FEATURED | #1 in whodunnit for over four weeks | #1 in the third chaos award
When you can't trust in angels, you turn to the devil for a pact.
Alessandro Steno is Venice's living legend. Trying to wash old blood off his hands, he hunts the city's...
So sorry for no updates this week! I was terribly sick and didn't get to it!
I thought I'd add a song here, I love reading to music as it adds a certain atmosphere to it! This one immediately reminded me of this story when I listened to it while writing, so give it a go!
Dedicated this chapter to @Raon_RJ , for being so kind and helpful!
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"Have you gone mad?" Alessandro yanked the Greek's arm away. The blond's grip was like a vice – hard and unforgiving like his eyes. He prayed it hid his confusion.
He felt as if his very soul had been thrust into ice cold water. He cursed himself. In a time where trust meant death, he had handed it over to a stranger. After the second time they met in a clash of black and gold.
That's what they were -- opposites clashing violently. The only thing uniting them was their goal to get behind these murders.
Trusting a man no one new. How stupid was he? Had he learnt nothing?
"Back down, guard dog. That's a thief."
Alessandro could hear the laugh in Giacinto's voice.The Greek sheathed his dagger with an artful twirl. Show off. He grinned down at the little kid – it was all sharp teeth and bright green eyes. "Now why don't you give that back, kid?"
The boy blinked, clutching something in small hands. He couldn't be older than ten. He didn't move, frozen like a deer staring wide eyed ahead at his hunter. His gaze flitted over to the large officer quickly now and then as if the lion would save him from the grinning cat.
Alessandro looked back and forth between the two. He would be damned if he let the Greek see the turmoil churning his insides.
His mind yelled at him for trusting Giaicnto. Leave now, before it's too late. Again.
Yet his soul begged him to believe the Greek, to not have been betrayed, to not have offered the enemy a place at his side. A strange feeling washed over Alessandro – the persistent tugging at the back of his mind suddenly ceasing. Revealing what he had denied. He wanted to trust someone. He wanted to let down his guard. He wanted to know he wouldn't be stabbed in the back if he turned his eyes away for a second. He wanted to finally exhale the breath he had been holding for three years. It was tiring, so tiring, so endlessly, exhaustingly tiring. Always tense, thoughts racing to always be one step ahead, always expecting the worst.
It was complicated and there was nothing Alessandro hated more than that. He hated chaos and he hated not knowing what was going on. It made him a great detective – and apparently bad company for the black haired mystery. The man was currently having a staring match with a ten year old – the boy having gone from shocked to have been caught and scared to sulky stubbornness rather quickly.
