Had Alessandro known what he would wake up to, he would've forced his eyes open the entire night.

The dream turned toxic soon, ghosts of long buried memories rising from their graves, howling in his dreams. Whispers whisked around him like wild winds, but he couldn't make out what they said. Only one voice was as penetrant as nails scratching over chalkboard. It was always the same one. It always hissed the same word. Over and over and over ... That's how Alessandro knew he was dreaming: the voice had long gone silent in the real world.

The scenery changed, wafting and reshaping like fog around him. He was back in prison. On the stairs. Giacinto was there, a black silhouette against the torchlight. Knives drawn to cut down the guards that came rushing down. There were no guards.

Alessandro jogged up to him. "We need to -"

Giacinto smiled, putting a hand on Alessandro's shoulder. Then he suddenly pulled him close. He plunged a knife into Alessandro's stomach.

Screaming hot pain pierced Alessandro's body, ripping apart his mind. He jerked, struggling, but the hand on his shoulder kept him there.

Giacinto lips twisted into a devilish grin. He twisted the blade. Bowels and blood squelched, copper filling the air.

Alessandro looked down, blood warming his skin. Then he was falling, shoved down the stairs, eyes wide --

Alessandro shot up, hands flying to his stomach. When he looked down, they were as clean as his crisp white shirt. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck, cool on his hot skin, sending chills down his spine. Cool? He spun around.

The shutters were open, flapping in the wind. The sky was dusted pink above the roofs outside, a blush spreading over the narrow line of light blue that turned dark and deep high up. The sun had just begun to rise. Alessandro groaned. How had the window opened? He had closed it himself.

Then he turned and wished he hadn't.

Giacinto stood at the foot of the bed. He wasn't smiling eerily like in his dream. There was a knife in his hand. Little rubies rolled down the blade, dripping slowly from its tip.

Every muscle in Alessandro tensed. He could feel his insides turn to stone. He didn't feel the breeze wafting through the room. Didn't hear the rain on the roof that had died down to a steady pitter patter. His gaze slowly lowered.

To Giacinto's feet lay a man. The stranger's stomach was bloody, hands pressed tightly against it to stop the blood. His eyes were closed. He didn't move.

The Greek turned his head. "Good morning, Giant. Slept well?" He tilted his head slightly, keeping an eye on the motionless body beneath him. "You must have, didn't wake up at all."

Alessandro twisted slowly, catching a glimpse of Laelia on the bed. She was still asleep. Or worse ... His hand slowly crept to the side, feeling for his sword. Eyes still trained on Giacinto, fingers brushed behind a pillow, rough linen scratching his skin before cool metal kissed his finger tips.

Deep down he knew he was no match for the Greek. He wouldn't last a minute. Keep him occupied. He opened his mouth to talk.

Giacinto beat him to it. "No need to get your panties in a twist. Not gonna kill you." Then he looked down again at the man on the floor. "Him however..."

Only then did Alessandro notice the shallow breaths the man took, quick and hectic like a trapped rabbit.

"I'm not a murderer," Giacinto sounded exasperated. As if somehow Alessandro had wronged him. His mouth pulled into a slight frown. "He tried to kill us. Would've succeeded if I slept as sound as you two babies."

Closing his eyes, Alessandro steadied his breath. When he opened them again, he scanned the room. Gather information. A knife on the floor, a few feet from the stranger. No blood on it. His eyes narrowed. Evaluate information. The man's stomach had never been stabbed. It was his right hand that bled onto his shirt, the other one clutching it to stop the blood flow making it look as if they were pressed against a fatal wound. Make a decision.

Alessandro inhaled slowly. His hand came up to rub the sleep from his eyes before he cautiously stood up.

Giacinto tensed slightly.

Alessandro raised his eyes from the body on the floor. "You've always helped me, as annoying as you might be. You've saved my life. Twice." His voice was still rough from sleep. He felt lightheaded, while the knot in his stomach pulled him down. When he continued, his words were slow. "I want to trust you. Am I making a mistake?"

Giacinto watched him for a moment. "Three times now."

Alessandro nodded. "Good."

The Greek crouched down to the intruder, yanking him up by the collar. Dragging him across the room, he slammed a man half a head taller than him into a chair effortlessly. Placing his knife on a drawer, he turned back to Alessandro. "Another assassin."

The blond stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the open shutters, the knife close to Giacinto's side of the bed, the saddle bags that had been shoved over when someone stumbled backwards, the splatter of blood on the wall.

Alessandro closed his eyes. The man had come in, having climbed the wall of the inn and opened the shutters from the outside, quietly, a professional. There was only a tiny scratch where a knife had been used to push aside the bolt that had closed the shutters. Not quiet enough. Giacinto's sheets where almost undisturbed, as if he had casually drawn them aside like a normal person getting up in the morning. Not that Giacinto was normal in any way.

"What does the commissario guess?" Giacinto grinned from his spot behind the man, tying his hands behind the chair. The stranger was unconscious, head lolling against his chest.

"Guessing means there's a chance I'm wrong."

"Whatever." Giacinto shrugged.

"He came in through the window-"

"Masterful deduction. Very impressive."

Alessandro sighed. Really? His eyes flitted over the scene once more, fitting the last pieces into his puzzle. The man was a professional. Giacinto still heard him. He pretended to be asleep and let him come closer. When the intruder tried to stab him, he knocked the knife from his hand. The other stumbled backwards, reached for another knife. Before he could draw it Giacinto threw his knife -- Alessandro glanced down: one of the smaller knives strapped to his ankle. The knife pierced his hand. A pierced hand is useless, the assassin was unable to fight back. Giacinto got up and knocked him out. That's when he woke up.

"You're not bad," Giacinto whistled, "for someone who just woke up."

Alessandro blinked. Had he said that out loud? Before he could reply, sheets rustled behind them. Someone yawned. The bed creaked.

Giacinto dove forwards without hesitation. Lunging across the bed, his hand slapped over Laelia's mouth the moment she opened it to scream.

How does he move that fast?

"Morning," Giacinto winked down at Laelia. He was still holding her down, as if not trusting her to stay put. He was probably right. Alessandro felt a slight smile tug at his lips. As if Laelia would ever stay put.

Her eyes rolled wildly, shooting over to the tied up man.

"I can explain?" Giacinto grinned awkwardly. "Ow!" He recoiled, hand clenching in a fist. "You bit me!"

Laelia immediately shot up. "What is happening?"

Rubbing his palm, Giacinto filled her in.

Laelia stared at her hands, fumbling with her blanket. "Sorry about you hand," she muttered.

Giacinto waved it off. "Had worse."

For a second, Laelia looked as if she wanted to ask about that. Alessandro did. Then her gaze fell onto the would-be assassin. "I can't believe we didn't wake up! Stupid me! I'll be more careful next time!"

"Just stay with me," Giacinto muttered, wiping the blood off his knife.

The prisoner moved. The other two didn't notice -- Giacinto pointedly focused on his blade, Laelia was getting out of bed.

The man gasped awake.

Giacinto looked up slowly, putting away his knife. His eyes narrowed. A slow smile spread on his lips.

The assassins eyes raced around the room in confusion, narrowing at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he startled again, finding his hands tied behind his back. He pulled. Nothing. The rope only dug deeper into his wrists.

Still, Alessandro's hand closed around the hilt of his sword. Always be prepared...

"You've got two choices," Giacinto casually leant against one of the drawers against the wall, spinning a long dagger in his hand as he watched their 'prisoner'.

"Either you talk," the Greek pushed himself off the drawer, slowly saunterin towards the stranger, "or," he leant down, one hand on the back rest of the chair the man had been tied to, face inches from the other's. Suddenly, the dagger came down, rammed into the wooden seat. The blade stuck a hair's span from the assassin's thigh. Giacinto's lips stretched into a satisfied smirk, curling upwards to reveal gleaming canines when the man jumped in shock, eyes going wide. His voice lowered to a whisper. "You scream."

He wouldn't ...! One glance at the dark smile and determined line of his jaw told Alessandro he would. Alessandro had awoken from one nightmare only to be plunged into another. He knew he couldn't let Giacinto torture that man. And he knew he couldn't stop him.

Alessandro cast a glance at Laelia. She watched with crossed arms and a tight frown. They looked at each other, worry clouding Laelia's eyes while disapproval scorched Alessandro's gaze.

"What's your name?" Giacinto twirled his dagger, more absentmindedly than a threat.

"Pie-," the man gulped, staring at the glinting blade, "Piero."

"Piero," Giacinto repeated, "Piero, why did you come here?"

"To-," Piero shifted in his chair, "to-,"he nervously flexed his fingers. He licked his lips. "To kill you."

"That's not very nice," Giacinto tossed his dagger up, eyes remaining fixed on on the squirming man. The blade spun gracefully in the morning sun, glinting fresh and cool silver before the Greek caught it casually. He didn't even have to look at it. "You're not the first. Wanna know where the other is?"

Piero shook his head.

"Too bad, I'm still telling you. Thought it would be polite to ask," Giacinto grinned, "He's floating in a stinking canal somewhere in Venice for the rats to gnaw at."

The man started trembling, pressing into the chair as if he somehow could get away from that terrifying tiny man.

"How?" Laelia's voice was quiet. "How were you supposed to kill us?"

Piero kept silent, staring at his boots.

"Answer her," Giacinto said, examining his blade. It flashed hungrily.

Piero's fists clenched behind his back. "Stab the small one. Slit the tall one's wrists and place the knife in his hands."

Alessandro's eyes narrowed. He hadn't mentioned Laelia...

"Suicide to escape the horrible shame to have been accused of treason," Giacinto tilted his head, "very creative, I give you guys that." He was silent for a moment, thinking. "But didn't you forget someone?"

"The girl should stay alive."

Why would they want her to live? They didn't seem like the type to demand ransom -- and they would've gotten just as much for Alessandro. An emotional value? Alessandro pursed his lips.

"Who sent you?" Giacinto asked.

Piero stayed silent.

"I asked you something." Giacinto's voice darkened. He stepped closer again, bending down to eye level with the man. "Who sent you?"

"He's scared. He won't tell you," Alessandro said, voice deep with sorrow.

"Oh, he will," Giacinto didn't even look back at the blond, keeping his eyes on the tense assassin. "Won't you?"

Piero shook his head again.

"You're scared not mute," spat the Greek, straightening up abruptly.

Giacinto might be a lot of things, but he did not appear to be a patient. That was bad. Impatient men were reckless. Too impulsive. If he stabbed the assassin in a petty fit, they'd be none the wiser.

"More scared of them? Your mistake," Giacinto said. "They'll kill you anyways, you know? They don't like failures."

"You're nothing against him," Piero pressed out between gritted teeth, jaw so tense it seemed he'd crush his own bones any time soon. His eyes held a glint now, narrowed in the first act of defiance since he'd been tied to the chair.

"Him. I assume we're talking about the reaper?"

"Yes."

"How'd you know? Maybe I'm far worse," Giacinto smiled, "Far, far worse."

OOf, what's happening? Giacinto -- good or bad? Why not kill Laelia? What will Alessandro do?

Apologies for the late update! Love you!