C96 Screw Him

Annabelle ended the call with trembling hands and the phone slipping slightly as her grip faltered.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

The rhythmic pounding of her heart was almost deafening in the quiet room.

A chill ran down her spine, and for a fleeting moment, she could almost see Dante’s face.

His jaw clenched.

His dark eyes blazing.

And his imposing frame coiled with fury.

She swallowed hard as she brushed her damp palms against the worn fabric of her jeans.

“What have I just done?” she thought with a tremulous breath.

She couldn’t remember ever being that brazen in her life.

She had spoken of herself as if she was a commodity.

To a man like Dante.

“Oh, God. What has come over me?”

The answer came quickly, firm and resolute: she’d spoken the truth.

The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through her veins.

Dante hadn’t said the words outright.

But his actions and calculated moves spoke volumes.

He wanted her in his life on his terms, with no space for negotiation.

If he thought she would let herself be swept under his thumb.

Reduced to a mere accessory in his world.

Then he didn’t know her at all.

“It’s like you don’t know yourself anymore either,” her subconsciousness taunted.

Annabelle ignored the pesky voice and straightened.

Her bare feet pressed into the cool wooden floor as she paced the small, sunlit kitchen.

The rays of early morning filtered through the new window blinds, casting a soft golden hue over the space.

It was a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her.

The smell of old wood and faint lavender drifted through the air.

The familiarity of it grounded her for a moment, but the tension in her shoulders remained.

Her fingers twitched to redial the number.

To say something, anything to smooth over the jagged edges of their conversation.

But she pushed the thought aside.

She’d said what needed to be said.

If Dante couldn’t handle her bluntness, that was his problem.

She decided to take her mind off issues that could affect her mind further that day.

Breakfast had to be made, whether her nerves were in shambles or not.

Annabelle moved to the counter as she brushed her long, loose waves over one shoulder to keep them out of the way.

The strands gleamed a rich chestnut in the sunlight.

She wanted something simple and light after all those meals the neighbour had come in with the day before.

She rummaged through the supplies one of their neighbours had kindly dropped.

A few eggs, a loaf of bread, and a handful of fresh herbs.

“That would do,” she thought to herself as she set to work.

The knife clattered against the cutting board as she chopped parsley.

The repetitive motion calmed her frayed nerves.

Her focus shifted to Cathy, who was still curled up in bed, oblivious to the storm raging inside her sister.

Annabelle smiled faintly as she remembered how well Cathy had taken what she heard earlier.

“Maybe not so well. I can’t know yet, can I?” Annabelle thought with a sudden feeling of unease as she remembered how her sister had clammed up after her kidnap.

She hoped Cathy would never get to that stage again.

“Please, God,” she whispered in unconscious prayer.

Cathy deserved normalcy.

She deserved peace and everything Annabelle had been denied for so long.

Once the eggs sizzled in the pan, the savoury aroma filling the kitchen, she called out, “Breakfast’s ready!”

Her voice carried through the house.

Cathy’s footsteps padded down the hallway moments later.

“That smells good, Anna. I already brushed.” Cathy mumbled before sitting down.

Annabelle looked for any trace that Anna was probably still worried about what she had said earlier.

But since she couldn’t find any obvious signs, she decided not to borrow trouble.

“That’s great. Dig in,” Annabelle said with a smile.

Then she set a plate in front of her, taking a seat across from her.

For a few minutes, the world outside faded.

And it was just the two of them, sharing a simple meal and the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

Annabelle didn’t bother calling her mother a second time when the first call went unanswered.

If she wanted to stew in her own bitterness, so be it.

Annabelle wasn’t going to play peacemaker anymore.

Not for anyone.

Thankfully, Cathy didn’t ask too.

After breakfast, Annabelle stepped outside, squinting against the glare of the sun.

The crisp air was a mix of autumn’s chill and the lingering warmth of summer as it carried the earthy scent of damp leaves and distant rain.

Two of Dante’s men were stationed outside at the moment, and they lounged casually near the porch.

Their presence was both a comfort and an annoyance.

“Good morning,” she greeted them, crossing her arms against the breeze.

Her tone was neutral, though she couldn’t help the slight edge of curiosity in her gaze.

“Morning, Miss Whitaker,” the taller one replied, his voice deep but polite.

His companion merely nodded to her in greeting.

“I made breakfast,” Annabelle offered. “There’s plenty if you want to come in.”

The first one shook his head, “Appreciate it, Miss, but we’ve already eaten.”

Her brow furrowed. “When? How?”

The taller man shrugged. “We have our arrangements.”

The vague response grated on her nerves, but she bit her tongue.

These men were here to protect her and Cathy, not to tell her how they made their arrangements, like switching the men on guard without her knowing when or how.

Still, the thought nagged at her.

They’ve been here for days now.

How did they always look so composed, so clean, so... untouchable?

She supposed they must resent her for being in a laidback environment like Stoneraine looking after her when they could be having a fine time in Acadia doing what they were originally trained for.

She hesitated, then asked, “Has Dante reached out to you this morning?”

Both men exchanged a look, their expressions unreadable.

Then one of them finally said, “Forgive us, but we can’t answer that, miss.”

Annabelle let out a short laugh, the sound dry and humourless. “Of course.”

They returned to their casual stance, effectively dismissing her.

Annabelle’s jaw tightened as she turned back toward the house.

He would get to her when he was damned ready.

And in the meantime, she wouldn’t stand around expecting a message from like a dog panting for scraps.

The rest of the morning passed in relative calm, though the weight of the earlier conversation lingered.

Annabelle kept herself busy, tidying up the small house and distracting Cathy with puzzles and stories.

The girl’s laughter was a balm to Annabelle’s frayed nerves, a reminder of why she was fighting so hard.

Mauve didn’t leave her room and even though the breakfast Annabelle had set out for her lay untouched in the kitchen, Annabelle didn’t try to make her eat.

“She is an adult who knows to eat to take her medication. She would come out when she damn feels like it.” she thought, as her sullen mood increased by the minute.

Yet, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the present, her thoughts kept drifting back to Dante.

By mid-afternoon, Annabelle stood by the kitchen sink, staring out the window at the expanse of freshly-grown garden.

She could see the men still stationed outside, their figures half-obscured by the shadows of the house.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

She wasn’t naive. Dante would make his move when he was ready.

He always did.

But this time, she wouldn’t let him dictate every aspect of her life.

Her jaw set with determination, the spark of defiance in her eyes mirrored by the afternoon sun.

For the moment, she would let the world spin as it would.

Cathy’s laughter echoed from the living room, a bright, fleeting sound that brought a small smile to Annabelle’s lips.

She had just told Annabelle something that she had absentmindedly replied to.

She couldn’t even remember what the girl had said.

She tossed the dishcloth in her hand on the counter.

“I won’t stand here losing my mind just because I am waiting for his almighty decision,” she thought.

She would fight.

Stand her ground.

And protect what mattered most.

No matter what Dante or anyone else thought.

And she had the right to a perfectly normal day while she was at it.

Screw him and anyone who says no to that.