Page 49 of Pretty Poison

“Really?”

“Now that we know who they are, I think it’s best if you talk to them. They’ll talk to you long before they ever do to us. You’re their link to the outside world and if you know them the way you say you do, they’ll tell you what we want to know to get back out there.”

“When?” I ask eagerly. “When can I talk to them?”

“After the wedding,” he says calmly. “I know you wanted your brother to be there, so I understand the urgency you feel to free him, but even if he were to spill his deepest and darkest secrets, he would be in no shape to attend. There’s no harm in waiting a few days.”

I shake my head. “I can’t wait three days to see them again, Dario.”

He huffs, “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“I would do anything, and I meananythingto prove their innocence and if fighting you makes that happen, then so be it.”

He stands, holding his hand out for me to take. “You have ten minutes to see them, Liana. After that, you wait until after the wedding. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

“Twenty,” I bargain.

“Done,” he says. “I would’ve negotiated for thirty.”

I roll my eyes and pinch my lips shut, not wanting to push my luck.

Our walk to the soldiers’ house is quick, my legs working overtime to match Dario’s wide strides, and my mind reels with what I want to say to Ace and Apollo. It’s impossible to pick up where we left off—I haven’t seen them for years—we’ve aged so much since then. The possibilities of what to say are endless.

Finally making it to the basement, Dario turns to glare down at me with a cold expression. “You have twenty minutes, Liana. You can choose however you want to split it—you can do ten and ten, fifteen and five—I really don’t care. But we’ll be leaving in exactly twenty minutes, so use your time wisely.”

I take a moment to compose myself, trying to think of how I want to play this. I’ve missed Apollo for seven long years. Ace has been gone a similar amount of time, but something within me screams to spend more time with Apollo. He’s the one I need. After all, he’s my brother and he used to understand me better than I did.

“Apollo first,” I finally say and he nods, pulling me towards the furthest cell.

The door fans open and his appearance is better than before. The chains are longer, allowing his feet to graze the floor. He wears a black tattered t-shirt and baggy joggers, almost as if they’ve dressed him up to appear less injured than I know he is.

Stepping inside, I walk towards him, flinching and stopping in my tracks as he pulls his head up to meet our eyes. A glint of recognition flickers in his eyes, but immediately disappears.

“I’m not telling you shit,” he spits out. He’s trying to make himself appear strong in his weakened state, but his voice sounds strained, like he’s forcing out the words.

“Apollo,” I whisper, approaching him slowly before stopping just a few feet in front of him. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

“I didn’t picture you to be the kind of man who would bring his wife to fight his battles.”

My head turns to Dario, my eyes welling with tears. “He doesn’t recognise me. He doesn’t know who I am.” My voice cracks.

“He’s been gone a long time,” he whispers as if to conceal his words. “You need to make him remember.” He places a hand on the small of my back and walks with me closer to him.

“I–it’s me, Liana.”

“No.” His voice turns rigid, his words softer. “Liana’s dead. She died.” He drags his eyes to Dario. “Whatever twisted game you’re playing is sick and it’s not going to work.”

“I didn’t die,” I scoff. “I’m right here. I’m here and I need you to talk to me.” He stays silent, his eyes glued on Dario. I sigh, trying to think of things only we would know. “Mom left us when I was only a couple of months old and you were five. W–we have matching tattoos, sort of, but yours matches Savio’s more than mine—” I yank my sleeve up to show him.

“I–I don’t b–believe you,” he stutters. He never did that before, it must be a by-product of his captivity. “You could’ve gotten that information and tattoo from anywhere.” He looks at Dario again. “You’re a bastard.”

“So I’ve been told,” Dario huffs in response.

“Uhm,” I rub my forehead trying to dig deeper. “You’ve been gone for so long, I–I don’t know how to convince you.” I hum again before a light flickers in my mind. “Gabriel kicked you out when you were twenty because you told him you were gay. He couldn't overlook his old-fashioned ways and in turn, lost you.”

“My father being homophobic isn’t a secret. If you have enough money—which he certainly does—and you pay the right people, anything can be forgotten.”

“At the time, your boyfriend’s name was Ares, and I found that funny because it was like—”

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