C52 Because Of Cathy

The mansion was too quiet.

Annabelle paced the length of the room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet with each step.

The faint tick of a grandfather clock in the hallway marked the time that seemed to drag endlessly, its monotonous rhythm grating against her frayed nerves.

She had tried to sit still, to focus on Cathy, but her mind refused to settle.

Earlier, she’d cornered one of Dante’s men near the dining room, desperate for information.

“Where is Dante?” she had asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to appear calm.

The man’s expression had been carefully blank. “He’s not here at the moment, ma’am.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Is he... is he hurt?”

“I can’t talk about that, ma’am,” the man replied, his tone polite but firm.

Annabelle’s anxiety spiked at his words, her chest tightening.

She had pressed further, but the man had quickly excused himself, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

“What do they all mean by that they can’t talk about that? It means something is wrong!” Her mind screamed with worry.

Back in the room, the warm glow of the bedside lamp barely pushed back the darkness.

Cathy stirred in her sleep, her small hands clutching the edge of the blanket.

Each time the girl whimpered or shifted, Annabelle was there, wrapping her arms around her sister and murmuring reassurances she wasn’t sure she believed herself.

“You’re safe, Cathy,” she whispered for what felt like the hundredth time, her lips brushing against her sister’s hair. “I promise. Nothing will happen to us.”

But who was she kidding? Without Dante, they were vulnerable.

Annabelle sat back against the headboard, her heart pounding in her chest.

She kept glancing at the window, her eyes searching the darkness for any sign of headlights, her ears straining for the distant hum of an engine.

It wasn’t just worry for her sister’s safety driving her mad.

But that was what she kept telling herself.

That has to be the reason why she was this worked up. Nothing else.

Annabelle’s thoughts spiralled as the night dragged on, adrenaline coursing through her veins even as fatigue weighed heavily on her limbs.

She tried to rationalise her worry, convincing herself it was only about survival.

“If something happens to Dante, his men won’t keep us here. We’ll be thrown out.”

The image of Tad’s cruel smile flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine.

She hugged herself, her nails digging into her arms as she imagined being tossed onto the streets, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.

“I am this worried because of Cathy,” she told herself.

But deep down, she knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

The thought of Dante not coming back made her chest ache in a way she didn’t want to admit.

She hated his arrogance, his coldness, his dangerous world.

And yet, the idea of losing him left her feeling an unexpected dread.

“I hate him,” she muttered under her breath, her voice shaky. “I hate his stupid guns and his stupid rules.”

But as she paced the room like a caged lion, her hands trembling and her throat tight, she couldn’t deny the truth clawing its way to the surface.

Maybe she didn’t hate him.

Not really.

The hours crawled by.

Annabelle checked the alarm clock on the nightstand repeatedly, but the hands seemed to barely move.

The soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows on the walls.

At one point, she’d tried to leave the house, thinking maybe a walk outside would clear her head. But the guard stationed near the door had stopped her.

“It’s safer if you stay inside, ma’am,” he said, his tone respectful but firm.

Annabelle had clenched her fists, swallowing the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue.

Instead, she’d returned to her room, her worry deepening with every passing minute.

By the time the faint light of dawn began to creep through the windows, Annabelle’s nerves were shot.

Her legs ached from pacing, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

At a point, she flung her slippers aside like they were affecting her thoughts.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, willing the knot in her chest to loosen.

“Please,” she whispered into the silence. “Please, God. Bring him back safe.”

The prayer felt foreign on her lips, but she meant it.

The thought of Dante lying injured or worse made her stomach twist painfully.

And then anger flared, hot and sudden.

“How dare he do this to me…to us? He promised to take care of… Cathy.”

She remembered the doctor who had come early, though she didn’t have much luck with Cathy.

Her sister had shrunk away from the kind woman. Still, the doctor had sat in the room with them.

Simply sitting without trying to say anything to Cathy again as she worked on her laptop.

When the woman finally left, Annabelle couldn’t understand how sitting would do anything for her sister, but the woman had told her to trust her.

Annabelle doubted the woman would be so kind or would even come back if something happened to Dante.

He must have called her before going to get himself wounded or maybe killed.

That thought made dread churn in her gut again. The feeling was followed closely by a spiked anger.

She stood abruptly, her fists clenched. “This is his fault,” she muttered. “Turning me into this... this wreck. I don’t even like him. I don’t!”

But the anger couldn’t mask the truth.

She did care.

And it terrified her.

Suddenly, the faint hum of an engine broke the silence, and Annabelle froze.

For a moment, she thought she had imagined it.

But then it grew louder, the sound unmistakable.

She bolted from the room, her heart racing as she tore down the hallway.

The guards at the front door straightened as she approached, their hands hovering near their weapons.

Annabelle didn’t care.

She yanked the door open, the cool morning air rushing over her as she stepped onto the porch.

“Ma’am, wait!” one of the guards called, but she ignored him.

She ran down the steps, her bare feet slapping against the stone driveway.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as her eyes scanned the approaching vehicle.

The sleek pearl-white SUV rolled to a stop, its tyres crunching against the gravel.

The windows were tinted, hiding the occupants from view.

Annabelle’s heart pounded as she waited, the seconds stretching into eternity.

The driver’s door opened, and a figure stepped out.