Not what I expected. He’s tall, in a dark suit, but there’s something familiar about the way he moves.
"Delivery complete," the figure says, and my entire world stops.
Renato.
He's twenty feet away, gun in hand, face carved from stone. Behind him, shadows resolve into Matteo and other armed men.
Not a buyer.
A rescue.
Relief crashes through me so violently my knees almost buckle.
"Though I believe we need to renegotiate terms," Renato continues, his voice deadly calm, eyes fixed on something behind me. On Torretti.
"What is this?" Torretti's voice goes cold with understanding. "Where's Alessandro?"
"Alessandro had an unfortunate accident." Renato's gun doesn't waver. "Very cooperative before he died. Told me everything."
The guards flanking me tense, their hands moving toward weapons.
"Don't," Matteo says from the shadows, and suddenly rifles are trained on us from multiple angles.
My mind is still catching up. This was a trap. The whole thing. I don’t need to know the details to realize Renato is here for me.
But Torretti is a professional. He doesn't panic.
His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm and yanking me backward against his chest. Cold metal presses against my temple.
The relief evaporates instantly.
"Nobody moves," Torretti says, "or she dies right here."
The warehouse goes silent.
Renato's face doesn't change, but I see his finger shift on the trigger. Calculating. "You're making this worse for yourself."
"I'm making this survivable." Torretti backs toward the door, dragging me with him. "Your men lower their weapons, or she dies. Simple mathematics."
"If she dies, you die two seconds later."
"Then we both lose." The gun presses harder against my skull. "But at least I'll have the satisfaction of destroying what you came here for."
“Is that satisfaction worth your life?”
The nail file is hidden in my right shoe, wedged under the arch of my foot. Torretti's grip is on my left arm, gun pressed to my right temple. His body is against my back. It’s close quarters with no room to maneuver.
But close quarters can work both ways.
I meet Renato's eyes across the warehouse. He's calculating angles, trying to find a shot that won't hit me. There isn't one. Torretti is using me as a perfect shield again.
Which means I'm the only one who can change this equation.
Renato's gaze drops fractionally. To my hands, to the floor, back to my face. The tiniest nod. He knows I'm going to do something. He's ready to move when I do.
No words needed. Just understanding between us.
I suddenly let my body go completely limp as if I’ve fainted.
