ConfessionThe thick Tuscan air was dry and hot in the stillness of the starless night. In the post meridian hours, when all were asleep, there was one soul that was awake. He paced around his small hotel room like a restless tiger in a cage. His thoughts raced, his heartbeat untamed, and his blood pounding within his veins. Thorne cursed the bitter irony of fate. For so long had he sworn to seek the white beast--the beast that took everything he held dear. In that one night five years ago, his life was destroyed, his world shattered. He hated himself because of it. In many ways, he was just as guilty as the white beast itself for taking Sarah's life.