Chapter 1: The Deal
Cassian Moretti doesn't make threats.
He makes promises.
And he keeps every single one.
Raven Cross doesn't believe in saints.
She believes in knives.
And unpaid debts.
---
He finds her on the roof.
Midnight.
Rain slick on the concrete.
Wind tearing at her hair.
A bottle of cheap whiskey in her hand.
"Your father's dead," Cassian says.
His voice doesn't carry.
It lands.
Heavy.
Final.
Like a gavel in a courtroom where he owns the judge.
Raven doesn't turn around.
"Good," she says. "Hope it hurt."
---
Cassian steps closer.
His shoes make no sound.
His shadow does.
He sets a ledger on the ledge beside her.
Black leather.
Gold trim.
The Moretti family crest burned into the cover.
Two hands.
One holding a knife.
One holding a crown.
He flips it open.
Page 47.
Her father's signature, shaky from whatever was in his veins that night.
Page 48.
Her name.
Raven Cross.
Written in red ink.
$4.6 million.
Transferred to Cassian Moretti upon default.
"He called it a loan," Cassian says. "I call it a purchase agreement. He defaulted. You're the payment."
---
Raven finally looks at him.
Black eyes.
Black dress torn at the hem.
Scar on her bottom lip.
His teeth.
From the night she broke into his penthouse with a blade.
From the night he caught her wrist, pulled her close, and said:
"Do it harder."
"You can't buy people," she says.
Cassian crouches until they're eye level.
He smells like expensive whiskey and the kind of funerals nobody cries at.
"I buy judges," he says.
"I buy cops."
"I buy the last breath a man takes before I decide he's done."
His eyes lock onto hers.
"You think you're different because you bleed prettier?"
---
He holds out his hand.
Palm up.
A thin white scar cuts across it.
Her knife.
His blood.
"One year," Cassian says.
"You live in my estate."
"My rules."
At the end, the debt is gone.
"You walk..."
His gaze darkens.
"...or you wear my last name."
"Your choice."
---
Raven takes a long pull from the bottle.
Then she pours the rest onto the ledger.
Whiskey soaks the pages.
The ink doesn't run.
"Third option," she says.
"I put you in the ground next to him."
---
Cassian smiles.
Not human.
Cassian human.
The kind of smile that gets men killed in back alleys.
"Try," he says.
"If you can kill me, you're free."
"If you can't..."
His eyes travel over her.
"...you're consort."
"The Moretti family doesn't keep prisoners, Raven."
"We keep queens."
---
She moves.
Fast.
The knife is out of her boot and at his throat before the rain hits the ledger.
Cassian doesn't flinch.
Doesn't blink.
He leans into the blade.
Skin splits.
Blood wells.
A slow line of red slides down his neck and disappears into his collar.
Red on white.
His.
"Do it," he whispers.
"Make me a martyr."
"Or make me a husband."
"Either way, you'll remember this night."
---
Raven's hand shakes.
Not from fear.
From the way he's looking at her.
Like she's already his.
Like she was always going to be.
She pulls the knife back.
"Not an angel, Cassian."
"I know," he says.
---
He touches the cut on his throat.
Looks at his fingers.
Blood and rain.
Then he looks at her like she's the only clean thing in his world.
"Moretti men don't marry angels."
A faint smile.
"We marry wars."
"And you, Raven Cross..."
His voice drops.
"...are a battlefield I want to die on."
---
He stands.
Towers over her.
Rain slides down his face, but he doesn't wipe it away.
"Sunrise," he says.
"My car will be on the street."
"Run, and I'll turn this city inside out until I find you."
"Stay, and no one touches you without losing their hands."
"Choose."
---
He walks to the roof door.
Stops.
Doesn't look back.
"Devils don't get wings," he says.
"But in my house..."
His hand closes around the handle.
"...they get everything else."
The door slams.
---
Raven stares at the ledger.
At the city that belongs to him.
At the knife in her hand.
His blood on the blade.
She brings it to her mouth.
And licks it clean.
Metal.
Salt.
Cassian.
---
Sunrise in five hours.
Because Raven Cross was never an angel.
And Cassian Moretti was never looking for salvation.
He was looking for a sin worth keeping.
