C59 Whatever It Takes

Annabelle hadn’t slept all night.

She had spent hours lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts churned like a stormy sea.

By the time the faint light of dawn crept through the curtains, she was on her feet, and her plan firmed in her mind.

She glanced at Cathy, still curled under the covers, her face finally free of the tension that had haunted her even in sleep.

The faint pink of the rising sun filtered through the window, casting her sister in soft hues.

Annabelle whispered to herself, a quiet vow: “I’ll give you your liveliness back, Cathy. Whatever it takes.”

Even if that included facing the woman who had refused to protect them from her monster, Annabelle was ready.

Her sister would see their mother again. Annabelle would find a way to convince their mother to let Cathy return to Acadia with her.

Tad’s reign of terror over their lives had to end.

She wouldn’t let him separate her from Cathy again.

But to make that happen, Annabelle couldn't deny that she needed help.

Only one person could give her the kind of help she needed now.

Dante.

She had made her decision about something else too.

She had decided that there would be no more hesitation on that end.

To be fully capable, she needed to know all she should know.

Annabelle dressed in her training gear of black leggings, a snug grey tank top, and her hair pulled back into a high ponytail that swung as she walked.

Her boots echoed faintly against the hardwood floor as she stepped into the hallway, her heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety.

She suddenly remembered what had happened the last time she faced him.

The mansion was already alive with activity.

She passed a few of Dante’s men, their quiet nods a testament to their respect and recognition.

She asked one of them about Dante, her pulse quickening when she realised he wasn’t home.

“Angelo’s around,” the guard informed her.

Annabelle hesitated for a moment, then nodded. It wasn’t Dante, but Angelo was a good start.

She intended to go to him after talking to Dante anyway.

She asked where he was and was directed to the training room.

“Just perfect,” she thought.

The training room was alive with sharp voices and the thud of boots against mats. Angelo stood near the centre, his arms crossed as he listened to two men discuss strategy.

Annabelle paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.

Angelo, dressed in his usual dark attire, exuded calm authority. His sharp eyes flicked to her the moment she stepped inside.

“Miss Whitaker,” he greeted, his tone even as always.

He dismissed the men with a simple nod, and they quickly filed out of the room.

“Please just call me Annabelle,” she said as she approached him.

She would soon do something about that damn name.

Not that there was anything to be proud of in the name of a man who abandoned his family too, though.

Maybe she should just take up a new name. The thought popped into her mind randomly.

Angelo nodded and gave her a levelling look.

“I learnt that he is not around,”

“You learnt right,” Angelo answered without elaboration.

“I’m ready to train,” Annabelle said simply, without showing her anxiety.

“Are you?” Angelo raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “After hiding in your room for days?”

She bit her lip, looking away briefly. “I wasn’t hiding.”

Angelo’s silence was heavy with disbelief.

Annabelle squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze. “I’m ready to learn how to shoot.”

That got his attention.

His brows furrowed slightly, his arms uncrossing. “Shooting now, huh? Just when you suddenly develop interest in the boss's movements too, huh?"

Annabelle's eyes widened as she realised what he was implying.

Her mind conjured an absurd image of her aiming a gun at Dante, and she quickly shook her head. “It’s not like that,” she said anxiously. “I... I just need help with something.”

Angelo’s lips twitched, though whether in amusement or exasperation, she couldn’t tell. “Good to know,” he said dryly. “You wouldn’t even get close anyway. You don't look suicidal to me.”

Annabelle frowned, unsure if she should feel relieved or offended.

“Out with it,” Angelo said, motioning for her to speak. “Might as well tell me so we can get to training. You need a clear head if you don’t want to shoot off your thumb.”

Annabelle grimaced at the imagery, her resolve wavering. She hesitated momentarily, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tank top.

“I need Dante’s help,” she finally admitted.

Angelo’s expression didn’t change, but his sharp eyes studied her closely. “Help with what?”

Annabelle swallowed hard. “I need to go back to Stoneraine... to see my mother. Cathy wants to see her, and... and I think I can convince her to let Cathy stay with me in Acadia. But...”

“But your stepfather is there,” Angelo finished for her.

Annabelle nodded, her throat tight.

Angelo was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “And you think he will help you with this?”

“Yes,” Annabelle said, her voice firmer than she felt. “I don’t know how else to keep Tad away long enough to talk to my mother. Dante... he can make it happen.”

“You’re not wrong,” Angelo said, his tone neutral. “But you’re asking for a lot. Sane advice? Don't ask.”

Annabelle looked away, her cheeks burning.

She thought about Dante’s heated words, his warning to stay away from other men, and his casual admission of wanting her.

The thought of what it might cost her to ask him for this favour made her stomach twist.

“I don’t have a choice,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Angelo studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. “Let’s start training. We’ll worry about the boss later.”

Annabelle blinked, surprised by his lack of argument. “You’ll help me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Angelo replied with a faint smirk. “I said let’s train. If you’re serious about protecting your sister, you’ll need to know how to handle a gun.”

Annabelle nodded, determination hardening her resolve.

Angelo walked her through the basics, his instructions clear and concise.

She struggled at first, the weight of the gun unfamiliar in her hands.

But Angelo was patient, guiding her through each step with a steady demeanour.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said as she aimed at the target. “Your instincts are better than you think.”

Annabelle exhaled slowly, her focus narrowing as she pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, and the bullet hit just shy of the bullseye.

“Not bad,” Angelo said with a nod. “But you can do better.”

Annabelle’s lips twitched into a small smile.

For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of hope.

After an hour of training, Annabelle set the gun down, her arms sore but her determination unwavering.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice sincere.

Angelo nodded, his expression unreadable. “If you’re serious about this plan, you’ll need more than my help.”

Annabelle’s stomach tightened. She knew what he meant.

“I’ll talk to Dante,” she said quietly.

Angelo raised a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Good luck with that. Someone will let you know once he is available.”

Annabelle swallowed hard, her resolve strengthening.

She didn’t know how Dante would react, but one thing was clear.

She couldn’t afford to back down now.