Dante Devil May Cry Novels & Stories

Two guards stepped forward, their dark gazes sweeping over me. “State your business.” I lifted my hands slightly. “I came to negotiate.” They searched me. Smart men. But I hadn’t come armed. I was the weapon. One of them nodded and pushed the door open. I stepped inside and froze. Behind a sleek glass desk, dressed in black, sat Dante Castillo. The Devil of the Underworld. I knew him as the most ruthless man alive. A legend in criminal circles. A man whose empire was so tightly woven that even governments feared him.

Her fingers brushed his cheek, still warm but pale, and something inside her cracked. Tears began to slip from her eyes—slow, silent, and heavy. She hovered over him, her chest heaving, her mind screaming. Please... don’t die on me. But across the room stood the devil himself. DANTE. Unbothered. Cold. Detached. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t even look at Damon bleeding to death. Instead, he stood before the wall like it was a gallery—staring at the photographs of her. His fingers held a cigarette lazily, smoke curling into the dim air like poison.

he probed. My gaze forcefully trailed up from the movement of his fingers on the zip of his pants, “That’s not… Not what I’m talking about.” “Then what?” Despite the fact that we hadn’t concluded on the conversation, Dante got up from the bed and for a moment I thought he was angry, but every single word stuck to my throat faded so easily when he tugged his pants down and I saw the intricate, and neat font two word line tattoo below his hip bone. I could only see the first word which read: ‘Sin.’

But I'd been rebuilt into something stronger, something that could kill without hesitation when my family was threatened. Another soldier tried to flank me. I spun and caught him with my claws, opening his stomach from hip to ribs. His intestines spilled out in steaming loops and he fell screaming. Ahead of me, Dante fought in his full hybrid form and it was terrifying to watch. He stood nearly eight feet tall, his body massive with corded muscle beneath fur that seemed to absorb light. His claws were longer than my fingers, dripping with blood and viscera. A terrifying force of nature that decimated anyone who stood against him.

CHAPTER 2: The Leaked Videos. (Vincenzo’s POV) Last night, I was upstairs in the VIP lounge, nursing a glass of whiskey that had long since lost its burn. The lights were dim, the air saturated with perfume, lies, and secrets. The waitress had brought me my drink, but my mood was already poisoned. All I could think about was that girl... the one who dared to yell at me outside like I was some street rat. "Are you blind?" she’d said.

Vito continued, “Stay the fuck away from everything I own. You look in their direction again, you breathe in their air, and the next time I walk into one of your places, I won’t be alone. And you won’t be breathing. Do you understand me?” Matteo’s jaw worked back and forth. He glanced at the laptop screen again, watching Vito’s men laugh and relax on camera, completely oblivious. “You fucked up first.” He muttered finally. “You played me.” Vito pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down like he had all the time in the world. “Are you sure about that?” “I don’t need a fucking angel to reveal that.” Vito laughed dryly. “Alright. What have you got to fight me with?”

They were almost out when the final trap triggered. As they emerged from the building, a new figure stepped out from behind a row of armored vehicles. Tall. Cold. Familiar in a way that made Leo’s blood freeze. It was Valeria’s son — Leo’s cousin, a man named Dante who had supposedly died in the final estate explosion. He was alive. And he was holding a detonator. “Hello, cousin,” Dante said with a cruel smile. “You really thought killing my mother would be the end? The True Blood was always just the beginning. The cartel is done waiting. They want your bloodline or your head. And I’ve already given them both options.”

Dante was beaming, dressed in a fine suit as he stood at an award ceremony. It seemed as if it was for an Italian wine company. Dante owned that legal company? Matthias had thought he only did illegal shit. Scrolling through the web, he couldn't find much about Dante until he came across a link to his I*******m. Tapping on it, he was brought to an account with five million followers. In every photo of Dante, he looked like perfection, gorgeous as sin. He was the true definition of a devil in a suit. If Matthias hadn't seen him kill, he wouldn't have believed it.

The heavy iron door of the basement was suddenly blown off its hinges with a blinding flash of light and a deafening roar of tearing metal. Smoke and dust poured into the room. Through the hazy red glow, a tall, terrifying shadow stepped into the doorway. Dante. His black shirt was torn, soaked through with dark crimson blood from his bleeding side. He held a heavy tactical rifle in his right hand, his face splattered with fresh blood, his golden eyes blazing with an unhinged, lethal fury that looked entirely inhuman. Behind him, the corridor was quiet—lined only with the fallen bodies of Costa’s outer guards.

I saw Lisa move into the kitchen from the corner of my eye. “Uh, hello.” “I’m Matteo, Lorenzo’s brother.” Yeah, I remember, Lorenzo. I like the devil better. I nodded. Lisa came back and went to drop something on the table. “Since you’re done, I’ll just go,” I told her, turning around. “No, you should join us,” Matteo stated as he took his seat. “Uh…I can’t…I…” “Okay, I’m insisting.” That was when the devil came descended the stairs. He barely made a sound yet we all felt his presence. He was dressed in his usual all-black fashion. He would have looked relaxed if he would be sensible enough to unclench his jaw.