Chapter Master Dante Novels & Stories

On the table between them lay a thick leather-bound document. The original Verona charter. Dante rose slowly. He did not look surprised. He looked prepared. “Alessandro.” His voice carried the weight of habit. Authority worn into tone. Alessandro did not bow his head. “Father.” Not emotional. Not warm. Neutral. Dante’s gaze shifted to Elara. “And Mrs De Luca.” “Elara,” she corrected calmly. A flicker of approval—or assessment—moved across his face. “Of course.” They sat opposite him.

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.

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.”

“Boss, you know what waits for us if you go down this path you think is calling you.” “Do not lecture me, Luca.” “I am not.” “You are.” “No, I am not. I just wanted to remind you what is at stake if you get invested. Only weak men get invested.” “I am not weak,” Dante said through clenched teeth. He grabbed Luca by the collar and pulled him close. Luca raised his hands up in a surrender pose. That small gesture made Dante release him, but not before giving him the kind of stare that burned. “Get me what I need in forty eight hours,” Dante repeated. He walked to the door. “And clean this place up. It smells like sin.” Luca smirked and watched him walk out. Mother fucker, he thought.

Dante’s POV My gaze locked greedily on the sleek folds between her legs, that sweet little hole sitting there so inviting, practically begging me to stroke it, stretch it, work it until she was panting my name so loud it echoed through the hallway. My hand twitched with the urge, but I held back. This wasn’t about taking her. Not yet. This was about punishing her, breaking her. By the time I was done, she’d hand me every secret about her father herself.