The Devil's Vow

Chapter 1 - The Wrong Place

Sofia Moretti had always believed that the safest way to live was to remain unremarkable.

She wasn't invisible, exactly. She simply didn't give the world a reason to remember her.

At twenty-seven, she had built a quiet life around that philosophy. She worked at a small private art gallery downtown, rented a modest apartment on the fourth floor of an old building, met her best friend for coffee whenever their schedules allowed it, and avoided the kind of people who arrived in expensive cars and spoke as though every room belonged to them.

She liked ordinary.

Ordinary didn't bleed.

Ordinary didn't come looking for you in the middle of the night.

And ordinary certainly didn't come with men carrying guns.

Sofia stepped out of the gallery at 10:47 p.m., pulling her coat tighter around herself as cold rain scattered across the pavement.

The street was almost empty.

She glanced at her phone.

Three missed calls from Mara.

Where are you?

Sofia smiled faintly and typed back.

Leaving now. Don't start planning my funeral.

She slipped the phone into her handbag.

That was when she noticed the black sedan.

It was parked across the street beneath a flickering streetlamp.

She had seen it earlier.

She was almost certain of it.

Sofia slowed.

The driver's side window was dark.

She looked away and continued walking.

Probably nothing.

She had spent too many years in a city where everyone assumed the worst of strangers. A parked car was just a parked car.

A man in a dark coat was just a man.

A feeling in the pit of her stomach was just—

The sound of footsteps behind her made her stop.

She turned.

Nobody.

Her pulse quickened.

She started walking again.

Faster this time.

The footsteps followed.

Sofia reached into her handbag and wrapped her fingers around the small canister of pepper spray she carried everywhere.

She heard a voice behind her.

"Miss Moretti."

She froze.

Nobody called her that.

Not friends.

Not colleagues.

Not even strangers.

She turned slowly.

A man stood beneath the streetlight.

Mid-thirties.

Dark coat.

Rain dripping from his hair.

His face was unfamiliar.

But his eyes were not.

There was something about the way he looked at her that made her skin tighten.

Not attraction.

Recognition.

"You have me confused with someone else," Sofia said.

The man smiled.

"No."

He reached into his coat.

Sofia stepped backward.

Her fingers tightened around the pepper spray.

"Don't."

He stopped.

For a second, neither moved.

Then the man's smile disappeared.

"Your father left something behind."

Sofia's breath caught.

"My father is dead."

"I know."

The man's eyes moved briefly toward the black sedan.

"That's why they need you."

Before Sofia could ask who they were, a second man appeared from the alley.

Everything happened at once.

The first man reached for his weapon.

Sofia ran.

She didn't think.

She simply moved.

Her heels struck the pavement as she sprinted toward the gallery entrance.

A gunshot cracked through the night.

Sofia screamed.

The bullet struck the brick wall beside her.

She stumbled.

A hand caught her arm.

She reacted instinctively, spraying pepper directly into the man's face.

He swore and stumbled backward.

Sofia ran again.

She barely made it three steps before another figure appeared in front of her.

Tall.

Black suit.

Dark coat.

He seemed completely unaffected by the rain.

Sofia stopped so abruptly she nearly fell.

The man looked at her.

For one strange second, the chaos around them seemed to disappear.

His face was sharply defined, his dark hair slightly damp, and his eyes were so dark they seemed almost black beneath the streetlights.

He wasn't holding a gun.

He didn't need to.

The men behind Sofia had stopped moving.

The stranger looked past her.

"How many?"

"Three," one of the men answered.

The stranger's expression hardened.

"Take the cars. Leave the street clear."

Sofia stared at him.

"Who are you?"

He looked down at her.

His eyes lingered for half a second too long.

Then he said quietly, "The person standing between you and a very bad night."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"No."

His gaze shifted toward the men approaching them.

"But you need it."

Sofia stepped away from him.

"Stay away from me."

Something almost amused flickered across his face.

"You're frightened."

"I'm angry."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive."

She glared at him.

"Who are you?"

This time, he answered.

"Alessandro De Luca."

The name meant nothing to Sofia.

But the reaction from the men behind her did.

One of them stepped back.

Another lowered his weapon.

Sofia noticed.

And suddenly, she understood that the man standing in front of her wasn't simply another stranger.

He was someone they feared.

Alessandro looked at the men.

"Tell whoever sent you that Sofia Moretti is under my protection."

The older man hesitated.

"You don't have jurisdiction here."

Alessandro smiled.

It wasn't a pleasant smile.

"I don't need jurisdiction."

The man's face went pale.

Alessandro took one step forward.

"I need you to understand the consequences of making me repeat myself."

The men left.

Just like that.

Sofia watched them disappear into the rain.

Then she turned to Alessandro.

"What the hell was that?"

"Your evening getting worse."

"You know these people."

"Yes."

"You know why they came for me."

"Yes."

Her heart began pounding again.

"Then tell me."

"Not here."

"I think I've earned an explanation."

"You've earned several."

He looked toward the street.

A black car waited nearby.

Sofia took a step backward.

"No."

His gaze returned to her.

"No?"

"I'm not getting into your car."

"I wasn't asking."

Her eyebrows shot upward.

"Excuse me?"

He stepped closer.

Sofia forced herself not to move.

Up close, he was even more intimidating.

She could see the faint scar near his jaw and the cold calculation behind his eyes.

He lowered his voice.

"Three men just tried to kill you."

"I noticed."

"They know your name."

"I noticed that too."

"They know where you work."

Sofia said nothing.

"And they'll know where you live before midnight."

A chill ran through her.

"You don't know where I live."

"I do."

Her stomach dropped.

"How?"

Alessandro's expression didn't change.

"I've been watching you."

Sofia stared at him.

Every instinct told her to run.

Instead, she asked, "For how long?"

He didn't answer.

"Alessandro."

"Long enough."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting tonight."

She laughed once, incredulously.

"You expect me to trust a man who just admitted he's been watching me?"

"No."

He stepped closer.

"I expect you to understand that trust isn't what you need from me."

"Then what do I need?"

His eyes held hers.

"Protection."

Sofia shook her head.

"I can protect myself."

"You couldn't protect yourself tonight."

The words stung because they were true.

"I don't need a bodyguard."

"You need more than one."

"I have pepper spray."

For the first time, the corner of his mouth moved.

"I noticed."

She folded her arms.

"You're making fun of me."

"No."

"You almost smiled."

"I assure you, Miss Moretti, I don't smile."

"How tragic."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Sofia wasn't sure whether she had just amused him or annoyed him.

Perhaps both.

Then his expression changed.

The amusement disappeared.

He looked at her with an intensity that made her stomach tighten.

"Your father left something behind."

Sofia's heart stopped.

"What?"

"A debt."

"My father didn't owe anyone anything."

"You're wrong."

"My father was a businessman."

"Your father was many things."

Alessandro reached inside his coat.

Sofia tensed.

He slowly removed a small photograph.

He held it out.

Sofia hesitated before taking it.

The photograph was old.

The edges were worn.

Her fingers trembled.

She looked down.

And forgot how to breathe.

There she was.

Young.

Perhaps twelve years old.

Standing in a garden she didn't recognize.

Beside her stood a boy.

Sixteen, maybe.

Dark-haired.

Serious.

She stared at the boy.

Then at Alessandro.

The resemblance was unmistakable.

Her eyes lifted slowly.

"Where did you get this?"

Alessandro didn't answer.

She looked at the photograph again.

"I don't remember this."

"I know."

"Who took it?"

"Your father."

Sofia's fingers tightened around the photograph.

"Why don't I remember you?"

His expression became unreadable.

"Because someone made sure you wouldn't."

A silence fell between them.

Rain continued to fall around them.

Sofia looked at the photograph once more.

Then she looked at the man standing in front of her.

The stranger who knew where she lived.

The stranger who had been watching her.

The stranger who somehow knew her father.

"Why are you helping me?"

Alessandro held her gaze.

"Because eleven years ago, your father made me promise."

Sofia frowned.

"What promise?"

His jaw tightened.

Then, quietly, he said,

"He asked me to keep you alive."

Sofia stared at him.

"And did you agree?"

Alessandro's eyes darkened.

"I was sixteen."

He paused.

"I said yes."

Sofia looked at the photograph.

She didn't know what frightened her more.

The men who had tried to kill her.

The secrets her father had taken to his grave.

Or the possibility that the man standing in front of her had been waiting for eleven years to keep a promise she had never known existed.