Vows to the Devil

Maliya’s pov The coffin shouldn't have been closed. I stood in the front row, staring at the dark mahogany wood that hid my father's face forever. They said the bullets had done too much damage. They said I wouldn't want to see him like that. But I did want to see him. I wanted to see what they had done to him so I would never forget. The church was packed with bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. Everyone who mattered in our world was here, dressed in expensive black suits and designer dresses, whispering prayers they didn't mean. My mother sat beside me, her hand cold and trembling in mine. She hadn't spoken a word since yesterday morning when the police finished questioning her. I scanned the crowd slowly, taking inventory. Friends, enemies, allies,they all looked the same when they were pretending to mourn. But I knew half of them were here just to make sure Papa was really dead. To see the great Vincent Cruize reduced to nothing but a box and some flowers. "Vincent was a devoted father and husband," Father Martinez said from the altar, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "A pillar of our community who will be deeply missed." Liar, Papa was many things, but a pillar of the community wasn't one of them. He was ruthless when he needed to be. He was feared by his enemies and respected by his allies. He built an empire from nothing and ruled it with an iron fist. And he was mine. My protector, My teacher, My whole world. Now he was gone, and I was alone. Someone had killed him three nights ago. Shot him four times in his own study while I slept peacefully upstairs, dreaming about my wedding dress. By the time I found him the next morning, his blood had soaked deep into the Persian carpet he'd bought for my mother's birthday. There had been a single black rose lying on his mahogany desk, the killer's signature. I knew exactly who left black roses. The heavy church doors creaked open behind us. A ripple of whispers swept through the congregation as everyone turned to look. Through the doorway, I could see a sleek black Maserati parked at the curb. The kind of car only the De Luca family drove. My heart started pounding against my ribs. Lorenzo De Luca stepped out first,wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people made in three months. His dark hair was perfectly styled. "He was supposed to be my husband in exactly fourteen days. Our marriage would have united the Cruize and De Luca families, ending a war that had lasted twenty years and cost dozens of lives. Three months ago, I'd dreaded the arrangement. But Lorenzo had surprised me, he was gentle, I'd begun to think maybe an arranged marriage didn't have to mean a loveless one. Now I didn't know what we were to each other." Lorenzo walked down the center, his eyes fixed on the marble floor. He wouldn't look at me. When I had tried to call him yesterday after the police left, he hadn't answered. When I'd tried again this morning, his phone went straight to voicemail. Something was wrong, Lorenzo had always been cool and distant, but he'd never ignored me completely. Not when my father had just been murdered. But then I saw another figure emerging from the car, and my blood turned to ice. The entire church went dead silent. Rafael De Luca. Lorenzo's older brother. The prodigal son who had vanished five years ago after beating three rival soldiers to death with his bare hands in a warehouse. The one they whispered about in dark corners, calling him the Devil of Naples. The ghost who haunted our nightmares. The one who left black roses at crime scenes. He walked into the sacred space like he owned it, like God himself had invited him personally. His black hair was longer than I remembered, pushed back from a face. A thin scar ran from his left temple down to his jaw, new since I'd last seen him. His hands, I noticed, bore old knife wounds that had never healed properly, leaving white lines across his knuckles. Everyone moved out of his way instinctively, pressing against the pews like he carried some invisible disease. Even the old women who had known him since childhood crossed themselves as he passed. He stopped directly in front of my father's coffin. The silence stretched so tight I thought it might snap. My mother's fingernails dug into my palm. Rafael reached slowly into his jacket. I held my breath, half-expecting him to pull out a gun and finish whatever he'd started three nights ago. Instead, he withdrew a single black rose, its petals dark as midnight, and placed it gently on top of the polished casket. The same signature. The exact same flower that had been waiting on Papa's desk. Hot rage exploded through my chest. I shot to my feet so fast my chair scraped loudly against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the sanctuary like a gunshot. "You killed my father." My voice cut through the silence. Every head in the church turned toward me, but I only had eyes for Rafael. He looked up from the coffin slowly, his dark eyes finding mine. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look guilty or ashamed. He looked hungry. Like a predator that had just spotted its next meal. "Did I?" he asked. His voice was low and rough. It sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "You left your calling card. Everyone knows the black rose belongs to you." He took a step closer to me. I should have backed away, every survival instinct I had was screaming at me to run. But I planted my feet and lifted my chin. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid. "If I had killed your father, Maliya," he said, my name rolling off his tongue, "I wouldn't have left a rose." His eyes burned into mine, holding me captive. "That's not a warning. It's a message." "What message?" I demanded, my voice stronger than I felt. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I'd ever seen. He turned away from me and faced the congregation. Every person in the church held their breath, waiting to see what the Devil would do next. "The engagement between Lorenzo De Luca and Maliya Cruize is hereby dissolved," he announced, his voice carrying easily to every corner of the room. "Maliya will marry me instead. That's how this war ends." The church erupted into chaos. People gasped and whispered and shouted over each other. My mother's hand flew to her mouth, her face going white as paper. Lorenzo stepped forward like he wanted to protest, but one look from his brother stopped him cold. I couldn't breathe, Couldn't process what had just happened. Rafael turned back to me, closing the distance between us. He reached out and touched my cheek with one scarred finger, his skin rough against mine. "See you at the altar, princess." Then he walked out of the church like he hadn't just blown my entire world to pieces.