The dim lights cast long shadows in the room, and the sight before him was both surprising and unsettling. Cutting the ropes to escape had been a stroke of luck, but stumbling into this place felt like the gods were on his side.
Matthew's secret room.
Not very secret, Rafael thought, but undeniably dangerous. His eyes scanned the room—his own picture lined the blood-red walls, larger than the others, but there were more faces beside his.
He stepped closer, drawn to the array of photos. His fingers lightly traced Marco's picture, placed right beside his, a red mark slashed across it, and another in green.
"What do these marks mean? Is red... death?" Rafael pondered, his brow furrowing in thought as he examined the pictures.
Nearly everyone he knew was there, and it unsettled him. Mateo's picture caught his eye—lined with the same ominous red marks.
