Rain streaked down the windshield as the car cut through the empty road.
For the first time since she'd gotten in, the girl actually stopped talking.
Five whole minutes.
Lorenzo noticed immediately.
He didn't relax he waited.
People like her didn't go quiet without reason.
He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. She was staring out the window, chin resting on her palm, humming softly under her breath.
Five minutes passed.
Then
She turned to him.
Calm. Casual. Curious.
"You have to believe me," she said. "One month ago, someone kidnapped me. After some time, he dropped me home and started crying."
Lorenzo's foot eased off the accelerator.
"…What?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Right? And besides that, I have good experience with getting kidnapped. I got kidnapped five times."
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Five," he repeated slowly.
"Yes," she said brightly. "And every time, the kidnappers ended up crying."
Silence swallowed the car.
Rain tapped harder against the glass.
Lorenzo stared at the road, then at her reflection in the mirror, like he was trying to decide whether she was lying, insane or something far more inconvenient.
"That's not a flex," he said flatly. "That's a medical mystery."
She shrugged. "I just talk. Things happen."
He dragged a hand down his face.
This, he thought, is not leverage.
This was chaos wrapped in a university ID card.
She leaned forward slightly, studying him again. "Hey."
"What," he snapped.
"Can you remove your glasses?"
His brows furrowed. "…Excuse me?"
"I mean," she added casually, "you look good without them."
The car swerved slightly before he corrected it.
For a brief, dangerous second Lorenzo Moretti didn't speak.
Then he laughed. Short. Disbelieving.
"You're unbelievable," he muttered. "Do you flirt with everyone who kidnaps you?"
"I don't know," she said honestly. "Do you all wear glasses?"
He shot her a sharp look through the mirror.
"Stop talking."
She smiled. "Okay."
She didn't.
But something had shifted.
Lorenzo had planned this cleanly. Strategically.
Find the daughter. Take her. Apply pressure.
What he hadn't planned for....
was a girl who wasn't afraid.
who treated danger like conversation.
who didn't beg, didn't cry, didn't shake.
As the car disappeared deeper into the dark road, one thought settled heavily in his mind:
I didn't kidnap a victim.
I kidnapped a problem.