Gianna
“What?” Nico growled, looking pissed already. I subtly meshed my fingers with his in a warning. His jaw hardened in response, but he did calm down a bit.
“Yes. Two gunshot wounds to the chest and…his tongue was chopped off too. We’re still piecing together the timeline. But we do need to ask if either of you recognize this man.” Ferraro said, pulling a photo from a thin file.
I leaned forward instinctively, but Nico’s grip tightened slightly, almost like some sort of warning. The man in the photo was lifeless. Blood soaked the front of his suit. His face was slack, a jagged scar cutting down one cheek.
“Anything?” Ferraro asked. I slowly shook my head.
He was wearing a black mask. I didn’t see his face at all,” I muttered. “But the clothes are the same.”
Ferraro turned his
