THE DEVIL'S VOW

Alessia couldn't sleep.

Not after the funeral.

Not after the quiet wars of power fought over glasses of aged whiskey.

Not after the way Dante looked at her.

The echoes of the night still clung to her skin—the low murmurs of men who thought they could rule over her, the suffocating grip of Dante's hand on her back, the unspoken tension that lingered between them like a loaded gun.

She sat in the grand bedroom that was now hers, staring out at the moonlit vineyards stretching beyond the estate. Her father had been buried today. And yet, she was here, trapped in a marriage to a man she did not trust, bound by a contract written in blood.

And worse?

A part of her suspected Dante wasn't her enemy.

Which meant her real enemy was still out there.

Her hands clenched around the delicate silk of her nightgown. She needed answers.

And she knew where to find them.

The Study of a Monster

The Salvatore estate was silent.

Not empty. Never empty. Dante had guards posted everywhere, men in crisp suits with guns tucked beneath their jackets. But Alessia had been trained since birth to move unseen.

She slipped into the dimly lit hallway, her bare feet making no sound against the cool marble floor. The study was at the end of the corridor—a room she had only seen from the outside.

Until now.

She pressed her fingers against the heavy door. Locked.

Of course it was.

Dante wasn't stupid.

Alessia's pulse thrummed, heat rising to her cheeks. She had spent her entire life navigating a world of closed doors and hidden truths. If there was one thing she had learned, it was that locks could always be broken.

She reached into the sleeve of her robe and pulled out a thin piece of wire. A trick her father had once taught her when she was sixteen and too stubborn to accept defeat.

"You don't always need brute force, Alessia. Sometimes, patience is the sharpest weapon."

The lock clicked open.

She exhaled, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside.

The study was exactly what she expected.

Dark wood. Mahogany shelves filled with books on war, politics, and power. A massive oak desk stood in the center, covered in neatly arranged papers, a crystal decanter of whiskey beside it.

And behind the desk?

A vault.

Her pulse quickened.

What secrets was Dante hiding?

She moved toward it, her fingers tracing the cold steel. It was fingerprint-locked. No surprise.

Frustration tightened in her chest. She needed to be smarter.

She turned to the desk instead, scanning the documents.

Most were financial reports, stock transfers, encrypted contracts. Normal business affairs for a billionaire who also happened to be a criminal king.

But then—

A single letter, written in elegant script.

She lifted it, her stomach knotting at the first line.

To Dante Salvatore,

Your mission remains unchanged. The Romano heir must be eliminated.

Alessia's vision blurred.

Her fingers trembled as she forced herself to read the rest.

The war will not end until she is dead. There is no alternative. Do not let personal distractions deter you from the objective.

A sharp inhale cut through the silence.

Not hers.

Dante's.

The Devil in the Dark

"You shouldn't be here, wife."

Alessia spun around, heart slamming against her ribs.

Dante stood in the doorway, his expression an unreadable mask of steel.

A shadow in the dim light.

The predator who had just caught his prey.

She refused to show fear. She lifted the letter between them, her hands steady despite the cold rage building inside her.

"What is this?" Her voice was sharp, demanding.

Dante's dark eyes flicked to the paper.

Then, to her.

Something dangerous passed over his face—something she couldn't name.

"Put it down," he said, voice low, lethal.

She stepped forward instead. "So it's true?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "What do you think, Alessia?"

"I think I just found proof that you were supposed to kill me." Her voice didn't waver. "So tell me, Dante, what stopped you?"

Silence.

A silence so thick it threatened to strangle her.

Then, slowly, Dante moved.

One step. Then another.

Until there was nothing between them but a breath of air and too much tension.

He didn't grab her. Didn't snatch the letter from her hand.

He did something worse.

He smiled.

A slow, dark curve of his lips, something that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Would you believe me," he murmured, "if I said I changed my mind?"

Alessia swallowed, her pulse erratic. "No."

"Good," he said softly. "Because that would be a lie."

Her blood ran ice cold.

"Then why am I still alive?"

Dante exhaled slowly, watching her like a wolf deciding whether or not to devour his prey.

"Because you intrigue me," he admitted. "And I don't kill intriguing things."

The words were a whisper of something dark, something dangerous.

Alessia's stomach twisted.

He had just admitted it. He was supposed to kill her.

She was nothing more than a mission.

And yet—

She wasn't dead.

Which meant Dante Salvatore was breaking his own rules.

And that?

That was dangerous.

For both of them.

A Devil's Proposition

Alessia's grip on the letter tightened.

She should have been afraid. But fear had no place in this war.

"You expect me to stay here," she said, voice steady, "knowing that you were sent to kill me?"

Dante tilted his head. "You don't have much of a choice, wife."

She lifted her chin. "I always have a choice."

He chuckled. Low. Amused.

"Then make one, Alessia." His voice was a dare, a challenge. "Run, and I'll have every man in Italy hunting you by morning. Stay, and you'll learn just how much power you have in this world."

Her breath hitched.

A warning.

A threat.

And worst of all—a temptation.

Because the truth was, she couldn't leave.

Not yet.

Not when she didn't know who had betrayed her father.

Not when Dante was the only man who could lead her to the answers she needed.

So she did the only thing she could.

She let go of the letter. Let it drift to the floor.

And she met his gaze, unwavering.

"I'll stay."

Dante's smirk deepened.

"Smart girl."

But as he stepped past her, picking up the letter and tucking it away, Alessia made another vow.

She might be staying.

But she wasn't his.

Not yet.

Not ever.

And before this war ended…

Dante Salvatore would regret ever letting her live.

As Dante walked away, Alessia stood alone in the dark, whispering the only promise that mattered.

"You will never own me, Dante."

"I will burn you first."