Novel & Cerita Dante Aphmau

He smirks and winks. " So Damon what happened to you?" Antonio asks. " I was in a coma for over three years. The military didn't know about it. I found myself in Europe and I don't even know how. I woke up finally and I held the news of myself in Europe. It was a little town and some people took care of me. And then I battled PTSD for over two years. I was in Europe all these years. The family was nice, they helped me heal." Damon narrates as he looks between me and Gray again. Wow it's like Gray's looking at me. But just the older Gray with really nice stubble. Damon's cute and he looks pretty young to be twenty eight.

“Mhm.” “You’re annoying.” “And you hit people.” He said. “You deserved it,” I added. Surprisingly, the man laughed despite still looking mildly injured and annoyingly he was actually kind of attractive when he smiled. “I’m Dante, by the way,” he said finally. “Before you attack me again.” I hesitated before answering. “Zara.” “I know.” That made me pause. “You do?” He gave me a look. “You live in Matteo’s house. You think nobody talks?”

The Amalfi coast stretches below, glittering under the sunlight like the spoils of war. “Confirmed,” Dante says. “Sophia was right. The girl Camilla—she’s important to him.” A chuckle rises in my throat, low, satisfied.Of course she would be. I turn now, staring at the desk as I set my glass down. “She’s his chink,” I murmur. “His little crack in the armor.” Dante nods. “He came for her personally. Stormed the safe house, pulled her out himself. Didn't even try to hide how pissed he was.”

He firstly peeped through the tiny door hole but whoever was knocking was smart enough to shield his face from the angle of the door hole. “Who are you?” he asked from inside the house. “It’s me, Captain Depay.” “Captain Depay?” Surprised, he finally opened the door. Captain Depay quickly steps into the house once he opened the door. Once he got in, the stench from the house hit his nostril. He clenched his teeth stopping him from cursing out loud as he faced Detective Joha. “Detective Joha, how have you been?”

Claiming. “…you were already mine the moment you caught my attention.” Amara’s heart slammed against her ribs. Because the way he said it— It didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like a fact. --- Across the city— Dante was already moving. Fast. Ruthless. Unstoppable. “Find out who took her,” he snapped. One of his men hesitated. “There are… rumors.” Dante’s eyes darkened. “Speak.” “A man resurfaced,” he said carefully. “Someone older. Someone who—”

“Dante is dying, Alessia.” Alessia froze. The air went still. “…What?” she whispered. Mrs. Moretti met her eyes. “He has a heart condition. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. His heart is slowly failing—and stress makes it worse. Pain makes it worse. heartbreak makes it worse .. in fact, you make it worse.” Alessia’s mouth parted, but no words came out. Mrs. Moretti took a step closer. “And the sad part?” she said with a sharp breath. “He refused treatment at first. He said he didn’t care. He also said he had no reason to fight.”

It's telling me that there is something unusual about the auras these men emit. “ Yeah, it's her,” Santino voice is flat. He fixes me with a bored look. “ She must be brave if she thinks she can murder a dragon with a fork.” The rugged one laughs, and my eyes shoot back to him. He putts a large cigar to his lips, he takes a drag and the tip of glows orange as a thin plume of smock rises. He removes the cigar from his lips and puffs out some smock. The act makes him look so fucking sexy in all his muscle glory standing there.

Dante leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not ordinary, Amara.” She stepped back, overwhelmed. “You don’t even know me.” “I know enough.” ### **The Unspoken Truth** Dante closed the file with a swipe, and the hologram dissolved. “You needed to know,” he said. “If you are going to work with me — if you are going to stay close — you have to understand the risks.” “And what risks are those?” she asked softly. He turned away, staring at the massive digital map on the wall — a map showing red markers blinking across multiple countries.

The photo Alessandro gave her refused to leave her mind. Amara had stared at it for hours after the masquerade. The image of the bruised girl, the shadow of Dante behind her—gun in hand, expression unreadable—burned into her thoughts like acid. Is this the man I’m living with? She wasn’t naïve. She’d known from the beginning that Dante Moretti wasn’t just a mafia king—he was a killer, a man who ruled through fear, power, and precision.

Dante Yu is the physician in charge of monitoring my health. His father-Mr. Yu- was the doctor who treated me when I was young now that his father has retired, he is now the doctor in charge of monitoring and treating my ailment. Dante’s father is chinese and his mom is an american which made him a whiteasian. We were playmates when we were younger but as we grew older, we stopped talking to each other until he somehow became my doctor. As he glanced at my test results, his expression turned grim. “It’s bad isn’t it,” I said with a small smile, “looks like my days are coming to an end,”