MasukAnnabelle’s POVMalta stayed behind me like a held breath I could finally release.By the time the jet touched down and the Marina Park rose into view again, I realized how tightly I had been carrying myself. My shoulders loosened only when I saw the familiar gates, the clean sweep of the grounds, the lights warm and orderly against the coming dusk.Luca was dropped off at his abode in Istanbul, before we headed for Spain.We alighted.On getting inside the Dome, I was glad the home did not collapse while I was gone. That mattered more than I had expected.The house smelled the same when I stepped inside, polished wood, herbs from the kitchen, the faint trace of incense Mama Espe loved. Stability has a scent. I recognized it immediately.Mama Espe met me halfway down the hall, her head warmer worn neatly, h
Antonioni’s POVThe cell door closed with a sound that did not echo.That was what unsettled me.In Fort San Vittorio Detention Complex, echoes were constant…metal against metal, boots against concrete, the low hum of surveillance breathing through the walls. But this time, when they returned me from court, the sound ended. As though the world had decided I was not worth the reverberation.I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, my wrists still warm from the cuffs, my shoulders carrying the weight of eyes that were no longer on me. Courtrooms were loud with judgment, even in silence. Cells were honest. They made no promises.I sat.And then, inevitably, I thought of her.Annabelle.Not as she had been led into the courtroom. Not as the composed woman who sat like a force of order in chaos. But as she had looked the last second, our eyes held steady, unafraid, and present.That look st
Annabelle’s POVI woke before the sun, the faint gray of dawn slipping through the half-opened room's windows. The room was quiet, almost reverent, the kind of silence that demanded attention. I rose quickly, pulling on a simple jacket and sneakers, my mind already racing through the tasks ahead.I slid through the Dome. Most workers were still sleeping. A handful of them were awake too.Before leaving, I needed to make sure the Dome would hold together in my absence. I moved from room to room, organizing, assigning tasks, and setting rules that would keep the house running smoothly. The maids had their instructions: meals, cleaning schedules, rounds in the garden. I double-checked the inventory, made notes for essential supplies, and ensured that everyone understood their responsibilities.Mama Espe received supervision duties. Her calm presence could manage both staff and residents. Mr. Martinez, overseeing the technical and security systems of the Dome, had a clear mandate: report
Antonioni’s POVThe courtroom's air conditioner was rather too cold, but not the kind of the sterile chill of Fort San Vittorio's detention cell. This one was the cold of inevitability.I didn’t expect her to be here for this first hearing. Not in this hall, not at the heart of this storm. But then I saw her. Annabelle. She was sitting near the front, calm but alert, her eyes scanning the room with quiet authority. Relief struck me like a pulse in my chest. She looked… whole. Her presence steadied me in ways no strategy, no lawyer, no dossier could. She was my heartbeat here, my tether to everything I was trying to protect.Bukky, Luca, Diego, Matteo, and Milo were all seated side-by-side, with her in the middle. Surrounded. Protected.My chest loosened just slightly, a warmth where cold should have reigned. Seeing her there, alive, unbroken, determined, made the weight of consequence feel… manageable.Petra Almassi sat across the room, her posture perfect, her gaze sharp, her lawye
Annabelle’s POVI walked quietly down the corridor toward Patty Mama’s room, each step measured as though the walls themselves were listening. The Dome was quieter than usual, a tense, fragile quiet, as if something had shifted and was waiting for reassurance.Patty Mama was lying on her bed, shoulders trembling, eyes red from hours of crying. Mama Espe sat beside her, hands folded, watching her with that calm authority only elders carried, the kind that made you feel even chaos had rules.I sat beside Patty Mama, placing my hand over hers. “She’s scared,” I whispered to Mama Espe, but it came as though it was to myself, or though it was to both of us. “But she’ll be okay.”“He’ll be back soon,” I said gently, as if speaking the words out loud might anchor them into reality. “Antonioni will be back. I know it. The letter… he promised. He always keeps his word.”Mama Espe nodded slowly, her eyes meeting mine. “I see him too,” she said softly. “He is not a bad man. He is a good man. He
Antonioni’s POVThe room was colder than I expected. Not the sterile chill of the detention cell, nor the calculated temperature of stone and steel. It was colder than usual. It penetrated into my bones before it even reached my head like a consequence.By the way, as someone who knows my rights, I’d made it clear that I couldn't be detailed for more than 48 hours, and it was granted to me.Other fellow detainees were pointing fingers at me across their cells and whispering things to each other. They know me…I was the only one alone in my cell. Alone, yes, but not powerless. Not yet.Petra Almassi stood across from me, heels clicking against the floor. She carried folders stacked neatly in her arms. No flourish, no dramatics. She didn’t need any. Every step she took screamed purpose. A predator walking in daylight, calm, unyielding.“Mr. D’Angélo,” she said softly, almost politely, and yet I felt the accusation like steel pressing against my chest. “I thought you might want to see wh







