And then it got worse. Should Alessandro ever write an autobiography, that should be the title.

When Alessandro had said he was heading out to go look for Laelia and Giacinto, Lorenzo had immediately accompanied him. "Don't think I'm doing this to spend time with you," he had said, winking at Alessandro. "They're my friends, too." He was a good man. And they had poisoned him. Alessandro shoved it aside, they had more pressing matters at hand.

Where were they?

Alessandro had convinced himself they had simply went to the market and lost track of time. The nagging voice had whispered Laelia perhaps would. This wasn't like Giacinto, he wasn't the type to stroll around admiring some flowers. Then he and Lorenzo had arrived at the cathedral -- Laelia and Giacinto had never been there.

His strides grew longer after that. He didn't even know where he was going. Lorenzo didn't call him out on it.

A hand pulled Alessandro back when he was about to blindly walk into the next street. "Inspector," Lorenzo said.

Alessandro stopped, eyes still searching the street. "I shouldn't have let them go alone."

"You couldn't have known something would happen--" Lorenzo stopped himself. "We don't know. They might just ... Maybe they went to a different church. Or they met an old friend. Or Laelia saw an abandoned puppy and had to save it!"

"No, this--"

Lorenzo's grip on his arm tightened. "No. You are not going to blame yourself for this. Whatever happened. You had no way of knowing."

"I should have been more careful. You have no idea what is going on here, I --"

Lorenzo bit his lip. "I don't. But I know this isn't helping. We're going home." His eyes bore into Alessandro's. "Maybe they've returned. And if they haven't, we go out, prepared. We'll have the servants help. I'll send out every guard I know. We'll find them."

Alessandro took a deep breath. He needed to find back to his detachment. That was what helped him solve cases."Yes."

"Good," Lorenzo nodded. He gave Alessandro's arm a reassuring squeeze, then quickly dropped his hand, looking away. "I, uh ... Let's go." He started walking.

"Signore Morosini."

Lorenzo turnt.

"Thank you." Alessandro caught up with him.

Lorenzo grinned as if he had won something. A small smile sneaked onto Alessandro's lips and he wondered if ... perhaps he had.

"You have no idea where you're going, don't you?" Lorenzo asked.

"Of course I do."

"You're walking away from the villa."

Alessandro ran a hand over his face. "... perhaps I don't."

Lorenzo made a sound suspiciously close to a stifled laugh. "Come on, inspector. It's not far."

It really wasn't -- apparently Alessandro had been walking in circles.

"You're -- look." Lorenzo suddenly stopped, nudging Alessandro.

At the end of the street, Laelia was just getting out of a carriage. Black and sleek, shining in the sun. A carriage?

But Giacinto didn't follow.

Alessandro started walking faster.

Laelia turned back, leaning back in. Moments later, she struggled to drag something out. The weight made her sway. Someone.

Alessandro didn't know when he had started jogging. Giacinto.

Just when he was steps from reaching them, the Greek caught himself, head slowly raising.

He looked like he had lost an argument with an elephant. His clothes were half bloody, half dirty. Some cloth had been wrapped tightly around his arm, fresh blood seeping through. A cut ran over his cheekbone, his lip was split, a purple hand glared from his throat. Dried blood sticking his curls together crowned him with a dark halo.

"Sandro!" Laelia called.

"What happened? Are you alright? Where were you --" Lorenzo appeared next to them.

"Zo?" Giacinto asked, stepping away from Laelia. "I can stand."

The girl frowned.

Lorenzo grinned awkwardly. "Long story. Let's get you looking human again and then we can trade stories." He reached out to Giacinto. "Let me help you."

"I'm fine," Giacinto said.

Alessandro's voice was dark. "No."

"Have had worse."

"That doesn't make it any better."

Lorenzo stepped in before they managed to start a fight. "He was just worried about you."

Alessandro opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Laelia smiled. "Finally."

There was so much Alessandro needed to ask. Whose carriage was that? Where had they been? What had happened? Who had managed to get past Giacinto's blades? And what was with his leg?

Giacinto was walking up the stairs to the entrance gate. And he was limping on the wrong leg.

He was faking it.

He dragged his right leg behind himself with every step. But when he had stumbled, he used it to regain balance. It was almost impossible to notice -- his left leg was the one hurt. But why would he hide it?

Laelia ushered them all inside, ordering a swarm of servants around to fetch an absurd list of things. Giacinto was commanded to sit still in one of the armchairs in the salon.

Alessandro sat at the table in tense silence.

Lorenzo brushed their hands together just a moment too long for it to be an accident. "He will be fine."

It wasn't the injuries that worried Alessandro.

Giacinto's eyes were blank the entire time. He didn't flinch when Laelia cleaned the cuts with alcohol, he didn't blink when she removed the bloody cloth from his arm and bandaged it with a clean one, he didn't make a sound when she smeared an oil with an icy smell over the dark bruise on his neck.

His hand was closed around the bloody cross around his neck.

Laelia filled them in while she worked, voice quiet, hiding the trembles. Alessandro was about to inquire about Marius and the agents when she flinched.

Giacinto's hand was closed around her wrist, trapping it in the air.

She tried shaking it off. "Gio, your ribs. I need to --"

Giacinto didn't move.

"I need to cut your shirt off. You can't raise your arms, if your rib is broken--"

"It's not." Giacinto still was staring straight ahead.

"You don't know--"

His laugh was hollow. "I know what a broken rib feels like."

"Giacinto. I won't discuss that. I need to take care of it."

Giacinto finally let his eyes flicker to her. "You will not."

What? Giacinto would never speak to Laelia like that. He couldn't deny her the tiniest wish.

But Laelia didn't see it. "Let me go, I need --"

Giacinto's jaw clenched.

"Gio, you're hurting me!"

Lorenzo jumped up. "Giacinto, let her go."

Alessandro was right on his heels.

They were too late.

When Laelia reached out to loosen the buttons on the tight vest, Giacinto's shout boomed through the entire hall. He flung her away from him like a rag doll. "Don't touch me!"

Alessandro lunged forward, catching her, arms coming around her like a wall. Lorenzo stormed towards Giacinto.

"Lorenzo, don't!" Alessandro called out, too late.

A dagger came right towards Lorenzo's throat.

"Don't touch me." Giacinto's voice was sharper than the tip pressed warningly against frozen Lorenzo's throat.

Laelia was trembling in Alessandro's arms. She ducked her head. He shot a quick glance at Lorenzo, but he seemed fine, just a bit pale. "Giacinto."

The Greek's chest was heaving. Without a word he snatched the flask with the tincture, a bandage, turnt and fled the hall.

They were stunned quiet for a long, shaky breath. Laelia slowly twisted in Alessandro's arms, raising her head. "What happened?"

Lorenzo shook his head. "I have no idea." His handsome face twisted into a sorrowful frown. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

Laelia shook her head, rubbing her wirst. Alessandro combed his hand through her hair, pressing a slow kiss on the top of her head. "It's not your fault."

"He got hurt because of me! And now I did something --"

They all flinched when a crash sounded from somewhere far away.

Lorenzo stared at the floor. "I just wanted to return that cloak. What have you gotten yourselves into?"

When Alessandro had seated Laelia in the armchair, Lorenzo smiling down at her, they told their part of the story. They still left out the part with the conspiracy, pretending they just fled to Florence to shake off the guards after the two men had escaped prison.

Alessandro wanted to tell him. If he hadn't already guessed from what Laelia had said about Marius. They could use any helping hand.

Every now and then, Alessandro's eyes strayed to Lorenzo, waiting for suspicion to darken his face. But the man just listened, showing no sign he realized he hadn't been left behind because he was drunk. That they had poisoned him.

"You really came all the way just to return his cloak?" Laelia blinked.

Lorenzo's cheeks turned red. "Well, I mean--" He coughed. "Actually, I didn't want to stay home.

"Why?"

Lorenzo glanced at Laelia then shook his head. "Not important, really. Just the cloak." He was lying.

"You left because of Antonio." Laelia's voice was quite. "Don't lie."

Lorenzo shot a helpless glance to Alessandro. He sighed. "Partially. Father is worse. And Antonio ... he's... behaving oddly."

"How?" Alessandro's voice was tight. Lorenzo was Antonio's brother. He might know something.

"Just ... odd. Different. Has these new guards, turkish, maybe. Barely speaks to us anymore, holed up in his study. Meets strange people, writes letters all the time. You'd think he's trying to take over the world."

Laelia stared down at her hands. Turkish guards. Everything spoke against Antonio.

"Get her to her room," Alessandro said. No one was in the state to have the conversation they needed to right now.

---

Alessandro knocked on Giacinto's door. "Giacinto."

Eerie silence answered. The entire corridor was deserted, the servants wisely fleeing his temper.

He knocked again. "Giacinto."

Nothing.

"I'm coming in."

The door was unlocked. Giacinto clearly hadn't expected him to be stupid enough to follow him. The room was chaos. Furniture had been knocked over, a puddle of water seeped from a shattered vase, exotic blossom's crushed under a heel. It was empty.

Alessandro crossed it, not thinking before he entered the next.

Giacinto was in his bedroom, in front of a mirror. Spiderweb cracks ran over it, blood on the shards. He must've punched it. A half empty bottle stood on the drawer.

But Alessandro barely registered that. Giacinto was shirtless. He didn't see the bruises over his ribs either.

A crunch of a shard under his heel gave Alessandro away when he stepped closer. Giacinto whirled around, eyes going wide as he yanked the torn shirt in front of his stomach. He was too slow.

Alessandro had seen it in the mirror. It made sense. It all made sense.

The limp. The worry a week ago when Laelia had stitched up his arm, saying he needed to hold still or it wouldn't heal well. The fear of needles. Why he had held his arm in that odd angle over his stomach, in the inn, when he had just climbed through the window and taken off his wet shirt. How he couldn't have Laelia look at his ribs now. The blank face when she had patched him up today. His eyes hadn't been empty. They had been looking far away. Into the past.

He had a terrible scar.

Alessandro's eyes widened. It was at least as broad as his thumb, splitting his skin at his side just below his ribs, running down, disappearing beneath his waist band. It wasn't bronze like the rest of his skin. It was all shades of violent purple. Thick, raised, jagged. It looked like it had reopened a hundred times.

"What happened?" Alessandro's voice was tight. What caused such scars?

"I made a mistake. I should have listened." Giacinto's voice as empty as his eyes. As if repeating after someone.

Then they snapped into focus and Alessandro knew he should run.

Alessandro just barely avoided tripping over an empty bottle when Giacinto drove him against the wall. His breath was hot, blood dripping from the reopened cut through his lips. His arm was pressed across Alessandro's chest, a knife in his hand. He was strong, but Alessandro could've thrown him off any time. He didn't. Giacinto reeked of fear.

"Leave. Now." Giacinto's voice was dark. "Forget what you saw."

"No."

The laugh ringing through the room was mad as a dying tyrant. It took Alessandro several moments to realize it was Giacinto.

"You realize I could kill you right now?"

Alessandro stared him down. "You won't. You are not a murderer."

"No, I'm a killer," Giacinto said. The breath escaping his chuckle tickled Alessandro's throat, making the hair on his neck stand. It smelled like a sea of vodka.

What did he mean with that? "What happened?"

The pressure against his chest increased. The Greek's eyes were dangerously unfocused, racing through the room as if searching for invisible attackers.

Then they snapped back, piercing into Alessandro's. His eyes weren't green like poison, nor like a deep forest. It was the dark green of shattered bottles, shards sharp and broken. Alessandro could see a frightened boy fight the dark.

Giacinto didn't blink. "I killed them all."

Alessandro saw a paradise lost.

What is going on? Giacinto shouting at Laelia, Lorenzo running from home, helping Alessandro however he can, Alessandro that worried about them, Antonio ...

Who suspected that scar? I scattered a few hints throughout the story, but I hope it still came as a twist. What do you think caused it?

Something is happening to Giacinto ... and the main action is about to pick up speed and get seriously twisted. As if I could keep this story that light.

Thank you for reading this chapter and all of your support! You guys are seriously the best! I can't thank you enough!

Have an amazing day!

Avis.