And I'm very good at predicting desperate men.
Soon, we're on the A1, closing the distance.
My phone buzzes. One of my highway contacts.
"Spotted the sedan. Took the exit toward Via del Porto Fluviale. Industrial area, lots of warehouses."
"Which building?"
"Lost visual in the warehouse district. But there's only about a dozen structures suitable for what he needs—private, secure, away from main roads."
I know that area. Used it myself for operations that needed discretion. Torretti's choosing smart locations, but that also limits his options.
"We're twenty minutes out," I tell Matteo. "Call ahead. I want eyes on every warehouse in that district. No one moves, no one engages. Just watch and report."
"And when we locate her?"
"Then we go in fast and quiet. Torretti never sees us coming."
Alessandro thinks I've accepted his solution. Thinks I'm taking the money and moving on.
He has no idea what's coming for him.
Chapter 27: Camilla
The car smells like stale cigarettes and death.
I sit rigid in the backseat beside Torretti, my dress torn and blood-stained, trying to process what just happened. The images flash through my mind in disconnected fragments: Kozlov's hands on me, the fountain pen sliding into his throat, blood everywhere, gunshots, Renato's anguished face as Torretti dragged me away.
My hands are still shaking. Not from trauma. From adrenaline. I killed a man tonight. Drove a pen through his carotid artery and watched him bleed out on an expensive rug.
I should feel guilty. Should be horrified by what I've done.
Instead, I feel grimly satisfied. He deserved to die for putting his hands on me.
"Where are we going?" I ask, surprised by how steady my voice sounds.
Torretti doesn't answer. Doesn't even look at me. Just checks his phone as the driver navigates through darkness.
The silence is worse than threats. At least with Renato, I understood the game. With Torretti, I have no idea what he's planning. But I know one thing. He's not taking me back to the villa. He grabbed me during the chaos, saw an opportunity in the violence and took it.
Which means I'm his now.
The car turns onto a highway, and I see signs for Rome. My mind works furiously. Torretti is a broker, just like Renato said. He'llsell me to whoever he can find, whoever pays the most. I could end up anywhere. With anyone.
"How much am I worth to you?" I ask quietly.
He glances at me briefly, then back to his phone. No answer.
I try once more. "Renato will come looking for me."
"Vitiello has bigger problems than you," Torretti says finally, his voice disinterested. It's the first thing he's said since we got in the car. Then he goes back to his phone.
He's probably right. Renato has two dead buyers and a crime scene to manage. Even if he wanted to find me, he has to deal with that first.
The driver takes an exit toward industrial areas. Warehouses and commercial buildings that look abandoned in the darkness.
As we get closer to a complex of buildings, I see the security measures. Cameras, guards, reinforced doors hidden among the decay. This isn't abandoned. It's camouflaged.
