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"Good," I muttered.
If I was going to live this life, I at least wanted to be prepared for what came with it.
"Although it may not sound justified to you, I am proud of you. You handled yourself well. The message on your smartphone and that you held out for so long without panicking. And when we were there, you trusted us with everything."
I snorted. "What else was I supposed to do?"
Dario shook his head. "Believe me, people don't always listen."
"I already had a plan. If they had strapped a bomb to me again."
He looked at me. He would not press me for an answer, but was still curious to hear what I had to say.
I tightened my shoulders until I felt a little more comfortable. "He thought I was going to run to you guys to save my life a second time but would end up blowing up with me."
"You wouldn't have done that?"
"No," I replied. "I had already pictured myself going to my favorite place and just waiting there to see what would happen. I would have written you a quick note to say goodbye and then just given the bastard the finger again by dying in a place where it wouldn't hurt anyone but me."
The memory of the explosion came back. Instead of the car, it could have been me. The screams of the burning men could just as well have been my own. How cruel it all was only now occurred to me.
It had caught the enemy, not me. The people who wanted to harm me had fallen victim to their despicable plan in the end. Was that what they called justice?
"Is he dead for sure now?" I wanted to know from Dario, although I remembered how the parts of his head had flown across the room and his body had slumped to the floor.
"Even though I'd rather, he was still alive he's dead,micina. And all his allies as well."
"You would rather have tortured him for a while longer," I stated with a neutral tone.
"Yes." Dario's answer was blunt. "I would have liked to take him to the basement under the club to keep him alive while I killed him in a slow, brutal manner. He would have deserved it. Just for kidnapping you."
I pressed my lips together and nodded. A small part of me wished he had suffered more and died in agony. A shot in the head was pure mercy. What Dario described sounded much more like just punishment for a bastard like him.
"He did nothing but punch me in the face when I made him mad. If that still bothers you," I said.
After I had woken up, it had no longer mattered that I was wearing only underwear and a light top. For the moment, I had been glad to be alive at all.
"And your ankle? Your side?"
"I was trying to get away from him when he broke into my apartment," I explained. "But it wasn't a good idea to jump over the railing to the first floor."
Dario shook his head. "I can't believe you were desperate enough to try that." There was a slight growl in his voice.
"I just wanted to get away. If I had made it to the streets, my chances might have been better."
At least someone there would have heard my cries for help and taken them seriously.
"If Emilio had told me half the group was already in the country, I wouldn't have let you go back to your apartment. I thought you'd be safe there. But as you can see " His gaze slid over my face, but it seemed more like he was reminding himself of his own mistake instead of making sure that everything was okay.
After a few seconds he rose, only to return a moment later with a first-aid kit, which he placed on the table. He pulled me and the chair a little away from the table, lifted my foot and studied the blue and swollen ankle. Again and again a sound escaped him that told me precisely how badly my foot was hurt.
At some point he applied a foul-smelling ointment and finally a bandage.
"You didn't want your family to see me, did you?" The question just came from my lips without me having any influence on it.
I had noticed how quickly he had taken us from the villa to his apartment after throwing Carlotta out of the car.
His gaze continued to rest on my ankle and his work, but the raised eyebrow gave him away.
