Dante Aphmau Novels & Stories

I said, and he looked away from me for a second. “The pack doctor did everything that she could. But he had a heart attack and she couldn’t save him. I am so sorry for your loss.” He said, his voice above a whisper as he spoke. I shook my head, refusing to believe that what he was saying was true, and he took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to speak when Alpha Stefano’s scent filled my nostrils. He walked inside the infirmary, his eyes wide with rage before he grabbed my arm just as Alpha Cosimo reached him.

Dante’s POV I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension. I had more important matters to deal with. I crossed the room and poured myself another drink, but just as I brought the glass to my lips, my phone buzzed on the desk. I grabbed it, already expecting bad news, but instead, what I saw made me pause. A news article, no, an entire exposé was spreading like wildfire across the media. ‘Dante Romano: The Enigmatic Philanthropist Behind the Shadows.’

Hearing this, Dante who was holding a spoon, clenched his grip so tight the spoon started bending. “Looks like we need to hire more men.” Dante responded with anger in his eyes. “Pietro, Vincenzo, I have a task for each of you.” *** Amelia had taken care of the hospital’s administration process with a huge frown on her face. They told her he was done getting the treatment and gave her his room number. Amelia wasted no time and opened the door. She saw Liam laying on the bed with fear on his eyes. Both of his legs were bandaged and his face were full of bruises.

"And Dante? What did you do with him?" The guard offered a thin, mirthless smile. "Mr. Moretti is currently being appraised. It turns out the 'Monster of the Alps' has a very high market value for those interested in neurological warfare." At the edge of the city, where the gleaming glass of the financial district gave way to the rusted skeletal remains of the shipping docks, Dante Moretti was undergoing a different kind of appraisal.

By bumping her intentionally, she was testing Ameira, to see if she would care for her and if so, she would save her and stop committing suicide. Dainiel Mendoza was indeed a strong person who was still fighting despite the pain she was in. She didn't dare to commit suicide because someone was stopping her, and it wasn't her family or her lover, but the creator of this world. That’s why Ameira asked her if she believed in God.

Seeing this, his harsh gaze softened but his jaws were still clenched with tension. No wonder Sarah was this petrified. I understand that he was already stressed with the zombie we’ve held captive down in the dungeons and with whatever conspiracy the Moon Howlers were up to but that doesn’t mean he’d just release all his pent up anger and frustration on a poor nurse. “I-I apologize for my incompetence, Alpha. I checked on him twice…” Sarah paused and then pleaded, “I swear his heart had stopped beating, Alpha.” “Then, where is he? Tell me! How did a lifeless corpse start moving on its own? Do you think I’m a fool? Are you trying to trick me?” Dalton bombarded her with questions.

* After a few hours of doing the numerous tests from blood to a ct to a PET scan, i was somehow seated, back in the same chair for the past one month and in front of this same man. "Dr Daniel" He gave me a much easier name to call as he had stared at the papers in his hands, perhaps the results of even the tests i had done the past week and he suddenly looked up, flittering his eyelashes. "Well is it working or— Is it or?" I paused as he looked back down and i pushed a lump down my throat, forcefully. I had looked back to make sure Mateo and Rafael weren't close by. I wasn't about to give them a reason to worry the more about me.

They switched on their flashlights and saw the purple skin color of the poor guy. “H-Help...” Alfarez was about to touch the poor guy when De Vega stopped him. “What? We need to help him. Do some basic procedures.” “Don’t.” De Vega said and looked at him with serious eyes. “It’s not just an ordinary disease. You might get infected if you touch or have physical contact with that man. We can’t do anything about it. Just leave it to the other guy who’s with him.” Timotheus stared at the man suffering from an unknown disease.

Anthony and Harrison had gone to contact their FBI connections, trying to track Antonio's helicopter. Finally, the doctor approached. "Mr. Romano," she addressed Dante, who immediately stood up. "How is he?" Dante asked. The tension that was in him was evident in every line of his body. "The surgery was successful and we’ve removed the bullet," Dr. Chen explained. "But he has lost a significant amount of blood and he needs a transfusion immediately." "I'll donate," Dante said without hesitation. Dr. Chen frowned. "It's not that simple. Mr. Valenti has a rare blood type. He’s AB negative. We don't have enough in our blood bank."

Kemi stood beside him, her sightless white eyes fixed directly on me, as if she could see the golden parasite growing inside my womb. And then there was Dante. He was sitting on a rusted crate, his shoulders slumped forward, his chest heaving with the effort of just existing in this thinning atmosphere. He looked so small. Without the "Alpha-Wolf" filling out his frame, without the tattoos pulsing with the rhythm of the moon, he looked like a man who had been hollowed out by a hurricane. He caught my gaze and gave me a weak thumbs-up—the same gesture he used back in the slums when we’d successfully swiped a canister of fuel from a Council transport.