Chapter 9: The Devil’s Vow

The blood on my hands had long since dried, flaking into rust-colored dust that I couldn’t seem to scrub away. Three hours had passed since Luca’s body was carried out of the wine cellar, three hours since Dante had disappeared behind the heavy oak doors of his study without a single word to me. The silence was worse than screaming. It was a living thing, coiling around my throat, choking me with everything that had just happened.

I paced the length of my bedroom — my gilded cage — my bare feet sinking into carpet that cost more than my father’s house. The dress I’d worn to the engagement party was ruined, torn at the hem, stained with something I refused to name. I should have showered. I should have slept. I should have done anything but replay the moment Dante pulled the trigger. The way his hand hadn’t shaken. The way his eyes had held mine as Luca fell, as if he wanted me to witness exactly what kind of man I belonged to.

A soft knock made me freeze.

“Mrs. Moretti.” It was Elena, the housekeeper, her voice muffled through the door. “Mr. Moretti requests your presence in his study.”

Requests. As if I had a choice.

I took my time. I washed my hands until the water ran cold, until my skin was pink and raw. I pulled a silk robe over my nightgown, my fingers trembling as I tied the sash. I couldn’t let him see how terrified I was. That was a weapon he would use.

The study was bathed in amber light, the fireplace casting long shadows across the walls. Dante stood by the window, his back to me, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. He’d changed into a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the dark ink that snaked up his forearms. The same hands that had killed a man tonight had touched me with unbearable tenderness. The contradiction made my head spin.

“You wanted to see me,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

He turned slowly, and the raw intensity in his gaze nearly knocked the breath from my lungs. There was no cold calculation now. No mask. Just a man stripped bare, burning with something I couldn’t name.

“Sit down, Alessia.”

I didn’t move. “I’d rather stand.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “Still defiant. Good. I’d hate for you to lose that fire.” He set his glass down and crossed the room, each step deliberate, predatory. He stopped inches from me, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath, the cedar and smoke that clung to his skin. “What happened tonight — what you saw — that was necessary. But it changes things between us.”

“Changes things?” A bitter laugh escaped me. “You murdered a man in front of me, Dante. You held me captive while you did it. What could possibly change?”

His jaw tightened. “You were never a captive. You were a tool. A pawn in a game I’ve been playing since before you were born.” He reached out, and I flinched, but he only caught a strand of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers like silk. “But tonight, when I saw you standing there, covered in blood that should never have touched you, I realized something.”

“What?”

“I don’t want a pawn anymore.” His eyes locked onto mine, dark and fathomless. “I want a wife. A real one.”

The words hung between us, heavy and impossible. I stepped back, my spine hitting the bookshelf. “You’re insane.”

“Probably.” He closed the distance again, caging me in with his arms, palms flat against the shelves on either side of my head. “But you already knew that. What you don’t know is that I’ve been watching you, Alessia. Not just as a piece on a chessboard. I’ve seen the way you hold your ground when you’re terrified. The way you cried for Luca even though you barely knew him. The way you looked at me tonight — like you wanted to kill me yourself.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “I do want to kill you.”

“Good.” His voice dropped to a whisper, rough as gravel. “Because that means you feel something. Hate is still passion. And I can work with passion.”

He was too close. His heat seeped through my robe, his scent invaded every breath. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to claw at his face, to make him bleed the way I was bleeding inside. But my hands fisted in his shirt instead, holding on as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had just shattered.

“Why?” I choked out. “Why would you want me? I’m nothing. I’m no one.”

“You’re the only person in this godforsaken world who has ever looked at me and seen the monster.” His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “And you didn’t run. You stayed. You watched. That’s more than anyone else has ever done.”

“Because you wouldn’t let me leave.”

“No.” His forehead pressed against mine, our breaths mingling. “Because you wanted to see. You wanted to know the truth. And now you do.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the war inside me. Every instinct screamed to run, to fight, to find some way out of this nightmare. But beneath the fear, beneath the horror, something else stirred. Something dark and traitorous that craved his touch, his attention, the way he looked at me as if I were the only woman in existence.

“Marry me,” he said, the words a command and a plea all at once. “Not as a hostage. Not as a bargaining chip. As my wife. My equal. I will burn the world down for you, Alessia. I will protect you from Viktor, from your father, from anyone who dares to touch you. But I need to know you’re mine. Truly mine.”

I opened my eyes. His face was so close I could see the flecks of gold in his irises, the faint scar above his brow, the desperation he was trying so hard to hide.

“And if I say no?”

His smile was slow, dangerous. “Then I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you. I’m a patient man when it comes to what I want.”

“And if I say yes?”

Something shifted in his expression — relief, hunger, triumph. He kissed me then, not gently, not softly, but with the force of a man who had been starving for years. His hands tangled in my hair, his body pressed me into the shelves, and I kissed him back because I was drowning and he was the only air.

When we broke apart, gasping, he pressed his lips to my forehead. “Say it. Say you’ll stay.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “I’ll stay.”

The words tasted like surrender. Like salvation. Like a lie I was telling myself.

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Then we have much to do. Viktor will retaliate. Your father will scheme. And I have a wedding to plan.”

He released me and walked to his desk, opening a drawer. When he turned back, he was holding a ring — a massive diamond set in a band of black gold, glittering like a cruel star.

“This was my mother’s,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “She was the only person who ever loved me without condition. I want you to have it.”

He slid it onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

“I’ll have the dress delivered tomorrow,” he continued, all business now. “We’ll marry in three days. Small ceremony. Just the family.”

My blood ran cold. “What family?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Your father will be there. And Viktor.”

“Viktor? You’re inviting the man who tried to kill me?”

“No, amore.” He cupped my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “I’m inviting him to watch. Because when I put this ring on your finger and claim you in front of God and every devil in this city, I want him to know that you are mine. Completely. Irrevocably. And if he so much as looks at you wrong…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

“Get some rest,” he said, releasing me. “Tomorrow we begin planning our future.”

I walked back to my room in a daze, the ring heavy on my finger, his kiss still burning on my lips. I should have been plotting my escape. I should have been calling for help. Instead, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at the woman who had just agreed to marry the man who stole her.

Her eyes were wild. Her lips were swollen. And for the first time since I’d been taken, she didn’t look like a victim.

She looked like a bride.

The knock came just as I was about to climb into bed. Not Elena this time. Not a maid.

Dante. His voice was low, urgent, barely controlled.

“Alessia. Open the door.”

I opened it. He stood there with a phone in his hand, his expression darker than I’d ever seen it. His knuckles were white around the device.

“What is it?” I whispered.

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes. Real, raw fear.

“Viktor’s men just found something,” he said, his voice hollow. “Something that changes everything.”

“What?”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “My mother’s grave has been dug up. Her body is gone.”

I covered my mouth. “Oh my God.”

“And there’s a message carved into the headstone.” His eyes met mine, burning with a rage that terrified me. “It says, ‘A life for a life. Your whore of a bride will pay for what you did.’”

The room spun. Viktor wasn’t just going to attack.

He was coming for me.

And the wedding wasn’t just a ceremony.

It was bait.