Cellar 13 Novels & Stories

Chapter: 106 ******* VALE: As my shift began in the casino, I found myself alongside Jake, both of us bustling with orders amid an exceptionally busy night. During a brief lull, Jake turned to me and mentioned that I needed to head down to the cellar to retrieve an aged wine. I nodded, grabbed the keys from their hook, and made my way through the back doors, descending the stairs toward the underground wine cellar.

“The cellar, sir?” “I believe I spoke clearly,” he replied coldly, his dark eyes narrowing. “Go get the wine.” I looked down at the scribbled names on the list, swallowed hard, and nodded. “I... I don’t know where the wine cellar is.” Mr. Red turned around and pointed toward a heavy wooden door at the very end of the back hallway. Beyond it, the corridor melted into darkness. “Go down that hall. Push the door at the end open. That is where I store my inventory.”

Eventually, the concrete gives way to old, red brick, slick with moss. "This leads to the sub-basement. The wine cellars." I stop at a heavy wooden door banded with iron and press my ear against it. No sound from the other side. I try the handle. Locked. Kaleb fishes a pick out of his utility belt and in less than five seconds the door clicks open. The cellar smells like unwashed bodies and fear. Not at all what I’m used to down here. "Movement," Kaleb signals, raising his rifle. We creep forward, weaving through the racks.

The gentle large black curls paired with a natural makeup made her look like a goddess. Her clean white shirt, paired with light blue cropped pants, and a light blue woolen coat, accentuated her divine temperament. The pair of silver strappy heels on her feet highlighted her fair legs and slender ankles. *** On the other side, inside the wine cellar of the three-story Garden Mansion, Stanley, Henry, Sebastian, and Gary were perched in front of a rosewood counter. Each man had a glass of rich red wine in front of them. The wine cellar behind them was about two hundred square meters wide. Various expensive red wines of different years and different brands laid on the premium wine rack made fro

unless you give me the password of your wine cellar in exchange. There were many bottles with quality wine in Nathan's wine cellar, but it came with top notch security where the passcode would change on an hourly basis. To enter the cellar, Rex would need to obtain the latest passcode from Nathan himself. The wine cellar had always been Rex's goal. Not only were there bottles of good quality wine, but there were also those which had been passed down from Old master Clemon. Classic Lafite, French Cheval Blanc, and many others, making it a heaven for Rex.

“It’s been feeding on what Elise left behind. On you. On her. On your mother.” Yvette stared at the new mirror, pulse racing. “Is he in there?” “No,” Tristan said. “He’s beneath it.” --- They found the cellar door just where it had always been, half-rotted and hidden beneath a faded rug. The stairs groaned under their weight, dust rising in choked clouds. The air grew colder with each step. At the bottom, brick. Damp. Molded. And then— The well. Its cover was cracked. The cement seal fractured. Salt lines around it broken.

He chose fire because he lacks the courage to face me. ​I carry Isabella. She grips the suitcase. She is stubborn. She is a Vane. She keeps her leverage even while she chokes. ​I feel a pang of insecurity. Does she want me? Or does she want the man who can save her assets? I push the thought away. ​"The back exit is blocked," Felix reports through the earbud. ​"The wine cellar," Isabella directs. "There is a tunnel." ​We run. The floor is hot through my boots. We reach the cellar. The air smells of oak. Isabella pulls a specific bottle of Bordeaux. The wall swivels.

I said with a grin, gesturing for Chris to head down the steep, narrow steps into the dimly lit brick-walled cellar below. To his credit, he barely blinked at the musty, earthy aroma that always hung thick in the air down here. His nose did wrinkle slightly, though, when his gaze landed on the large open tubs where the grapes were mashed and left to steep, their rich purple juice splashed along the walls and floor. “Cozy,” was all he said, shooting me a sidelong look. “So how does this work exactly?”

he said smoothly, “you could select a wine for dinner. Mr. Avancii prefers red wine with his meals.” Maria glanced at him, relieved for the distraction. “Alright.” Maria followed Collins down a stone staircase, the temperature dropping with each step. The wine cellar was vast, its walls lined with rows of oak shelves, each holding bottles dating back decades. Soft, golden light flickered against the stone, giving the space a vault-like reverence. Maria ran her fingers over the labels, tracing years of history before stopping at one that caught her eye. 1967. She lifted the bottle carefully, feeling the weight of it in her hands.

"Will you show me?" "I will tell you the way. I am too old to be running through tunnels." She pulled a piece of paper from her apron and began sketching a rough map. "Listen carefully. Take the service corridor behind the pantry, third door on the left leads down. Follow the passage until you reach a junction then go right. The left path leads to the old wine cellars and has collapsed but keep going until you smell fresh air. The exit comes out behind a tanner's shop."