THE DEVIL'S LAST VOW

PROLOGUE

DANTE POV

The first body hit the floor at 11:47 p.m.

I remember the time because I remember everything that happens before someone dies.

The sound of the rain against the windows.

The glass of whiskey sitting untouched beside my hand.

The old clock above the fireplace ticking like it had nowhere else to be.

And the photograph lying on my desk. Victor Vale.

I hadn't seen that photograph in years.

Until tonight.

I stared at the man's face and felt something I hadn't allowed myself to feel since I was nineteen.

Fear. Not for me.

For his daughter.

My phone vibrated.

Once. Then again. I ignored it.

The third time, I answered.

"What?" Luca's voice came through the line.

"We have a problem."

I looked toward the body on the floor.

"You have five seconds."

"Someone attacked the west warehouse."

"How many?"

"Seven men."

"Dead?"

"Three." I stood.

"And the others?"

"Missing." That wasn't what bothered me.

"Who ordered the attack?"

"We don't know."

I looked back at the photograph.

Victor Vale's expression hadn't changed. Neither had mine.

"Find out."

"Dante—"

"Now." I ended the call.

The room became quiet again. Too quiet.

I picked up the photograph.

There was something written on the back.

A name. A date. And a warning.

MARA VALE.

My jaw tightened. I hadn't spoken her name in years. I had never even met her. At least, not officially.

But I knew exactly who she was. Victor Vale's daughter.

Twenty-four years old.

No criminal record.

No involvement in the family business.

No idea what her father had been hiding.

Or what he had been trying to protect her from.

I turned the photograph over. There was another message beneath her name.

Three words.

KEEP HER ALIVE.

I stared at them.

Then the lights went out. Every instinct in my body woke at once. I reached for the gun beneath my jacket. A second later, the first bullet tore through the window. I dropped behind the desk.

Glass exploded across the room.

Another shot.

Then another.

Someone wanted me dead.

That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the photograph still sitting in my hand. I looked down at Mara's name.

For the first time in years, the past had found its way back to me. And somehow, it had brought her with it.

My phone rang again. Luca.

I answered without speaking.

"Dante," he said, breathing hard. "You need to listen."

"I'm listening."

"We found the men who attacked the warehouse."

"And?"

"They weren't after the money." I frowned.

"What were they after?"

A pause.

Then Luca said the words that changed everything.

"Victor Vale's daughter." My fingers tightened around the photograph.

"Where is she?"

"We don't know."

I looked through the shattered window. Rain poured into the room. Somewhere in this city, Mara Vale was going to sleep tonight believing she was safe. She wasn't. And neither was I.

Because whoever had started this game had just made one mistake.

They had put her name in my hands.

And once something belonged to me, I didn't let anyone take it away.

Not even the devil himself.