Chapter 4 The Devil's Bargain

Alessia's fingers trembled as she held the silver pocket watch. The metal was cool against her skin, but it might as well have been burning hot. Her heart hammered against her ribcage as she stared at the photograph inside.

It wasn't the picture she expected to see-not the one of her mother that her father had cherished. Instead, it showed two men sitting across from each other at a metal table. One was her father, Antonio Ricci, his face gaunt but his eyes still sharp despite the prison uniform. The other was Dante Castello, looking exactly as he did now, except his expression in the photo was softer, more human than she'd ever seen.

"This is impossible," she whispered, her voice barely audible in Dante's expansive office. The moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows cast long shadows across the room, making the space feel both intimate and threatening at once.

"I assure you, it's very real," Dante replied, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey. He stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the city lights behind him. "That photo was taken eight months ago."

Alessia looked up sharply, her emerald eyes narrowing. "You expect me to believe you've been visiting my father in prison? The man your family murdered everyone else to get to?"

A muscle in Dante's jaw twitched-the only sign that her words had affected him. "My father murdered your family, Alessia. Not me."

"Same blood," she spat.

"And yet, here we are." Dante moved away from the window, approaching his desk with languid confidence. "Your father is alive because I've been ensuring his protection for the past seven years."

Alessia closed the watch with a snap and placed it on his desk, careful not to let their fingers touch. "Why?" The question hung between them, heavy with suspicion.

"Because I need what only he knows," Dante replied, settling into his leather chair. "And I need you to help me get it."

"What could my father possibly know that the great Dante Castello couldn't discover on his own?" Alessia asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm even as her mind raced through possibilities.

Dante leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. In the dim light, his eyes looked almost black, bottomless pools that threatened to drown her. "He knows who really orchestrated the hit on your family. And it wasn't just my father."

Alessia felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath her. Seven years of certainty-of knowing exactly who her enemies were-suddenly felt like quicksand.

"You're lying," she said, but the conviction in her voice had weakened.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Alessia. Not anymore." Dante's voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "My father is dying. Cancer. He has maybe six months left. When he dies, I take control of everything. But there are things happening within our organization-within this city-that threaten both of us."

Alessia's mind flashed to the files she'd discovered during her explorations of the mansion. Reports that didn't quite match up, money flowing in directions that made no sense. "The discrepancies in your books," she murmured.

A ghost of a smile touched Dante's lips. "I knew you were good, but you're even better than I expected."

"Flattery won't get you what you want, Castello."

"No, but mutual survival might." He pushed a folder across the desk toward her. "My father hasn't been acting alone. Someone has been pulling strings from the shadows for years-the same someone who wanted your father eliminated but has kept him alive as leverage."

Alessia didn't touch the folder. "And what do you want from me?"

"An alliance." The word hung in the air between them. "Work with me, not against me. Help me uncover who's been manipulating both our families, and I promise you'll get what you came for."

"Which is what, exactly?"

Dante's eyes locked with hers. "Revenge. Justice. The crown you came to steal."

A cold laugh escaped her lips. "And I'm supposed to trust you? The son of the man who murdered my mother?"

"No," Dante replied simply. "You don't have to trust me. Trust your instincts. Trust what you've seen with your own eyes since you've been here." He gestured to the watch she'd placed on the desk. "Trust that I've kept your father alive when I could have let him die a hundred times over."

Alessia reached for the watch again, running her thumb over its engraved surface. Her father had once told her that sometimes the devil you know is better than the one you don't. But which devil was Dante?

"You don't have to decide right now," he said, his voice gentler than she'd heard before. "But know this-my father returns in three weeks. Once he's back, everything changes. If we're going to act, it needs to be before then."

The weight of his words pressed down on her. Three weeks. It wasn't enough time to complete her original mission, but perhaps enough to discover if Dante was telling the truth. If her father had indeed been protected by the very family she'd sworn to destroy, what did that mean for everything she believed?

"I need to think," she said finally.

Dante nodded. "Of course." He stood, towering over her even with the desk between them. "But remember, Miss Ricci-we're already dancing together, whether you like the music or not."

* * *

The crisp night air did little to clear Alessia's head as she made her way back to her apartment. The pocket watch felt heavy in her coat pocket, a physical reminder of the choice she now faced. Her mind replayed the conversation with Dante over and over, searching for cracks in his story, for signs that he was manipulating her.

But what if he wasn't? What if everything she thought she knew was wrong?

She glanced around habitually as she approached her building, checking for surveillance or followers-a habit ingrained by Marco from her earliest training. Speaking of Marco...

He was waiting for her in her apartment, sitting in darkness until she flipped on the light. His weathered face was drawn with concern.

"You're late," he said by way of greeting.

Alessia removed her coat, hanging it carefully to hide her trembling hands. "Castello kept me longer than expected."

Marco's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

For a moment, Alessia considered lying. It would be safer. Simpler. But Marco had been more than her mentor for the past seven years-he'd been her only family. The only person she trusted completely.

Wordlessly, she withdrew the pocket watch and handed it to him.

Marco's face transformed as he recognized the object, his fingers caressing the silver as reverently as she had. When he opened it and saw the photo inside, however, his expression hardened into something Alessia didn't recognize.

"Where did you get this?" His voice was tight, controlled.

"Dante gave it to me tonight." She moved to the window, peering out at the city lights. "He says he's been protecting my father in prison. That there's someone else behind what happened to our family."

"And you believe him?" The disbelief in Marco's voice was palpable.

"I don't know what to believe anymore." She turned to face him. "He's offering an alliance, Marco. He wants my help to uncover whoever's been manipulating both families."

Marco closed the watch with a sharp snap. "This is a trap. He's trying to use you, just like his father used yours."

"But what if he's not?" Alessia challenged. "What if my father is alive because of him? Doesn't that change things?"

"It changes nothing!" Marco's voice rose, his control slipping. "The Castellos destroyed everything you had. Everything your father built. They are the enemy, Alessia. The only enemy that matters."

Alessia had never seen Marco this agitated before. It unsettled her. "My father is alive, Marco. That changes everything for me."

Marco stood, placing the watch on the coffee table between them. "Listen to me carefully, Alessia. Dante Castello is as dangerous as his father, perhaps more so because he hides it better. If you align with him, you're betraying everything we've worked for. Everything your father would want."

"You don't know what my father would want," she said quietly. "You haven't seen him in seven years."

The words hung in the air, sharp as blades. Marco's expression softened slightly. "I raised you, trained you, kept you safe when no one else could. I did it because I loved your father like a brother, and I love you like a daughter. Don't throw away everything we've built on the word of a Castello."

Guilt twisted in Alessia's stomach, but something else pushed against it-a certainty that there was more to the story than she knew. More than even Marco might know.

"I'm not throwing anything away," she said finally. "I'm gathering information. If Dante is lying, I'll have more evidence to use against him. If he's telling the truth..." She let the sentence hang unfinished.

Marco approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Promise me you won't agree to anything without consulting me first. Promise me you'll remember who you are-a Ricci, not a Castello pawn."

"I know exactly who I am," Alessia replied, the steel returning to her voice. "I'm the daughter of the Ghost King. And I will have justice for my family, no matter what path leads me there."

Marco's grip tightened briefly before he released her. "Just be sure it's justice you find, not damnation." He moved toward the door. "I need to make some calls. We need to verify this information about your father."

After he left, Alessia returned to the window, staring out at the city that had once belonged to her family. Her reflection stared back at her, superimposed over the glittering lights-a ghost haunting her own life.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone, typing a message to Dante:

*I'll hear you out. No promises beyond that.*

His reply came seconds later, as if he'd been waiting:

*Tomorrow. Noon. My office. Come alone.*

Alessia closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her decision. She was walking into the spider's web willingly now, but with her eyes open. If Dante Castello thought she would be easy prey, he would soon learn that even ghosts had claws.

* * *

The next morning, Alessia awoke before dawn, her dreams haunted by images of her father behind bars and Dante Castello sitting across from him like an old friend. She dressed carefully in a charcoal gray suit with a blood-red blouse-armor for the battle ahead.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Marco:

*My sources confirm A.R. is still in Blackgate. No confirmation on visits from D.C. Be careful today.*

She typed back a quick acknowledgment, then tucked the phone away. Marco's sources were good, but they wouldn't have access to the kind of high-level information needed to track private visits to a maximum-security prisoner.

At precisely noon, Alessia stepped off the elevator onto Dante's floor of the Castello corporate headquarters. His assistant, a severe-looking woman with impeccable taste, nodded once in recognition.

"He's expecting you, Miss Bianchi. Or should I say, Miss Ricci?"

Alessia's stride faltered for only a moment. "Does everyone in this building know who I am?"

"Only those who need to." The woman's expression remained neutral as she opened Dante's office door. "Mr. Castello values discretion above all else."

Dante was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows when she entered, his back to the door. Unlike the previous night, the office was now flooded with sunlight, making it seem less like a predator's den and more like the command center it truly was.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said without turning.

"I'm not in the habit of breaking appointments," Alessia replied, remaining near the door.

Dante turned then, his dark eyes assessing her from head to toe. "No, I imagine you're quite reliable. It's one of the reasons I need you."

"You don't need me," she countered. "You need what I know."

A smile touched his lips. "Perhaps it's both."

He gestured to a seating area away from his desk, more casual with a leather sofa and armchairs arranged around a low table. Already laid out were files, photographs, and what appeared to be financial records.

"Shall we?" he asked, moving toward the arrangement.

Alessia approached cautiously, choosing the armchair that gave her the clearest path to the door. Old habits from Marco's training. Always have an exit strategy.

"Before we begin," she said, "I want proof that what you showed me last night is real. That my father is alive and that you've been in contact with him."

Dante nodded as if he'd expected this. He reached for a tablet on the table, tapped a few commands, and passed it to her. "This was recorded two weeks ago."

The video showed a prison visitation room. Her father sat on one side of a table, his prison uniform hanging loose on his once-powerful frame. Across from him sat Dante, speaking in low tones. The video had no audio, but she could see her father's expressions clearly-guarded at first, then animated as the conversation progressed. At one point, he even smiled.

"Why is there no sound?" she asked suspiciously.

"Security," Dante replied simply. "What we discuss isn't for anyone else's ears-not even my most trusted people." He leaned forward. "But if you want verification of his condition, call the number I've saved in your phone under 'Legal Counsel.' It's a direct line to a guard I pay. He'll confirm your father's status."

Alessia's eyebrows rose. "You've been in my phone?"

Dante shrugged unapologetically. "I've been in every aspect of your life since you arrived in New York, Alessia. It's what I do." His expression turned serious. "Just as you've been exploring every corner of my operations. We're both professionals. Let's not pretend otherwise."

She couldn't argue with that. Setting the tablet aside, she fixed him with a steely gaze. "Alright. My father is alive, and you have access to him. That still doesn't explain why you need me."

Dante leaned back in his seat, studying her with those dark, penetrating eyes. "Because your father trusts you. Because you have skills I need. And because when my father returns, he'll recognize you immediately, and I need to know you're on my side when that happens."

"I'll never be on your side," Alessia said reflexively.

"Then let's say we're on the same side of a different battle." Dante picked up one of the files and handed it to her. "This is what I've discovered so far about the inconsistencies in our organization's finances. Money disappearing from certain operations, reappearing in accounts I don't control."

Alessia opened the file, her trained eye immediately catching the patterns. "Someone's siphoning funds from your more legitimate businesses and funneling them into offshore accounts." She looked up. "That's hardly unusual in your line of work."

"True," Dante conceded. "Except I'm not the one doing it, and neither is my father."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because whoever's doing this is also filtering money into accounts connected to the men who carried out the hit on your family." He produced another file. "Men who supposedly worked for my father but were actually contracted through a shell company that traces back to someone called 'The Council.'"

Alessia's blood ran cold at the mention of the name. She'd heard whispers of The Council during her training with Marco-a shadowy group that supposedly controlled crime across multiple states-but had always dismissed it as a myth, a bogeyman that criminals blamed for their own failings.

"You can't be serious," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"I've never been more serious." Dante gathered several more files. "These contain everything I've been able to piece together over the past three years. Bank records, communications, surveillance photos. All pointing to the same conclusion-someone has been using the Castello-Ricci feud as cover for their own operations."

Alessia's mind raced as she flipped through the documents. The evidence was substantial, too detailed to be fabricated easily. If true, it meant that both her family and Dante's had been manipulated for years, possibly decades.

"What does my father say about this?" she asked finally.

"He was skeptical at first, just as you are." Dante's voice softened slightly. "But as I showed him more evidence, he began to corroborate with details from his own experience. Meetings that seemed off, decisions Salvatore made that didn't align with their previous agreements."

"And what exactly do you want from me?" Alessia closed the file, fixing him with a hard stare. "Beyond information from my father that you could get yourself."

Dante held her gaze. "I want a partner, Alessia. Someone who understands both sides of this war. Someone with the skills to help me bring down the real enemy." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Someone who has as much to gain from the truth as I do."

The intensity in his eyes was unsettling, a magnetic pull she forced herself to resist. "And once we find this 'real enemy,' what then? We shake hands and go our separate ways?"

A dangerous smile curved his lips. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Alessia knew she was at a crossroads. Working with Dante meant betraying everything Marco had taught her, everything she'd believed for seven years. But refusing meant potentially missing the chance to discover the whole truth about her family's destruction.

"I need to think," she said again, rising from her seat.

Dante stood as well, towering over her without seeming to try. "Of course. But remember, the clock is ticking. When my father returns, everything changes."

"You keep saying that," she noted. "What exactly are you afraid your father will do?"

Dante's expression darkened, a glimpse of the predator behind the polished exterior. "Kill anyone who threatens his legacy, including me. Including your father. Including you."

The blunt assessment sent a chill down her spine. "I'll let you know my decision by tomorrow," she said, moving toward the door.

"One more thing," Dante called after her. When she paused, he added, "While you're considering my offer, remember that your continued access to this building-to me-depends on your answer. If you decline, Sofia Bianchi will need to disappear as quickly as she appeared."

The threat was clear, but Alessia refused to show fear. "Is that supposed to frighten me, Castello?"

"No," he replied calmly. "It's meant to remind you that neither of us can afford to return to our previous positions. We move forward together, or we lose everything separately."

* * *

Marco was pacing her apartment when she returned, his agitation visible in every movement.

"Well?" he demanded the moment she walked through the door.

Alessia removed her jacket slowly, gathering her thoughts. "He has evidence suggesting someone called 'The Council' manipulated both families. That they were behind the hit on my family, using Salvatore Castello as cover."

Marco froze mid-step, his face draining of color.

"You've heard of them," Alessia observed, watching his reaction carefully.

Marco recovered quickly, his expression hardening. "Rumors, ghost stories to scare young soldiers. Nothing real."

But Alessia had seen his initial reaction. "You're lying to me, Marco."

"I'm protecting you," he countered, his voice rising. "Dante Castello is playing you, Alessia! He's trying to drive a wedge between us because he knows I can see through his deception."

"Then explain this," she challenged, pulling out her phone and showing him the video of her father and Dante.

Marco watched the silent footage, his jaw clenching visibly. "This proves nothing except that Dante has access to your father. It could be coercion, manipulation-"

"My father doesn't look coerced," Alessia interrupted. "He looks... comfortable with Dante. Why would that be, Marco? Why would my father be on seemingly friendly terms with the son of the man who supposedly destroyed his family?"

Marco turned away, running a hand through his graying hair. "Because your father is a practical man. He's playing whatever angle he can to stay alive."

"Or because Dante is telling the truth, and there's more to the story than you've told me." The accusation hung in the air between them.

"I've told you everything I know," Marco insisted, turning back to face her. "Everything that matters."

"The Council matters," Alessia pressed. "If they exist, if they were behind what happened to my family, that matters."

Marco's expression turned pleading. "Listen to me, Alessia. Even if-and that's a massive if-there is some shadow organization pulling strings, the Castellos are still the ones who carried out the hits. Salvatore Castello still gave the order that killed your mother, that would have killed your father if he hadn't been arrested first. That reality doesn't change."

"But it changes everything about why," Alessia argued. "And it changes what I need to do now."

Marco's eyes widened. "You can't seriously be considering his offer."

"I'm considering all my options," she replied evenly. "Just like you taught me to do."

"I taught you to recognize a trap," Marco snapped. "This has trap written all over it."

Alessia moved to the window, looking out at the city as she had the night before. "Maybe," she conceded. "But it also offers answers I've been seeking for seven years. Access I wouldn't have otherwise."

"At what cost?" Marco's voice was quiet now, defeated. "Your allegiance to your father's memory? Your loyalty to me?"

She turned to face him, her resolve hardening. "My loyalty is to the truth, Marco. To justice for my family. If working with Dante Castello temporarily gets me closer to that, then yes, I'll do it."

"And when he betrays you? When he uses whatever information you give him to destroy what's left of your father's legacy?"

"Then I'll destroy him," Alessia said simply. "Just as I've always planned to do."

Marco studied her face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You've made your decision, then."

"I have." She approached him, taking his hands in hers. "But I need you with me on this, Marco. I need your experience, your guidance. I can't do this alone."

The conflict played out across his weathered features. Finally, he squeezed her hands. "You never have to do anything alone, Alessia. I promised your father I would protect you, and I will-even from yourself if necessary."

The words should have been comforting, but something in his tone sent a sliver of unease through her. Before she could analyze it further, he released her hands and moved toward the door.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Dante Castello didn't earn his reputation by being trustworthy."

"I know exactly who he is," Alessia assured him. "I won't forget it for a moment."

After Marco left, Alessia sat at her small desk and began writing notes on everything she'd learned. The Council. The financial discrepancies. Her father's apparent comfort with Dante. All pieces of a puzzle she was only beginning to see the shape of.

When her phone buzzed with a text, she wasn't surprised to see Dante's name:

*Have you decided?*

She considered making him wait until tomorrow as she'd planned, but what was the point? She knew what she had to do.

*Yes. I'm in.*

His reply came immediately:

*Good. Be ready at 7AM tomorrow. We're going to visit a friend of mine who has information about The Council. Wear something that allows you to move. And Alessia?*

She waited for the next message:

*Trust no one but me until this is over. Not even those you've always trusted before.*

Alessia stared at the cryptic warning, a chill settling in her bones. What did Dante know about Marco that she didn't? Or was this just another manipulation, designed to isolate her from her only ally?

She placed her phone face-down on the desk without replying. The devil's bargain was struck. Now she would see what hell it would lead her to-and whether she could emerge unburned.

As darkness fell outside her window, Alessia opened the silver pocket watch once more, studying the image of her father and Dante. There was something in her father's expression she hadn't noticed before-a weariness beyond prison, beyond years of separation from his family and empire. It was the look of a man who had carried a secret for too long.

"What aren't you telling me, Papa?" she whispered to the silent image.

The watch offered no answers, only the steady tick of time moving forward, carrying her toward a destiny she could neither predict nor escape.

The crown she had come to steal now seemed further away than ever, obscured by shadows she was only beginning to understand. But one thing was certain-her path now lay alongside Dante Castello, the devil she thought she knew, but was only just beginning to understand.