Domenico

Their new room was a dump. No. It was a drug den, only without the used syringes cluttering the floor. But Domenico was too tired to complain, and rolled onto the mattress once Seth helped him to bed. The stench of mold penetrated his nose, prompting him to sit up and look around for a can of air freshener to cover up the dull stench, but he wasn’t likely to find one here. Even so late at night it was far too hot, and that transformed the old house into a slow cooker filled with sweaty bodies.