THE DEVIL'S VOW

The truth

The words echoed in the empty atrium.

Somewhere you'll never find him.

Isabella stood frozen, her heart pounding, her mind reeling. Her father. Alive. After fifteen years of believing he was dead, of mourning him, of searching for answers—he was alive.

"Isa." Lucian's voice was gentle, his hand on her arm. "Isa, breathe."

"He's alive." Her voice was barely a whisper. "My father is alive."

"We don't know that for sure. Julian could be lying."

"He wasn't." She turned to face him, her green eyes blazing. "You saw his face. He was telling the truth. My father is out there somewhere, and I'm going to find him."

Lucian studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"Then we'll find him. Together."

---

They spent the next three days in debriefings.

Agent Reeves had questions—hundreds of them. About the Vale Group. About Julian Vance. About the evidence they'd gathered and the raid that had taken down the largest criminal organization in the country.

Isabella answered them all, her voice steady, her mind elsewhere.

Her father.

She'd spent fifteen years hating him. Hating him for leaving, for abandoning her and Matteo and their mother. Hating him for not being there when they needed him most. Hating him for dying without saying goodbye.

But he hadn't left. He hadn't abandoned them. He'd been taken.

He was going to expose us. So we made him disappear.

Julian's words echoed in her mind, a puzzle she couldn't solve.

Where would they have taken him? How would they have kept him hidden for fifteen years? And why keep him alive at all?

"He's leverage," Lucian said when she voiced the question. They were sitting in the loft, the city lights glittering through the windows. "The Vale Group kept him alive as insurance. If anyone ever got too close, they could use him as a bargaining chip."

"But no one ever got close. Not until now."

"Exactly. So they kept him hidden. Somewhere no one would think to look."

Isabella stood, pacing the room. "Where? Where would they take him?"

"Somewhere isolated. Somewhere with no connection to the Vale Group. Somewhere they could control him without raising suspicion."

"Like a mental institution?" Isabella's blood ran cold. "A prison? A—"

"Isa." Lucian caught her arm, stopping her pacing. "We'll find him. I promise."

"How? We have no leads. No clues. Julian is in federal custody and he's not talking. His men are either dead or arrested. There's no one left to ask."

"There is one person."

Isabella looked at him. "Who?"

"Marcus Chen."

---

Marcus Chen had been Lucian's head of security for ten years.

He'd also been Julian Vance's mole.

Isabella had never trusted him—something about his too-perfect smile, his too-eager deference. But Lucian had insisted he was loyal. Had trusted him with his life.

That trust had nearly gotten them killed.

After Julian's arrest, Marcus had disappeared. The FBI had issued a warrant, but so far, he'd evaded capture. He was a ghost, a shadow, a man who knew how to vanish.

But Lucian knew how to find him.

"He has a sister in Philadelphia," Lucian explained. "She's the only family he has left. He'll go to her eventually."

"And when he does?"

"We'll be waiting."

---

They drove to Philadelphia the next morning.

The sister lived in a modest row house in Fishtown, a working-class neighborhood full of young families and aging immigrants. Lucian parked across the street, his eyes fixed on the front door.

"How long do we wait?" Isabella asked.

"As long as it takes."

They waited six hours.

At dusk, a figure appeared at the end of the street—a man in a hoodie, his shoulders hunched, his steps quick and furtive. He looked around twice before approaching the house, his hand reaching for the door.

"Now," Lucian said.

They moved quickly, silently, cutting off his escape before he could run.

"Hello, Marcus," Lucian said.

Marcus froze. Then he turned, his face pale, his eyes wide.

"Mr. Thorne. I can explain—"

"You betrayed me." Lucian's voice was ice. "You sold me out to the man who murdered my parents."

"I had no choice. Julian threatened my sister. He said he'd kill her if I didn't cooperate."

"So you chose to let him kill me instead?"

"I didn't think he'd actually do it." Marcus's voice cracked. "I thought he was just trying to scare you. I didn't know—"

"You didn't know he'd kidnap Isabella's brother? You didn't know he'd try to kill us both?"

"I'm sorry." Marcus's eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry isn't enough." Lucian stepped closer. "You have one chance to make this right. Tell me what you know about Alessandro Rossi."

Marcus blinked. "Who?"

"Isabella's father. Julian took him fifteen years ago. He's still alive. Where is he?"

Marcus was silent for a long moment. Then: "I don't know."

Lucian's hand shot out, grabbing Marcus by the throat. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Marcus gasped. "I don't know where he is. But I know who does."

"Who?"

"Julian's lawyer. A man named Harold Finch. He handles all the Vale Group's... special projects. If anyone knows where Alessandro is, it's him."

Lucian released him. Marcus stumbled back, gasping for air.

"Where can I find Finch?"

"He has an office in Manhattan. But he's paranoid. He never meets anyone without a referral."

"Then you're going to give us one."

Marcus hesitated. Then he nodded.

"Okay. I'll do it. But you have to protect my sister. Julian's people will come for her if they find out I talked."

"They won't find out." Lucian's voice was cold. "Because you're going to disappear. Leave the country. Never come back."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll call the FBI and tell them exactly where you are."

Marcus stared at him for a long moment. Then he pulled out his phone.

"I'll make the call."

---

Harold Finch's office was on the forty-second floor of a building in Midtown—a sleek, modern space full of glass and chrome and the quiet hum of money.

Isabella and Lucian walked in together, dressed in their best, playing the part of wealthy clients. Marcus had given them a referral code—a series of numbers that would get them past the receptionist and into Finch's inner sanctum.

"Mr. and Mrs. Thorne," the receptionist said, glancing at her screen. "Mr. Finch is expecting you. Please follow me."

They were led to a conference room with a view of the city. A moment later, a thin man in an expensive suit entered, his smile polished and insincere.

"Mr. Thorne. Mrs. Thorne. What a pleasure." He shook their hands. "How can I help you?"

"We're looking for someone," Lucian said. "A man named Alessandro Rossi."

Finch's smile flickered. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name."

"He was taken by the Vale Group fifteen years ago. We believe he's still alive."

"I'm sorry, but I have no knowledge of—"

"Don't lie to us." Isabella's voice was sharp. "We know you handle the Vale Group's special projects. We know you helped them disappear people. We know you're the one who arranged for my father to be taken."

Finch's smile vanished. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then why are you sweating?" Lucian asked.

Finch glanced at the door. "I think you should leave."

"We're not leaving until you tell us where my father is." Isabella stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "You can either cooperate, or we can go to the FBI with everything we know about your involvement with the Vale Group. Your choice."

Finch was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed.

"If I tell you, you have to protect me. Julian has people everywhere. If they find out I talked—"

"They won't." Lucian's voice was steady. "Because Julian is in federal custody. His organization is dismantled. There's no one left to protect you from."

Finch considered this. Then he nodded.

"Alright. I'll tell you."

He walked to his desk, pulled out a key, and unlocked a drawer. Inside was a file—thick, yellowed, covered in dust.

"Alessandro Rossi," he said, handing it to Isabella. "He's been in a private facility in upstate New York for the past fifteen years. A place called Blackwood Manor."

Isabella's hands trembled as she opened the file. Inside were photographs—her father, older, thinner, but unmistakably him. And documents. Medical records. Psych evaluations. All confirming that he was alive.

"He's been there this whole time?" she whispered.

"Yes." Finch's voice was quiet. "He's been heavily medicated. They wanted to keep him docile. Compliant."

"Can we see him?"

Finch nodded. "I'll make a call. But I warn you—he may not recognize you. Fifteen years of medication and isolation... it takes a toll."

Isabella looked at Lucian, her eyes shining with tears.

"I don't care," she said. "I just want to see him."