Nico
The spot on the right side was perfectly made, as if he had never lain there at all. My heart gave a sharp, uncomfortable twist. I had barely slept, replaying every second of last night in my head like a bad qualifying lap I could not stop analyzing.
A firm knock sounded on the door again, and when I opened it, it was a different attendant—the one who had handed me the first aid kit last night.
"Good morning, sir. Your clothes are ready," he said, gesturing inside the room.
"Where is Alaric?" I asked immediately. "The man who was sharing the room with me."
The attendant nodded without hesitation. "Mr. de Villier got ready early this morning and has already met with Mr. Richard in the lobby. He asked me to prepare your clothes and leave them for you." He pointed toward the bed, where a neatly folded stack of my clothes—freshly cleaned, pressed, and dry—lay waiting. "Everything has been laundered and dried overnight as promised."
