Chapter 30 Renato
The drive south from Alessandro's villa takes us deeper into Rome's industrial outskirts. Matteo drives while Alessandro sits zip-tied in the back seat, growing more terrified with each passing kilometer.
"Where are you taking me?" he asks for the third time.
I ignore him, checking my phone instead. Still no word from my people tracking Torretti's location. The waiting is worse than action.
"Almost there," Matteo says, turning onto a service road lined with warehouses. "My contact came through. No cameras, no witnesses, soundproof."
"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.
Alessandro's scream fills the warehouse.
The severed finger drops to the concrete floor with a small splash of blood. Alessandro stares at the stump in shock, his face white as paper.
"That was for hiring Torretti," I say calmly, wiping blood from the cutters. "The next one is for every second she stays in his custody."
"Jesus Christ!" Alessandro gasps, cradling his mutilated hand. "You're fucking insane!"
"I'm motivated. And you're going to call Torretti and convince him to return her." I position the cutters around his ring finger. "How you do that is up to you. But you'd better be very persuasive."
"He won't just hand her back! His client is already en route to the delivery point!"
"Then give him a reason to cancel." I apply slight pressure to the cutters. "Think, Alessandro. What would make a professional broker walk away from a very lucrative deal?"
"Nothing! His reputation depends on completing contracts!"
I squeeze harder. The blades begin to bite.
"Wait! Wait!" Blood streams down his arm as he frantically searches for an answer. "The merchandise! What if the merchandise is damaged?"
I pause. "Explain."
"His client paid premium prices for specific qualities.
Virginity was part of the package—that's why the price was so high.
" Alessandro looks at me with something between fear and calculation.
"What if I tell him her father told me you raped her.
When she called him. He was furious—said you'd defiled his daughter, taken her virginity. "
“Keep talking.”
"If the product is compromised, if she's no longer what was promised.
.. Torretti can't deliver damaged goods without risking his client's wrath.
His client expects an untouched virgin. That's what they paid for.
If you've... if she's been compromised, Torretti has a problem.
He can't deliver defective merchandise without his client blaming him for the fraud. "
Understanding settles into place. "He'll have to cancel to protect his reputation."
"Exactly! And there's more pressure we can add.
" Alessandro's words tumble out desperately.
"Camilla's father—he's been making noise about involving authorities.
If Torretti thinks there's legal exposure on top of delivering compromised merchandise, if the deal is falling apart from multiple angles. .."
"He'll cut his losses."
"Yes! He can walk away claiming fraud, that you misrepresented the merchandise. It saves face with his client and gets him out before legal complications arise."
I release the bolt cutters and step back, considering. It's actually solid logic.
"You're going to make that call. You're going to convince Torretti that the merchandise has been compromised and that Camilla's father is threatening to involve the authorities." I pull out my phone. "And you're going to make it believable, or I'll take more than fingers."
"What do I say exactly?"
"What you just told me. That she's no longer the untouched virgin his client expects.
That her father is preparing to file formal complaints with the Carabinieri about the entire operation.
" I dial Torretti's number. "You make him understand that delivering damaged merchandise to a dangerous client is worse than walking away. "
"And if he doesn't believe me?"
"Then I'll take another finger and you'll try again." I put the call on speaker. "But you'd better pray he believes you the first time."
The phone rings three times before Torretti answers.
"Alessandro? This is unexpected."
"Franco, we have a serious problem."
A pause. "What kind of problem? I'm hours from delivery."
"The merchandise has been compromised. Significantly."
"Compromised how?" Torretti's voice sharpens with suspicion.
"Renato Vitiello. He's been with her. Intimately.
" Alessandro's voice steadies as he finds his footing.
"Her father found out—she told him during that phone call Renato arranged.
He called me, absolutely furious. Said Renato had defiled his daughter, taken her virginity. He was lying about her purity."
A long, dangerous silence. "Are you certain?"
"Her father was explicit about what happened. Very explicit. She's no longer what you promised your client, Franco."
"This is a significant problem."
"It gets worse. Camilla's father has discovered what's happening with the auction. He's threatening to file formal complaints with the Carabinieri. Multiple agencies. He's prepared to bring down everyone involved if I don’t promise to bring her home."
Another pause, longer this time. I can practically hear Torretti calculating the risks.
"Her father," Torretti says slowly. "He has evidence?"
"He has a missing daughter who told him she was raped by her captor, and enough family reputation to make the authorities care.
He's talking about human trafficking charges, sexual assault, international crimes, full investigations.
" Alessandro's getting better at this, his businessman instincts kicking in even through the pain.
"Franco, think about what happens if you deliver compromised merchandise to your client.
They'll blame you. And if the authorities start investigating. .."
"The entire operation becomes toxic."
"Exactly. You deliver damaged goods to a client who expects perfection, while law enforcement is breathing down everyone's neck? That's catastrophic for your reputation."
I can hear Torretti's breathing, the sound of him weighing his options.
"Where do you want delivery?" he asks finally.
Alessandro looks at me. I write an address on paper and show it to him.
"The old Ostia warehouse district. Building 47. One hour."
"This better not be a setup, Alessandro. If Renato is there, if this is some kind of ambush—"
"No ambush. Just retrieve your reputation before this gets worse. Drop her and walk away. We all forget this happened."
A long pause. "One hour. Building 47. And Alessandro? This ends our business relationship. The Rossi family is no longer a client I'm willing to work with."
"Understood."
The line goes dead.
I look at Alessandro slumped in his chair, pale and bleeding. "It's done."
"We're finished then? The debt is paid?"
I study his face—the split lip, the swollen cheek, the bandaged hand where his finger used to be. Blood has dried on his expensive shirt.
"Yes, Alessandro. We're finished."
"Thank God." Relief floods his voice. "I can arrange medical attention, and we never have to speak—"
I put two bullets in his chest before he can finish the sentence.
Alessandro's eyes go wide with shock and betrayal as he topples backward in the chair. Blood spreads across his shirt in dark blooms.
"You wanted her sold into slavery," I tell his dying form. "Did you really believe there wouldn't be consequences?"
His mouth moves but no sound comes out. The light fades from his eyes as Matteo and I watch dispassionately.
"Boss?" Matteo asks after Alessandro goes still.
"Have someone clean this up. Make it look like a business dispute gone wrong. There's plenty of those in his circles." I holster my weapon. "I want his body found, but not connected to us."
"What about the family? His son Lorenzo?"
"Lorenzo's next, but not tonight. One crisis at a time." I check my watch. "We have a delivery to collect."
Matteo nods and begins making calls. Just another night's work cleaning up messes.
As we drive toward Ostia, cold satisfaction settles in my chest.
Alessandro Rossi learned what happens when you threaten her.
Soon, Torretti will learn the same lesson.