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No one had ever done anything like that for me. My mother had begged the doctors at my birth to save her life rather than the child's. Ironically, she had died a few days after the birth anyway– a car accident. And I survived for the second time.
My father well, he wasn't worth mentioning anyway, because he had never been interested in any of his children. I had never met my half-siblings before because of that. Other than that, there was no one.
Therefore, it felt odd that a stranger had risked his own life to save mine.
Dario mumbled something unintelligible before answering me louder. "I'm the guy who kills first and asks questions later."
I held my breath, surprised by his honest answer.
"We are not a charity. We are the mafia. Who's to say you don't work for him and want to stab a knife between my shoulder blades later?" He said it so neutrally, I couldn't even blame him.
I raised my trembling hands. "I would hurt myself before I’d be able to draw blood from you."
My mother's death sometimes haunted me and I saw the scene so clearly before my eyes that I was sure it was a memory– as unlikely as that seemed. After all, I had been only a few days old and consciousness usually developed after infancy.
I hated every detail of it. Especially the second when it became unmistakably clear that life would never return to her body.
An icy knot formed in my stomach. I felt sick.
"You need to calm down. It would be a shame if I saved you from the explosion only for you to die of a heart attack." It was a joke, but I didn't want to laugh.
I was tough. Strong. Carried a big mouth. But this this reminded me all of those characteristics couldn't keep the dangers of this world away from me. It reminded me of my mortality, and strangely, it also reminded me that this was exactly the experience I was hunting to feel alive.
Death had been clinging to my heels since birth, every day since then was just stolen. Borrowed. Now and then I danced with him, but in the end, I still found myself among the living, although realistically it was impossible.
"With my luck, I'd survive the heart attack, too," I muttered.
"Like a cat with nine lives." Dario's gaze was fixed on the road and, to my surprise, he kept to the speed limit. Even though a car like this was made for speeding.
I did not tell him I’d already used up the nine lives.
"Where are you taking me now?"
"To my club. It’s closed today, so no one is staying there."
"You own a club?"
"And you've had nothing to do with the mafia, have you? "
"I try to stay out of trouble."
"Well, that worked out great," Dario muttered. "The Tycheismine. So the name Emilio de Archard means nothing to you either?"
"Should it?" I asked cautiously.
"Oh, given the fact that he has half of Italy under his thumb but well, let's just not tell him that. Might offend his ego."
For the first time, I had to grin. "I knew the mafia existed, but that's about it."
"Well, now you're in the middle of it."
And I didn't like that half as much as he made it sound. I wanted nothing to do with it– with the mafia, with their boss, or with the enemy who had used me to harm these men.
"I could do without it," I replied, sliding my hands, which continued to tremble, under my thighs so they would finally stop.
"Let's see if you're still saying that in a few days."
"In a few days?"
