Page 63 of Pretty Poison

“Shit,” Ace breathes, his eyes pop open. “It was him. Armando and Alfonso were one and the same.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dario asks, stepping closer to him.

“That scar. I noticed it immediately, but it never clicked. It was small, but looked… painful. It was kind of jagged, like someone drew a zigzag on him, but with something sharp enough to leave a mark.”

Apollo laughs, his brows still furrowed. “He’s right. And now that he mentions it, I’ve seen it a handful of times on different men. It’s impossible for them all to have identical ones, right?”

Dario nods once. “Impossible, yes. No scar is the same. Even if you tried to replicate it, there’d always be a flaw or two.”

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t remember who they were—their names, I mean. The ones you gave us sounded so out there and unique that I would’ve remembered. It’s possible he abbreviated them or shortened them, but I just don’t remember.” Ace nods as he agrees with Apollo’s statement and apology.

Dario exhales. “Would you be able to draw this scar?”

“Maybe, but I’ve never been very artistic.”

“I second that,” Ace says, pointing his thumb to Apollo, and they share a half-assed laugh. “We can both draw one, though. They won’t be exact, but hopefully similar enough to help you know what you’re searching for. You could take the sketches and draw various examples. Maybe something will lead to the man you’re looking for.”

“I’ll be back later… alone. I’ll bring pens and paper for you to sketch,” Dario states.

I look up at him, but he says nothing, glancing down at me with a smile.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow?” I turn around to face them with softened features and watch as they nod in unison.

Twenty Eight

DARIO

“Yeah, you’re not in touch with your artistic side, are you?” I joke, pouring Apollo and Ace a glass of water.

“We told you that,” Ace says, his tone somewhat sarcastic in nature. “But we’ve given you options because it’s impossible to replicate from memory, especially since it’s been so long.”

“Anything is better than nothing,” I say with a shrug. They both hand me their pieces of paper with sketches on either side and very little spare space left. “And you’re dedicated to finding him as much as we are… Why?”

“That bastard put us here,” Apollo scoffs. “And if I knew then what I do now, I never would’ve fucking done it. Or maybe I would’ve, but I would’ve done shit differently.”

His response catches me off guard. It’s like he has an internal conflict between his beliefs and his actions, which isn’t what I expected.

“You’re doing right by her, aren’t you?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“By whom, Liana?” He nods. “She knows what kind of man I am and what I’m capable of. She knows I won’t change—can’tchange. It’s in my blood to be who I am and do what I do. But Iwill never, ever hurt her and I’ll do everything within my power to keep her out of harm’s way. You have my word.”

He shakes his head. “She’s all I have left, Dario. I swear to God, if anything happens to her, I will always blame you, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll follow through on my initial mission here.” He flashes me a smile to show me he means well with his threat. “She’s been in danger since she was born. My father made alliances and loyal friends of the wrong people, so much so, that nobody dared touch any of us. But ifhebetrayed her, she’s fair game to anyone now.”

“What kind of ‘wrong people’ did your father associate himself with? Is there any one person I should be wary of more than the rest?” He narrows his eyes as he stares at me, confusion filling them. “I want to make sure there’s no one looking to hurt her. I have my hands full most days with my own search for someone that doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as us; the last thing I need is another ghost I can’t find.”

Ace and Apollo share a knowing glance. “Antonio Bianchi?” they question in unison.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?” They ask simultaneously.

“He’s been a thorn in my side since I was born. That man knows no boundaries and he’s ruined my family once. He’s bound to do it again, to finish what he started.”

“Since you were born? What does a grown man have against a child?” Savio asks, his brows pinching together.

“It’s a long story. The real question is, how do you two know him?”

“You asked who you should be wary of, we answered. Antonio Bianchi is a bastard. He led us to the man that landed us in here.”

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