AYRA’S POV
The nightmare wouldn't stop replaying.
I kept seeing Matteo’s face and the way his body crumpled like a puppet with blood spreading across the marble in a crimson pool that seemed to grow and grow until it swallowed everything.
And Giovannieyes, they were dead and cold, staring at me like I was something to be scraped off his shoe.
“His blood is on your hands.” He snapped.
I woke with a gasp, my body jerking upright. For one blessed moment, I thought it had all been a horrible, twisted dream.
Then I saw the locked door and the photographs of Marco and me scattered across the floor where I collapsed last night.
All of it was real.
My entire body ached. I fell asleep on the floor and now every muscle screamed in protest as I tried to move.
My throat was raw from screami
