Cellar 13 Novels & Stories

I eyebrows knitted a bit before she let out a sigh. “I have to take this call. Isabella can you get the wine please? Dad please show her the way.” She stood up before I got the chance to protest, slipping her thumb across the screen of her phone before placing it on her ear and walking away. Then I turned to look at Alexander. “Come with me.” Without as much as another word, I stood up and followed him, my heart beating in my throat. The wine cellar was at the end of a stone corridor, the air cool and damp, the light soft from sconces on the walls. Racks of bottles stretched into shadows, dust thick on the oldest vintages.

I knew exactly what these keys were for. The cellar had once housed crates of fine Bordeaux. Now it was wires and rust and the hum of machines that sounded like they’d learned to breathe in the dark. Leo stepped through the iron-framed door and let it close behind her with a sigh like an old widow. The lock clicked home. Even shadows need privacy. A single light bulb swung overhead, lazy and half-lit, throwing thin slices of illumination across server towers that buzzed like drunk hornets. The floor was flagstone. Cold. Uneven. The kind of surface built for storing regrets—and maybe hiding a few.

“What do you have?” Dario shook his head. “Contessa, Catalina is a wine connoisseur. Surprise her with one of our dry whites.” He looked at me. “The wine cellar is off the kitchen. Since we’re over forty stories in the air, it’s not a true cellar, but the walls are insulated, and the room is temperature controlled.” “It takes a chunk of my square footage away,” Dante said. “And I don’t even have a door from my level.” “Anyway,” Dario said, “you should check it out.”

"We’re going to the cellar. Now. Before the pack wakes up and realizes their Alpha is as lost as they are." We left Marcus guarding the children, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes grim. We moved through the estate like shadows, avoiding the patrols of warriors who were still whispering about the "Silver Doctor" and the "Miracle Boy." The cellar was cold, smelling of old wine and damp earth. I led Killian to the furthest corner, behind the heavy racks of aged Blackwood vintage. I knelt on the floor, clearing away the dust and cobwebs until I found a single, smooth stone that felt colder than the others.

From up here, it looked less like chaos and more like a constellation drawn on earth, each street and building glowing in deliberate patterns. Katherine stepped out onto the concrete terrace, her heels clicking lightly before she stopped at the railing. The night air wrapped around her, warm but edged with a faint, cooling breeze. Behind her, the door swung open again. Sebastian emerged carrying two wine glasses and a dark green bottle cradled in one hand. She turned toward him, brows lifting. “Where did you even get that? We didn’t exactly pass a bar on the way up.” “One of the perks of owning the building,” he said, a trace of smugness in his voice. “There’s a cellar three floors down. Sto

The lock clicked open on its own. Matteo said nothing. We went down. The cellar was long and low-ceilinged, stone walls, wooden racks holding bottles dark with age. The single bulb at the bottom of the stairs gave just enough light to see by. The smell was overwhelming down here, concentrated, coating the inside of my throat. I followed it to the far wall. The foundation stones there were older than the rest of the cellar, rougher, set without the precision of the upper construction. One section near the floor had crumbled partially inward, and in the gap, half-consumed by the old stone around it, was a tablet.

The woman downstairs will be the first to suffer. I swallow the last of my water and allow myself a rare grin. It’s time for my deviant side to reign. I remove the house keys from my pocket and unlock the door to the cellar. It’s an unfinished basement really. Cindy used it for wine and food storage and it’s perfect for my needs. The voice below immediately stops. I flip on the small flashlight attached to the keys and walk downstairs. The small, direct stream of light gives the stairs eerie shadows, which I’m sure add a nice dramatic effect as I descend. The squeaky steps do the same.

The woman downstairs will be the first to suffer. I swallow the last of my water and allow myself a rare grin. It's time for my deviant side to reign. I remove the house keys from my pocket and unlock the door to the cellar. It's an unfinished basement really. Cindy used it for wine and food storage and it's perfect for my needs. The voice below immediately stops. I flip on the small flashlight attached to the keys and walk downstairs. The small, direct stream of light gives the stairs eerie shadows, which I'm sure add a nice dramatic effect as I descend. The squeaky steps do the same.

“Don't worry, I'll get it myself. Thank you.” With the servers preparing to move, I walked through the kitchen, making my way down the narrow stairs toward the underground cellar. The air turned cooler the deeper I went, the dim lighting casted shadows along the stone walls. The cellar was huge, almost intimidating with its endless rows of expensive wine bottles, all of them neatly tucked into their designated spot. I found the two bottles sitting on the top shelf, right where the server said they’d be.

Chapter 4: The Cracks in the Mask Alexia The dim light from the overhead bulb flickered, casting fleeting shadows across the damp walls of my cell. I stared at the steel door, my mind a whirlpool of confusion and despair. Each second dragged into an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe.