Isabella Martini - POV
"How was your night, ma'am?" the man we met in the reception last night asked us as we walked downstairs, ready to leave this godforsaken place.
"Do you want the truth?" I asked him, and he nodded his head with a smile on his face, which showed off his rotten front teeth.
"Horrible, next time make sure you get the bathrooms cleaned properly," I told him as I walked out of there while Arlo settled the checkout. The weather was cold outside as I rubbed my arms. My mind was clouded with the pictures Arlo showed me a few hours ago, and I felt like that image was burned into my memory, and I knew that I would never be able to erase it.
"Bella, are you alright?" I felt Arlo's warm hand on my shoulder, making me look at him with a forced smile on my face.
