Dante Devil May Cry Novels & Stories

His fist connected before the name had time to settle. The punch snapped Vitale’s head sideways. Blood spilled from his mouth as the chair rattled violently against the floor. Vitale coughed, then slowly lifted his head, eyes glazed but alive. A crooked smile spread across his face. “Oh,” he chuckled hoarsely. “The almighty Dante De Salvador.” That was a mistake. Dante struck him again. And again. And again. Each punch was precise. Controlled. Fueled by years of unanswered questions and buried rage. Vitale’s laughter turned into broken gasps, his smugness fading as pain took over.

"I am very sure you will want to follow your mommy. Then, we would see the kind of choice you would make. Become a servant like your mommy and sister, or come with me and become my heir." "I will never do that." Dante shrugged. "The little devil has made up his mind. You have made up your mind to follow the bad road and I cannot stop you." He looked at me and snickered. "I will be leaving now." He squatted before Derek. "I will be meeting you soon, my dear." Derek grabbed on to my hand, not even trying to let go, while Dianne was doing otherwise. Why doesn't she understand that this man over here is a different man entirely. He is not the man who would carry her like before and ay sweet word

No humanity, just hunger. “You’re him,” she whispered. “The Devil of the Underworld.” He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of courtly manners. “Dante Moretti. Though most only whisper my name.” Her heart pounded. Dante Moretti wasn’t just a crime lord—he was a myth. A monster in a designer suit. A man with more blood on his hands than the war itself. Rumors said he didn’t age, didn’t bleed, didn’t sleep. That he struck deals in shadows, and those who betrayed him were never found again. Or if they were, it was in pieces.

From up here, the city glowed like a wound—fires smoldering, broken glass glittering, and the cries of the desperate echoing into the dark. Behind her, Dante’s footsteps were measured, deliberate, like a predator stalking the silence. He had grown quieter in recent weeks, his rage contained but seething like a furnace beneath the surface. The attack two nights ago had proven what they both already knew: there was someone else moving pieces against them. Someone smarter, colder, and more patient than Lorenzo had ever been. Amara didn’t turn when Dante finally spoke. “They call him Il Diavolo,” Dante said, his voice like gravel. “The Devil. An old ghost. I thought he was buried years ago, but

LAZZARO That girl. The way she stitched me, the way she looked at me while at it was fucking sexy. I had almost lost control, and it took everything within me to hold back. I never force my way with women. I might be a devil, but I wasn’t that monstrous.

Dante complimented. Beep. Victor ended the call. With a wide grin, Dante picked up his tumbler and gulped down the rest of the contents. His face contorted as the burning sensation descended down his throat he let out a heavy sigh. Deca Familia… che abbia inizio il gioco dei re. (Deca Familia… let the game of kings begin.)

I said. He chuckled lightly at first, but then it developed into a full blown laughter. I waited patiently for him to get all of the laughter off his chest, because very soon, nothing would be funny. He was still laughing when the last light of the day disappeared into the darkness of the night. “Oh Diavolo. Ever so arrogant. No one wins forever, don't you know? Not even the devil,” he said after his laughter had subsided. “Not everyone is me,” I replied, and then turned around. “Good night Damien Draco.”

Without a second thought, my eyes blazed red and he flinched in fear and shock, drawing backwards as a long sword formed in my left hand. “What….the….fuck…” Not bearing the weight of what he saw, he passed out on the cold floor. As for my signal to Ruben, I smashed a glass on the wall and in the next minute, he was in a heated fight with Don Columbus men. I stared back at the man on the floor and placed my hand on his head. Since he didn't want this the easy way, we were gonna do it the hard way. Either way, Delanxy must be brought down.

Roman Thorne is the invincible team leader of college hockey. He is large, aggressive and a nightmare to the media. The press, however, does not know what makes the Briarwood Ice Devils so feared. They are not just players. They are ruthless, blood-swilling offspring of the most formidable crime business in the city. Trying to keep a small scandal which is about to blow up their small business, the Thorne family appeals to the service of Sloane Mercer. She is 24 years old and a brilliant ruthless PR fixer. Her task is easy: to improve the image of the team, to work with press, and not to put Roman in the prison. But Sloane has not come to save them. She is here to ruin them. Sloa

Tommy replied giving her slightly some motivation. Iris seemed to think again. She doesn't want any more sadistic murders by the devil-like what happened to her parents. She looked at Eva and Tommy in turn before she gave a small smile. "First, I need a place to stay." Eva immediately extended her hand to shake hands with her. "Welcome to the Devil Hunter organization, Iris." After she joined Devil Hunter, she was immediately trained by Shane and introduced to the members in the headquarters. "Devils, have various kinds of powers. They can change appearance, move as fast as lightning, have unlimited power, and can imitate human form one hundred percent similar." Shane explained.