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"Taddeo, what an unpleasant surprise," I growled, yanking him closer to me and taking the time to nonverbally let him know that his last minutes had arrived.
I thought of Amedea, and even though I shouldn't split my attention, I glanced at the car. A stab went into my chest when I saw the bloodied hand hanging from the side of the smashed door.
Anger boiled up inside me.
"You… you should be in the car," Taddeo stammered.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of telling him that he had pushed his daughter off the road.
"As you can see, I'm standing right in front of you," I growled in his face. "And this time, nothing can save you."
Without waiting for an answer, I clasped his neck and squeezed. I felt the resistance of his muscles and tendons, heard his gasping breath, and saw him turn red, finally even blue.
But that was not enough. I knew how to break a person's neck without killing him immediately. Instead, he would suffer for a while, still fully conscious but unable to do anything about it.
Relief flooded me when I heard the first bone give way with a loud crack. I almost gingerly laid him on the grassy strip, looked down at him. "Someday you will die and I hope you suffer through every pain in this world by then."
At least when Dario showed up here, Taddeo would reconsider the decisions in his life.
Released from my duty to finally wipe this man from the face of the earth, I sprinted to the wreckage. The remains were still smoking.
I bent through the hole that had recently been an intact door. Immediately, a hand closed around my upper arm.
"Enzo!" That sounded pretty damn lively. "I'm sorry I wrecked the Sián."
What that? Was she serious?
More than relieved, I bent over her and took a brief inventory. Cuts, abrasions from the airbag, the odd bruise. No protruding bones, severed body parts, or first signs of a concussion.
"I don't care about the fucking car; you better tell me you're okay."
"Been better," she replied, a little agonized. "The belt won't come off."
Before I could say anything in response, I pulled out a knife, cut it, and then put my arms around her so I could lift her out of the remains of the Lamborghini.
Blood caked her clothes and hair; there was broken glass in it and other car remnants. It was a damn miracle that she was in one pieceandalive.
Her head slumped against my shoulder as soon as I stood up.
"I saw it in the side mirror," she muttered.
I didn't have to ask what she meant. Amedea must have thought I had already killed her father. She knew that he had intended to kill me. Not her.
Nevertheless, I did not hear one reproach from her. Not a word about it.
As we reached the road, Dario shot around the bend inhisSián, stopping behind the Jeep. He stormed toward us, beside himself with rage. I hadn't seen that expression on his face in a while.
"Is she alive?" he yelled, his eyes fixed on the hole in the guardrail and the body on the grass verge.
I nodded, barely noticeable. The sinister facade was beginning to crumble, and I no longer felt like kicking Taddeo's ass. That was Dario's responsibility now. Instead, I wanted to fix what I had successfully destroyed not even an hour and a half ago.
Only to be promptly shown how stupid it was not to admit certain things to myself.
"You can put me in the car with Dario. I'm sure he'll take me to the doctor," Dea murmured, still in my arms but unable to look up at me.
Was she worse off than first suspected? Her statement underlined the assumption because why the hell would she want to go to the doctor with Dario, of all people?
"Really. I'm sure that won't inconvenience him."
