CHAPTER 43

I awoke to the sound of running water and the smell of freshly-baked bread.

On the floor, next to the bed, there was a white carrier bag with EATALY printed on the side, and poking out of the top, was a generously-sized olive-topped focaccia that smelled like Heaven, or at least, my idea of it. My stomach, clearly feeling neglected, grumbled angrily. I hadn't eaten a thing since the pastries Ethan had given to me before our trip to the Basilica and I was struck then by the realisation that I had no bloody idea at all how much time had passed since.

So much had happened. Our journey through the wormholes. Getting inside the Vatican. St. Peter's Tomb. The Vaults. Here. Ethan. Me. Us.

It felt like we'd lost hours in this room, wrapped up in each other, attempting to satiate a hunger that never seem to dissipate no matter how much we fed it. If anything, the hunger just seemed to grow, all vulnerabilities and all fears cast aside until it became something wild and untamea