Doomed

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 screaming and my eyes felt swollen and gritty from crying. How long had I been in here? I had no idea. The sound of a key turning in the lock made me scramble backward, my heart hammering. The door opened, and Claire