“Signora…” [“Miss…”], I call her, gently taking her head.

Again, her eyes turn to mine as she tries uselessly to say something.
What I hear is just a croaky gurgle.

“Va tutto bene… L’ambulanza sta arrivando” [“It’s okay… The ambulance is on its way”], I say uselessly and her hand grabs the front of my grey shirt. Blood stains cover the fabric immediately as she tries to pull me towards her face.
I lean closer, turning my ear to her mouth.
Still that nonsensical gurgling and swallowing and burbling.
And a second later, she’s dead.

“Cristo santo…” [“Holy Christ…”], I hiss rubbing my face, getting up again, heading toward the door, knowing well that there’s nothing I can do here, knowing well that the bomb has destroyed just this apartment and no others.
I check the rest of the rooms just to be sure that no other victims are laying in a pool of blood waiting for help. When I enter the kitchen, that’s supposed to be the point of origin of the explosion, the doorframe collapses on me and a sting of pain hits my head, my shoulder.
I can feel the warm, thick sensation of the blood running down the right side of my face as I take a look around, noticing that the room is empty.
I run out the apartment coughing, touching my temple and wincing, stumbling down the stairs, chocking tears stinging my already reddened eyes.
Outside, on the street, I can hear the sirens of the ambulances. And the siren of a police car.

End Flashback

“…When I went out again, Cassandra was nowhere to be found…”, Dante concludes, slowly.

I swallow, glancing at Shane, whose eyes are still fixed on him. She has her lips pursed, and her face is growing pale.

“What I found…”, Dante elaborates, “…is this”.

He extracts something from the pocket of his leather jacket and places it carefully on the table.
It’s a card. A jack of spades.

“A card…”, Shane mumbles.

“Yeah…”, Dante replies under his breath.

“How do we fit in this story?”, I ask, abruptly, “I mean, the bomb…”.

My voice fades as Dante’s eyes look into mine.

“Thirty minutes later, I received a phone call. An unknown voice telling me that they have my wife and that I have to do what they tell me to do. They told me to come here, looking for you guys. I answered that I wasn’t going to do that. They said there was a bomb in your house. They say they were going to kill Cassandra if I refused to obey their orders, if I called the police… To kill Cassandra and the baby she’s carrying”.

I look down on the table, shocked.

“I had three days to come here. They booked my flight, they knew exactly when I would land. From that moment on, I had three hours to find the bomb and defuse it”.

“What’s happening?”, Shane asks unexpectedly, firmly.

Dante closes his eyes.

“It’s a game, Shane. They told me they want to play a game with us”.

“Who are they?”, I cut in, frowning.

“I don’t know. They told me that our team has to play and they would decide the rules”.

“Our team?”.

“Our team. They said that John James Sanders is looking for revenge”.

Shane’s eyes widen. I scratch my head unconsciously, I scratch the scar on my head. Something I had stopped doing almost one year ago, when I thought this story was over.
But it’s not over.
It will never end.
I let go a long, shaky breath, getting up and clasping to the kitchen counter. My knuckles growing paler and paler in my grip.

“John Sanders is a veggie”, Shane says matter-of-factly.

“I know”, Dante replies nodding his head.

“What’s going on?”, she repeats.

I can hear their voices muffled as I close my eyes, feeling my head spin.

“I don’t know it yet”, Dante says, “I will figure it out”.

TBC