Dante 101 Dalmatian Street Novels & Stories

He couldn't He was Dante, my first friend and my first crush. The drive lasted nearly an hour. The roads grew narrower, and the night grew darker. Then we turned onto a long dirt path lined with trees. At the end was a small cabin, with nothing else around for miles. "Dante... where are we?" He turned off the engine, and the silence that followed was terrifying. He offered me a smile, the same gentle smile I had loved for years, but now, it didn't reach his eyes. "Lombardy. We're safe now."

That at least gave me the strength to want to keep going. "Believe it or not, neonata...” Dante whispered, running his finger over my lower back “I am even luckier knowing that I have a mate who is more than willing to stand strong beside me, fighting the battles that we both know are painful. You didn’t lose yourself or your morals despite everything that you’ve seen and been through, and that only proves to me how beautiful your heart is”

It had infected her. Dante moved through the streets as the first sirens began to wail in the distance. He didn't take cover. He walked down the center of the boulevard, his heavy boots echoing against the abandoned cars. He was hallucinating now. The scent of her—lavender and cold rain—was so strong he could almost taste it. He reached out into the empty air, his fingers curling as if they were tangling in her hair.

Once the elevator opened once more, I walked into the second floor of the apartment building, which belonged to Dante, and I didn't dare venture further in my current state. Dante emerged from one of the apartments, a phone pressed to his ear as he paced slightly. His white shirt, half-heartedly pulled on with one hand, hung loosely, revealing a red-inked tattoo that adorned his bare skin. With his red hair and fair complexion, he was the tamer version of Leonardo but they all shared that dangerous air around them, especially when they were pissed.

She leaves without another word. And I’m left with the silence. Later, Dante shows up again. He’s carrying a bag of pastries and wearing a grin that means he’s about to say something stupid. “You look like someone just told you your dog died,” he says, flopping onto the couch. “I don’t have a dog.” “Exactly. That’s how bad you look.” I take a pastry. “Adelina came by.” Dante groans. “She still thinks she’s your future?” “She knows she’s not.”

Even Maria from the bakery walked out of her shop. Dante Valenti, heir to a mafia family, was soaking wet right now. His face was covered in petals and blood, standing at the gate of a lemon grove in a small Sicanian town. He looked like a stray dog someone threw water on. He stood there stiff, face flushed red. Without saying a word, he climbed into his car and drove off like he was fleeing. That night, a call came from an unknown number. I thought it was the agricultural technician I had consulted, so I picked up.

I was done. I was completely, thoroughly, irreversibly done. God— What a perfect day to be doomed. ************* The rain was falling even harder by the time we finally arrived. The sound of it drumming against the windshield filled the car as Liam slowly pulled over in front of the massive gates of Dante's mansion. For the first time since I'd gotten into the stranger's car, I felt a tiny bit of peace. Because Liam really knew where Dante lived. He actually knew the house.

He is concerned about me. "Come, baby, it is enough for one night. Let's go to the deck. The cleaning-up crew is going to start cleaning up now. There is nothing more for us to do here. Come on, let me go and give you a glass of wine. It will make you relax," Dante says. I have seen many things in my life, but nothing like this. I have seen people being shot in the street. I stayed in one of the world's neighbourhoods in the country. However, I have never seen somebody die so viciously.

They guide me up the stairs, and I step inside. Dante is already seated. He's in casual but sharp wear. A charcoal hoodie, blue jeans and no jacket. There’s a laptop open in front of him, and he’s mid-call, speaking Italian, gesturing wildly. He doesn’t even flinch at the sight of me. His eyes just shift to me and he nods, then returns to looking at his laptop as he argues. I walk to the far end of the cabin and take the seat furthest from him. And I don’t breathe until I’m buckled in.

She wondered but he was long gone. Diablo walked down the stairs but rather than going through the clustered bodies, he turned to his right, walking to the far end of the room. There were many couples making out in the semi dark hallway but they weren’t his business and he seemed to have in mind where he was going. He opened a door and was outside in a dark alley, he brought out his phone and dialed a number but the person wasn’t answering. He dialed again and right waiting for the person to answer, he heard a commotion inside and turned in speed to the door, bending over immediately to duck a bullet sent at him. “Fuck,” he cursed, shoving his phone into his pocket and pulling out his sliver