81
Vittore's POV
I held her in my arms as the light drained from her.
I'd seen death, I'd seen blood and I'd seen chaos but nothing, nothing would compare to what it felt like holding Dalia in my arms, having her confess her love for me only to pass on slowly. I still remember the stench of her blood, the tears in her eyes and the ones that run down from my own.
I looked down at my hands that were still red and they shook. I had to wash them. I had to remove the blood but then I felt like I was removing her from myself. Or the little of her that I had.
"Mr. Jones?"
I looked up at a nurse dressed in blue scrubs. Her hair was silky and dark, not coils like Dalia's. Her skin was pale and smooth, not as dark as Dalia's. Her nose was pointed, not round like Dalia's and she wasn't as tall.