Chapter 68 Blood and Iron
Matteo
Rosco hauled her into the van like she weighed nothing, one arm hooked under her knees, the other braced against her back. Her head cracked against the frame with a dull thud.
“Oops,” he muttered, not sounding sorry in the slightest, as her body slumped unconscious across the metal floor.
Before I could say a word, Valentina was already moving. Quick. Efficient. Like this wasn’t her first time zip-tying a body, even though we both knew it was.
She grabbed the rope from the crate under the bench and began binding Maria’s ankles and wrists, tight and clean. Then, without hesitation, she wrapped a thick strip of duct tape over the knots—twice for good measure.
I watched her through the rearview mirror, a slow grin curling my mouth.
Rosco glanced up and met my eyes.
We didn’t say a word. We didn’t need to.
She was a natural.
When Valentina leaned back and wiped her hands on her thighs, Rosco gave a low, impressed whistle. “Well damn. Look at our girl.”
“She learns fast,” I said, shifting the van into gear.
Valentina caught my eye in the mirror. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere quiet.”
She didn’t ask again.
I drove for twenty minutes, weaving through the outskirts until the city thinned and the road turned to gravel. Eventually, I veered off into the rusting skeleton of a junkyard, where metal carcasses towered on either side like grave markers. A place forgotten by time. A place no one would hear a thing.
Near the back, there it was—our setup. A dented, rust-pocked sedan already positioned on the crusher platform, just waiting for its final scene.
I backed in beside it and cut the engine.
“Let’s make it theatrical,” I said, pushing the door open.
Rosco climbed out and opened the van’s sliding door again. Together, he and Valentina lifted Maria’s limp body and loaded her into the driver’s seat of the junked car. He buckled her in like he was strapping in a toddler for a road trip, then snapped a cable tie around the belt so she couldn’t release it. Another tie went around her neckrest and wrists. There’d be no flailing. No escape.
Rosco pulled a small vial from his pocket, cracked the top, and waved it under her nose.
Maria jerked violently, coughing as her eyes shot open.
“What the fuck?” she rasped, blinking as her surroundings came into focus. Her pupils contracted. Her mouth twisted in horror. “What the fuck is going on?!”
I stood just outside the car door, hands in my pockets, Valentina at my side.
“Afternoon, sweetheart,” I said smoothly.
“You—” Her voice cracked. “You’re insane.”
“I warned you not to cross me,” I replied, calm as steel. “I assumed you knew who I was. That you were smart enough to grasp what I’m capable of. Apparently, I gave you too much credit.”
She thrashed, snarling. “You piece of shit! I’m going to scream until someone finds me!”
Rosco snorted. “No one’s finding shit out here, baby. We’re in the dead zone.”
I stepped closer. “I gave you a choice. A trust fund. A clean break. You could’ve walked away from all of this with dignity.”
He glanced sideways. “Which is probably more than my wife would’ve offered, by the way.”
Maria’s head snapped toward Valentina.
“This is because of you, isn’t it?” she spat. “Because you couldn’t handle the thought that he might want to stick his dick in a tighter pussy?”
Rosco laughed so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye. “Honey, I’ve been balls-deep in that pussy. Tighter’s not the word I’d use.”
Maria paled.
Valentina, however, didn’t even flinch.
“Oh bless your heart,” she said sweetly. “I was a virgin when we got married. Nothing’s tighter than that.”
She stepped closer, leaned into the window, and added with a faux-whisper, “Also? I saw your head game firsthand. It was… underwhelming.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed, venom spitting off her tongue. “You little bitch.”
“She’s not wrong,” I added casually, tilting my head. “The effort was there. Execution? Not so much.”
Valentina let out a laugh, crisp and cold. “You really should’ve taken my husband’s offer. Walked away rich. Comfortable. Safe. But no… you had to act like a little cunt.”
I pulled the remote from my coat pocket—the one that controlled the crusher—and held it out toward her.
Her eyes widened.
Valentina’s fingers closed around the remote like it belonged there.
Maria thrashed again, wild now. “You’re bluffing! You won’t do it! You wouldn’t!”
Valentina smiled down at her, a softness in her expression that was somehow more terrifying than rage.
“You don’t know me at all,” she whispered.
And then she pressed the red button.
The scream cut off with a sickening crunch of metal.
The crusher finished its job with a final lurch, compressing the car—and Maria inside—into a slab of twisted steel. It steamed in the cold air like a fresh kill.
Before Valentina could even release a full breath, a mechanical whine echoed through the yard. A massive crane with a magnet swung into view above us, its joints groaning as it lowered over the wreck.
“Whoa,” Valentina muttered as the slab lifted off the platform, dangling and spinning slowly through the air.
The crane operator didn’t hesitate. The crushed car arced over our heads and dropped neatly onto a moving conveyor belt about twenty yards away—one that led straight into a massive warehouse structure with smoke curling from its upper vents.
“Who the hell is driving that thing?” she asked, shielding her eyes as she watched the wreck vanish through the wide industrial doors.
I smirked. “That’s Joey.”
“Joey?”
“Another cousin. Doesn’t like getting his hands dirty with the family business, but he’s loyal. Prefers a quieter life, so he lives out here in the sticks and runs this place—junkyard, smelting, metal works, the whole nine.”
Her gaze stayed locked on the warehouse. “So that car…”
“Is headed into the incinerator,” I said smoothly. “It’ll be smelted down and recycled. Probably end up as a swing set or a sink faucet.”
As if on cue, the magnet above us groaned again and dropped low—this time directly over our van.
Valentina’s brows shot up. “Wait—”
The magnet clamped down with a loud clang, and the van jerked upward, tires swinging in the air.
“No loose ends,” I told her, flashing a wink.
She looked back at the rising van, lips parting in surprise. “Damn.”
I motioned to Rosco. “Let’s go. Back to the mall.”
“And sneak in the side door again?” Valentina asked.
I nodded. “We get caught on camera leaving in our own vehicle—clean, unbothered. That way, if anyone wants to try and pin this on me, well…”
He grinned. “We were eating ice cream and shopping. Cameras confirm it.”
“And with no body,” I added, holding the door open for her, “there’s no case.”
Rosco chuckled. “Boss, you make murder look like a damn art form.”
I shot him a grin. “That’s because it is.”