"Your contact?" I ask.
"A guy I worked with in Naples. Keeps a few properties for sensitive operations." Matteo pulls up to an abandoned building. "He doesn't ask questions."
Perfect.
The warehouse is exactly what we need. Concrete floors with drains, chains mounted to the walls, a single chair under harsh lights. Everything needed for serious interrogation.
Alessandro's terror intensifies with each step inside, finally understanding that this isn't about money or negotiation. This is about consequences.
"Please," he whispers as Matteo closes the heavy door behind us. "Whatever you think I did—"
"I know exactly what you did," I tell him. "The question is whether you're going to tell me how to undo it, or whether I'm going to cut the information out of you piece by piece."
His eyes go wide, taking in the room's purpose. The drains. The restraints. The tools arranged on a metal table.
"Sit," I order, pointing to the chair in the center.
He complies immediately, all pretense of dignity gone. The confident businessman who sent me smug texts has completely vanished. Matteo secures his restraints while I remove my jacket and roll up my sleeves.
"Now then," I say, pulling up another chair to face him. "Let's discuss your arrangement with Franco Torretti."
"Renato, I thought we agreed this was over—"
The backhand across his mouth shuts him up. Blood spurts from his split lip.
"I know you hired Torretti to watch the auction," I lean forward. "What I need to know is exactly what deal you made with him and how to get Camilla back."
"It's not that simple—"
Another backhand, harder this time. His head snaps to the side.
"Make it simple. Explain it to me like I'm stupid."
Alessandro spits blood, his face already swelling. "Torretti was there as a legitimate buyer, representing one of his clients. But I also paid him separately to verify the auction was real and to guarantee Camilla would be sold to someone—him, Kozlov, Al-Rashid, didn't matter. I just needed her gone."
"How much?"
"Three million euros. As insurance."
More than his original debt to me that he swore he couldn’t pay.
"And now he has her."
"He grabbed her during the chaos. Used her as a shield." Alessandro's voice shakes. "His client is expecting delivery. A very wealthy, very dangerous client who paid premium prices for specific... qualities."
I stand up, pacing behind his chair. "Where is he taking her?"
"I don't know the delivery location. Torretti never shares operational details with clients."
I grab a pair of bolt cutters from Matteo's equipment table. "Wrong answer."
Alessandro's eyes go wide with terror. "I swear to you, I don't know! He has facilities south of Rome, but the actual delivery point—"
I grab his left hand and position the cutters around his pinky finger. "Then you'd better figure out how to get her back without knowing where she is."
"Wait! Wait!" Panic floods his voice. "I can call him! I can—"
The cutters bite through flesh and bone with a wet crunch.
