Chapter Master Dante Novels & Stories

I ask. "The doctor announces that you need to take vitamins and eat your food properly. He said you hadn't had any proper food for five days. So childish right? I won't eat till I get my share back. I will hate Dante till my father gives me something. I will skip meals and die to punish them. Grow up." He says.

Chapter 5: The Breaking Point "Where is he, Dante?" I held the silver charm up, the blood on the leather cord still tacky, staining my trembling fingers. The scream from the basement had faded into a wet, rhythmic thumping that vibrated through the floorboards. Dante didn't flinch. He sat back in his leather chair, the light from the desk lamp carving his face into sharp, unforgiving angles. He picked up a crystal tumbler and swirled the amber liquid inside. The ice clinked—a cold, final sound.

Althea replied. “He is not just my enemy,” Dante said. “He is chaos.” Althea frowned. “What do you mean?” “He doesn’t want power,” Dante explained. “He doesn’t want money. He doesn’t want territory.” “Then what does he want?” Dante’s voice lowered. “He wants to watch everything burn.” Althea felt a chill run down her spine. “He is using you,” Dante continued. “Maybe,” Althea said quietly. “But that doesn’t change what you did.”

***** 'The Master's Child' Concludes In 'Natale'

Chapter 4: The Mark of the Romanovs ​The master suite doors slammed shut, locking us in. ​Dante didn’t let go of my wrist. He hauled me toward the center of the room, his grip like a shackle. ​"Let go!" I shoved at his chest, my palms hitting cold, damp silk. "I saved your men at the bridge. I kept you from being blown to pieces. Is this how you say thank you?" ​Dante didn't answer. He never did. He just stared at me, his eyes dark with a look I couldn't decipher.

Chapter 77. Author's Pov. Dante sat on the couch in his room and his eyes pierced through the sky in a bid to find solace. A knock came in on his door and he replied curtly. "Come in. " Dan walked in and he bowed "My lord. I have a few men from the D and A clan. You might want me to use them to lure Alcantara into your doom." The room went silent for a while as Dante allowed the words to consume him, his eyes rippled into the stars and he let out a whisper at the time he found it convenient.

That was the last thing she wanted to do, she wasn't about to cry in front of this man. “Your papa isn't going to help you no matter how much you beg, you're mine now.” Chiara remained quiet. She squirmed which only made him tighten his grip. “My name's Dante Sabatini but you can call me Sir or better yet... Master.” He chuckled at Chiara's continued silence, looking at Lorenzo who could only watch. “I'll come for her tomorrow, so she better be ready.” “Y-yes.” Lorenzo muttered nervously, his gaze not meeting Dante's

Coming from Dante, this qualified as great praise. "I have a good teacher," she replied, raising her sword in preparation for his next attack. Dante stilled suddenly, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something she couldn't hear. His expression shifted, brows drawing together in a slight frown. A small flame appeared in the air between them, startling Madeleine enough that she nearly dropped her sword. The flame expanded, forming the shape of a letter sealed with a symbol she didn't recognize—three intertwined circles. The fiery parchment floated serenely toward Dante, who plucked it from the air with a swift motion.

"And I will worship every shard of the wreckage." Minutes later, they stood before the heavy iron doors of the chapel. Dante’s arm was still bandaged where Ivy had scratched him, the dark fluid having finally slowed. He pulled a silver dagger from his belt—the ritualistic key mentioned in the 1890 documents. "Your blood, Dante," Ivy whispered, her voice trembling as the cold wind whipped her hair around her face. "The 'Drained Master.' It’s the only way the mechanism recognizes the transition of power." Dante looked at her, his eyes softening for a fleeting, tragic second. "If I open this, Ivy, there is no going back to the Palisades. There is no going back to the man you thought I was. We w

The scrunch between my brows is back, confusion paints my features as I do my best to take in this new information. Dante takes a few steps forward and I let him, curiosity winning me over. “Dante is the name of my master, as is the name of his master before him, as would the person who would succeed me. The name Dante…” he pauses, shaking his head as if he can’t believe he’s explaining this to me in the middle of a rainstorm atop a mountain road. “It’s a title, Jean. It’s a title bestowed upon the leader of the D’Angelo family.”