Chapter 2: The Devil’s Bargain

Darkness swallowed the room whole. My heart slammed against my ribs as I fumbled for the wall, my fingers scraping against cold plaster. Behind me, Alessandro’s breath was steady, unnervingly calm.

“Don’t move,” he murmured, his voice a silken threat in the black. I heard the click of his gun—a sound I’d only ever heard in movies—and then the shuffle of his shoes on the hardwood floor.

“What’s happening?” My voice cracked. I hated how small I sounded.

“They’re early,” he said, almost to himself. A beat of silence. Then, “Stay behind me. No matter what you see, don’t scream.”

The lights flickered back on with a violent buzz, and I gasped.

Three men stood in my living room. They were dressed in black, faces obscured by ski masks, and each held a weapon trained on Alessandro. But Alessandro didn’t flinch. He stood between me and them like a marble statue, his gun raised, a predator’s smile curling his lips.

“You got balls, Russo,” the lead man said, his voice muffled. “Walking into a widow’s house the night of the funeral.”

“I’d say I have more than balls,” Alessandro replied, tilting his head. “I have her.”

My blood ran cold. “What?”

He didn’t look at me. “Marco’s men, I assume? Sent to clean up loose ends?” He laughed—a low, cruel sound. “You’re too late. She’s mine now.”

The lead man’s eyes—dark and furious—flicked to me. “She knows nothing.”

“She knows everything,” Alessandro corrected smoothly. “She’s the key to the ledger. And you’re not taking her.”

Ledger? My mind raced. Marco had never mentioned a ledger. He’d kept his business locked in a safe I’d never been allowed to open. But now, in the span of a single night, my dead husband’s world was crashing down around me, and this stranger—this beautiful, terrifying stranger—was claiming me like property.

“Last chance, Russo,” the man growled. “Walk away. Give us the girl, and we’ll forget you ever stuck your nose in.”

Alessandro’s smile widened. “I don’t take last chances. I make them.”

Gunfire erupted. I screamed, dropping to the floor as glass shattered and wood splintered above me. Alessandro moved like a shadow, his shots precise, each one finding its mark. The first man crumpled. The second fell against the bookshelf, knocking over the photograph of Marco and me on our wedding day.

The third man lunged at me.

I didn’t think. I grabbed the letter opener from Marco’s desk—the one he’d given me on our anniversary, engraved with our initials—and drove it into the man’s thigh. He howled, stumbling back, and Alessandro finished him with a single bullet to the chest.

Silence. The smell of gunpowder and copper filled the air. My hands were shaking, stained with blood I wasn’t sure was mine or theirs.

Alessandro holstered his gun and crouched in front of me, his gray eyes scanning my face. “You alright?”

“Don’t touch me,” I breathed, scooting back until I hit the wall. “You—you used me as bait.”

His jaw tightened. “I used you as a shield. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

He reached out, slow, deliberate, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and rough. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Marco hid a ledger—names, dates, every dirty secret the Morretti family has ever buried. Your husband was their accountant, and now that he’s dead, they think you have it.”

“I don’t have anything,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know.” His eyes softened, just for a second. “But they don’t. And they’ll kill you to find out.”

I stared at him, at the blood on his knuckles, at the way he looked at me like I was both a problem and a prize. “And what do you want from me?”

He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing my ear. “I want the ledger. And I want you to trust me enough to give it to me when you find it.”

“I’ll never trust you.”

He smiled again—that dangerous, devastating smile. “You will. Because I’m the only one standing between you and the wolves, and, sweetheart, they’re already inside the gate.”

My phone buzzed on the floor. A text from an unknown number: *You have 24 hours. Bring the ledger, or we burn your mother’s house down.*

Alessandro glanced at the screen, and his expression turned cold, calculating. “Well,” he said, standing and offering me his bloodied hand. “Looks like we have a deadline.”

I stared at his palm, at the offer of salvation wrapped in violence, and I knew—I knew this was the devil’s bargain. But my mother was all I had left.

I took his hand.

And somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.