Chapter FIFTY TWO

　　My toes sink into the scorching black sand, and I groan with the slight pain that's left in its wake with each dreadful step I take.

　　The air smells of saltwater, seagulls fly above me squawking and the drumming of merciless waves breaking against the shoreline fills my ears.

　　It's a perfect scenery for a summer's day. 

　　Only it's not summer, nor is it anything close to a perfect day. 

　　Guilt bites at the edges of my heart.

　　If I had simply kept my mouth shut, the Russian family's princess would still be alive, and I would not be the one dragging her lifeless body along the hot sand that burns my bare feet and soul at the same time.

　　"I suggest you put your back into it and hurry up if you still expect Sandro to be alive by the time we return to the bach," Castello mutters, flicking his zip lighter open and shut as he casts his gaze out towards the ruthless ocean.