angelo was the final straw.

Annabelle’s mind raced to Dante, to the fact that neither of them had come home, and a surge of determination filled her.

She wasn’t going to let this woman see her break.

She was tired of being underestimated, pushed around, and treated like an incapable little girl.

She gritted her teeth, focusing all her energy into her next move.

When Antonia lunged at her again, Annabelle sidestepped smoothly.

Then she unexpectedly pivoted on her heel to deliver a swift, precise back-flip kick that landed squarely across Antonia’s face.

The classy woman went flying, landing hard on the mat with a satisfying thump.

“Antonia!” Annabelle exclaimed, rushing forward. Her heart raced with panic as she crouched down. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

She froze mid-sentence as Antonia looked up at her, a flash of something dark and dangerous passing through her eyes.

For a moment, Annabelle thought the woman was going to pounce on her again, this time not holding anything back.

But then, just as quickly as the expression appeared, it was gone.

Antonia smiled graciously, waving her off as though nothing had happened.

“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice smooth. “That is more like it. You’re finally showing some spirit. Let’s go again.”

Annabelle stepped back, shaking her head firmly. “No. I’ve had enough for today.”

Antonia tilted her head, her smile never faltering, though Annabelle thought she saw a flicker of irritation beneath the calm exterior. “Are you sure? You were just starting to get the hang of it.”

“I’m sure,” Annabelle said, standing her ground. “If you haven’t seen what you needed to see by now, I doubt you ever will.”

Antonia’s laugh was light, but Annabelle caught the faint edge to it. “Suit yourself,” she said, brushing herself off as she rose to her feet. “We’ll pick this up another time.”

Without waiting for a response, Annabelle turned and headed for the door.

Her body ached with every step, and she felt the sting of humiliation with each gingerly placed footfall.

She could feel Antonia’s gaze on her back, burning like a brand, but she didn’t turn around.

By the time she reached her room, she was seething.

It felt like every person in this house had some agenda involving her.

Whether it was keeping an eye on her.

Making decisions for her, or using her as a punching bag during “training.”

She collapsed onto her bed with a groan, vowing not to face anyone until she had rested.

She knew she should go wash off the sweats all over her but then she couldn’t bring herself to move at that moment.

Whatever Antonia’s plans were, she’d have to wait.

Annabelle closed her eyes, but the image of Antonia’s face, in that fleeting moment before her smile had smoothed everything over again, lingered in her mind like a shadow.

Why did he ask Antonia to come keep her company? She wondered suddenly.