Shadows Of The Vow

Chapter Seven Meet My New Friend In The Dome

Annabelle's POV

I woke up to find that Antonioni wasn't lying beside me anymore.

My eyes scanned the clock, lazily.

The time was 5:19 AM.

I didn't want to wake up to mystery. Who knows what I should expect for the day? So I decided to stay back in bed and probably sleep a little more. At first, I struggled to sleep again, but eventually, I managed to tuck myself back into sleep.

It would be my first twenty four hours (full day) in the dome.

I was stirred back up by the sound of a knock on the door, polite, but firm.

Before I responded, I checked the time. One would never guess the time with the climatic condition of the room, since the room was always, by default, dark. Except for the mercy of the luxury lightings.

The time was 7:08am.

“Yes?” I responded, yawning and rubbing my eyes. A female voice answered, "Good morning, ma’am. I brought tea and coffee. Would you prefer one?"

I hesitated. For a moment, my heart skipped. Antonioni? But no, it was certainly a woman's voice. I opened the door cautiously to find a young chef, perhaps a little older than me. She was dressed neatly in a black-and-white uniform, standing there, and holding a tray.

“Tea or coffee, ma'am?” She repeated respectfully, with a light smile spread across her lips.

“Uh… coffee,” I replied hesitantly.

She handed me a full cup of black coffee, with a smile, and headed back.

I sat on the sofa for a moment, sipping the warm coffee into my cold system. But the lady who had brought me the coffee, something about her gesture got me curious.

Who had sent her? Antonioni?

I got up, changed into a white robe, and followed the hallway toward what I thought would lead to the kitchen.

I wasn’t sure where anything was in this massive house, but I hoped my instincts would help. It was just my second day here.

But the moment I opened the heavy door at the end of the hallway, I froze.

The sound hit me first, booming, pounding, bass-heavy music that shook the floor under my feet. Neon lights sliced through the dimness, painting wild colors across the room.

It wasn’t the kitchen.

It was the same club-like lounge Antonioni had brought me to the previous night. Only now, it was fully alive, feral and vulgar in every sense of the word.

Women in barely-there outfits grinded on men’s laps, smoke spiraled toward the ceiling, and bodies moved like shadows in the neon chaos. Some people were laughing. Some were whispering. Some… were doing worse.

I shrank back a little, not wanting to be seen, but I had already caught some attention.

There was a lady giving a man a lap dance.

They were sitting across the room, and the man had a glass in his hand. Her face wore that wicked look, dark eyes trailing me like I was a prey that walked in on the wrong hunt. She didn’t smile. She didn’t wave. She just stared. Like she wanted me to know I wasn’t welcome.

I looked away quickly, heart pounding, and scanned the room.

And then I saw him.

Santiago.

I didn’t know how I knew his name… until I realized they were speaking loudly enough that pieces of their conversation were slipping past the music. It was Santiago who was talking, gesturing wildly with a cigar between his fingers.

“...told the drivers to cover it. We had to intercept León’s goods before they crossed the dock. If León Fierro finds out it was us…”

I froze.

I believe he was one of León Fierro’s boys. The same name I overheard Antonioni mention over the phone, the previous night. He was talking about some missing goods or shipment. And yet… he was the one who had stolen the shipment?

My breath caught.

They were still talking. Something about moving the stolen containers and the drivers arranging a fake lead to throw León off. I couldn’t hear everything, but I heard enough to understand what I was hearing was deadly.

Then, as if on cue, a tall, lanky guy with unevenly cute hair and heavy cologne stumbled toward me, a drink in one hand and alcohol in his breath.

“Hey, hermosa,” He slurred. “Name’s Ferald. You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

He smiled, teeth stained slightly, eyes drunk with mischief. “Got a body on you. You dance?”

I stepped back instinctively, shaking my head.

He didn’t seem offended. “You got that cold fire. I like that.”

I turned away, trying to get back to the hallway without drawing more attention.

Wait! What? The guy named Santiago had stolen the goods Antonioni and his men are looking for. I couldn't wait to deliver the good news to him. He'd be so relieved.

Eventually, I found a back corner of the lounge with a side door, and through trial and luck, I finally made it to the kitchen, the place I was first going to before I jammed the club.

Standing by the kitchen entrance, I met another scenario I least expected…

A lady who looked more masculine than feminine in features, stood confidently at the corner of the kitchen, commanding and giving out precise instructions to the rest of the chefs.

She too was wearing the black-and-white uniform that the other lady who had brought me the coffee earlier wore. They were all wearing the same uniform.

Her voice covered the whole of the kitchen every time she spoke. “Martina, I said the pastries should be out in fifteen minutes, not twenty-five minutes. The cream has to settle, not drown. And Eliza, no burnt toast on my watch today, okay?”

There was no room for argument. The staff noted swiftly, adjusting their pace to meet up with her commands.

Her natural authority filled the space and she seemed like the kind of woman that has everything under careful control.

I stood at the door and just watched them for a few minutes, unsure if I should enter the kitchen or turn back.

She turned and our eyes met. Her stern expression suddenly softened into a bright smile.

With a soft smile that came as if she had known me for ages, she beckoned on me with her right hand.

“You finally got out of your tower,” She teased.

I laughed lightly. “I wasn't sure I was allowed.”

“Allowed?” She scoffed. “If you wait for permission around here, you'll be invisible. Come. Sit. I had them bring you something warm.”

Oh! She had sent the coffee!

“Figured there's an urgent meeting with the boss at the rooftop lounge, and if that's the case, he probably didn't remember to ask for food to be brought to you.”

Her last sentence sounds just like what Antonioni could do.

“Oh thanks for the coffee,” I said, trying to sound nice. “Actually, I was still sleeping when he left.”

“Oh I see!” The lady exclaimed. “Forgive my manners, my name is Anna. Head of cooks. And the unofficial head of common sense in this house.” She had added, extending her right hand for a shake.

“I'm Annabelle.” I replied, taking her hand into a warm shake and laughing lightly at her joke.

She ushered me into the side of the kitchen that felt quieter and more hidden. She then showed me to a stool, after which she sat on another stool opposite me.

There was a jug of coffee and a covered plate of croissants waiting on the table.

She uncovered the plate of croissants and poured herself a cup of coffee as she spoke. “Nice to have you here, Annabelle.”

Her physique didn't affect her warmness. She was warm, sharp, and surprisingly real. Unlike every other person I had met since the previous day I came.

She glanced around and lowered her voice enough. “I see you're going to be living with us—with the boss now. Since you're new here, you should probably know who you're dealing with so you can stay alive.”

She gave a light chuckle.

“Boss Antonioni D’Angélo,” She began. “He's not just your husband, he’s the mind behind this entire machine. Cold when he wants to be. Protective if you earn it. But if he thinks you're a threat…?” She crossed and drew a line across her neck with her right index finger.

A motion that obviously meant “kill” or “death.”

I swallowed.

“But when he chooses to love, he loves hard…” She added slowly, “...that's what makes him dangerous, and loyal.”

“I have also watched him kill those who disrespected him or betrayed him, like chickens.”

I swallowed hard this time.

She bit a loaf of croissant and sipped her coffee.

Anna. Her words are still soothing and comforting, even though she was saying something neither soothing, nor comforting. Finally, someone to make me feel a little bit at home.

Just then, I was going to say something when the security alarm in the kitchen started beeping loudly. I listened and observed that every corner of the house also beeped the same sound of alarm.

What the hell is happening?

Anna quickly stood up, removed her cooking uniform and apron, revealing the main clothes she wore. A pair of bulletproof suits.

She quickly took a pistol out from her waist, clicked it and rushed out of the kitchen. My goodness

I was very scared and confused about what was happening.

Out of fear, I quickly ran out of the kitchen too and headed for the hallway.

I was barely halfway into the south wing hallway when a strong hand came from behind me and hit me with something that felt like the metallic feel of a rifle.

The hit landed on my left shoulder.

I fell down in pain, strength quickly drifting out of me.

It seemed he brought out a device and pressed a button, which brought the escalating siren's sound from all corners of the house to a stop.

He dragged me up and pulled me back to Antonioni’s room.

“Boss, I caught her running in the hallway,” He had reported.

“Good, let go of her,” Came Antonioni's reply.

I was still in pain from the hit but immediately I stood on my feet, Antonioni slapped me ruthlessly on my right cheek.

I fell down, groaning in pain.

One slap but it almost sent me to the grave.

“So you think you're smart right? Because you didn't see the guard in front of the room, you decided to escape.”

Oh! That was when I recalled I hadn't seen any of the guards who usually stood at the entrance of the room, when I was leaving to the kitchen.

“I wasn't escaping!” I cried, still on the floor and holding my right cheek with both hands.

My shoulder and cheek were blazing hot.

“So what were you doing and where were you!? I stood here, waited for you for more than thirty minutes but you didn't show up!”

My voice came out a little, like I was struggling to breathe. Yes, I was.

“I was in the kitchen… ”

I allowed tears to run down my cheeks, uninterrupted by my hands.

My face felt red and heavy too.

The guard was still standing there, as if waiting to help his boss with the discipline, if need be.

Antonioni was looking at me with raw anger in his eyes. He grabbed me by the neck and dragged me up.

I gasped and choked. Still sobbing hard.

“Bloody liar! A guard was sent to check the kitchen too! What do you take me for?!” He roared, his breath sweeping coldly through my face. “Listen! One more bad report from you and you're dead…”

He was interrupted by Anna's voice. She came in, although not right in time. I had been manhandled like a thief.

“She was with me in the kitchen, boss.”

On hearing that, he slowly released my throat, faced still squeezed with fury.

He stepped back, looking at me as if in doubt of what he just heard from Anna.

I held my throat, still sobbing.

Without saying a word, he motioned them both to leave.

He left me there and walked to his closet, as if to get something.

He came back and threw me a box containing a handset.

I caught it with my hands.

“You don't leave this room if I haven't authorized you to. I got you that so that you'll always let me know anytime you need something that might make you leave the room.”

I was looking down at the handset in my hands. My face was still squeezed from torture and pain.

In that instant, his phone rang.

I could hear the voice of the person from the other end who happened to speak first.

“Boss. This is just a reminder. We leave for Italy in twenty minutes.”

“f**k! I hate Naples.” He screamed, rushing out of the room.

I stood there, motionless, and very much in pain.

I had wanted to mention what I saw earlier in the club to him, but his cold reaction had thrown me off-balance.

The goods they were shipping in for a client named León Fierro were being stolen by Fierro’s own boy, Santiago.