The Cellar Novels & Stories

Rowan gasped in surprise, “Give me-” The Beta ignored him. With one smooth motion, he shoved the key into the lock and twisted. The door groaned loudly before opening with a loud bang. Blade immediately stepped inside. He was expecting to see a cache, or something suspicious. Perhaps even a batch of hidden weapons or a meeting room. But what he saw instead was something entirely different, "A cellar?" he froze, gasping as he looked around the room with confusion in his gaze. It was an old underground cellar filled with hundreds of dusty wine bottles that were arranged neatly inside wooden wine racks.

I give a curt nod of my chin, gesturing for his paws to lead my stride through the maze. The pack mortuary is buried deep in the lowest stone level of the prison bunker to keep the rot away from the living cells. After twisting through three blind turns and passing several iron-reinforced corridors, his keys click open a thick lead door. The moment the seal breaks, a freezing, gloomy stench of old blood and refrigeration chemicals blasts straight into my nostrils. To stop rogue corpses from decaying before the council can extract their memories, the cellar is packed with heavy cooling turbines that hum twenty-four hours a sun.

“This house is too damn big for its own good.” Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding the level of drama I was experiencing. “The pantry’s upstairs. You know that, right?” “Well, it wasn’t stocked with water,” I said. “So I came down here.” He stepped inside the cellar and glanced around, his eyes scanning the bottles. “And now you’re trapped in a cellar. Great.” Adrian sighed, stepping inside. “The water isn’t in here. It’s in the pantry upstairs. This room is for wine, not beverages.”

Whatever happened will be handle the next day. But Fred and Thunder are filling the gold and silver ingots in the underground cellar made by Thunder and his assistant . The cellar as a big as a house is under the horse stables. There are thirty big cats filled with water and thirty beds with mattres cover with a big canvas . There are few cabinets filled with caned foods also few cabinets filled with weapons . Thunder had told him only him Thunder , Fred , their madam , master and eldest young master will known the cellar password . He had made the iron door for the safety measurements .

Then I shrieked, as a hole opened beneath me, sucking all of me down through its sparking mouth and spitting me into the dark cellar beneath, as had happened on the first day that I’d brought Alpha home to the House of Heights. I groaned, rubbing my butt, as I looked at up at the sign: DISCIPLINE CELLAR. Freaking fabulous. I trailed my shadows like fairy lights around the gloom, scrunching my nose at the stench of mold. The cellar’s walls and ceiling gleamed in heights, and I moved my head at the reminder of the cages, muzzles, and punishment implements that mother had kept down here. Okay, not thinking about the why she had, but I wasn’t vanilla enough to nee

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.

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.

“Half of us can’t even walk. Kael’s unconscious. Alina’s hurt. We’d be dead before we reached the street.” “So what do you suggest? We just sit here and wait for them to break down the door?” Kaden didn’t have an answer. He looked at Mother Elara. “Is there another way out? A back door? A tunnel?” “There’s a cellar,” she said. “But it only leads to the old sewers. You’d be crawling through filth in the dark with no idea where you’d come out.” “Better than dying here.” Mother Elara hesitated, then nodded. She moved to a corner of the room and pulled aside a worn rug, revealing a trapdoor. “Help me with this.”

I stood in the middle of the bedroom with his phone on the nightstand and the house quiet around me and felt the specific, familiar quality of the past few months condensing into a single present moment that I did not like. Then I remembered the cellar. It was below the kitchen, accessed through a door that was easy to overlook if you didn’t know the house. I had shown it to Franklin in the first week, briefly, pointing out where it was the way you pointed out things in a house you were sharing. It had old shelving, a television that had been down there since before I could specifically remember, and the particular quality of a below-ground room that felt remo

Nora whispered. She waited until Gebros turned his head to check the window. She slipped toward the back of the room, toward the small, heavy wooden door she had noticed earlier. The cellar. Check the cellar. See what your Alpha is really hiding. Nora grabbed a candle and slipped through the door, her heart hammering in her throat. The stairs were steep and smelled of damp earth and old copper. As she reached the bottom, the candlelight flickered over the stone walls. There were no wine racks. No storage bins.