Novelas y relatos de Dante Devil May Cry

Dante Mancini, known in the mob as the Devil, since by his works in the organization where he is the leader, is the most cruel and ruthless in taking revenge. The Devil, as many know him, inherited the business empire and mafia territories from his father, Mr. Demetrio Mancini. After his death, Dante had to take complete charge of everything, remaining in charge as the head of the entire Italian territory and a large part of the European and American continent.

Dante wanted to believe her, but he chose not to – this way he would be able to get over her death quicker. “Don’t you remember what they did you our parents?” Dante spoke as he stood in the middle of his room. His one eye covers with a patch, while a deep scar runs from his right cheek to the corner of his lips. Another deep scar ran at the side of his head. He is wearing a plain white button-up shirt and black pants. His hair is gelled back neatly. Dante and Mateo share the same eye color – they got it from their mother. They both are tall, but Mateo is slightly taller than his elder brother.

I heard the shower running and made my way there. “Can you believe that bastard?!” I almost shouted. Cara let out a scream as I barged in. I ignored her and sat on the toilet lid. “Could you at least knock?! What if I was shaving?” “Sorry. Back to my problem.” I said dismissively, and she poked her head out of the shower to look at me. “I talked to the Devil.” “What Devil?” “That Devil, Damiano.” “Ah. Why? Miss him?” She winked, but I only scowled.

After a few seconds of eye-to-eye battle, he still maintained his silence, leaving Don Basco with no choice but to break the deafening silence between them. “Am I right? What do you think? (Am I, right? What do you think?)” Don Basco questioned; his lips painted with the image of the devil's grin. Without Don Basco's knowledge, the real devil was the young man in front of him—a devil who is hiding in human flesh with an innocent face, waiting for the right moment to attack his enemy and make them feel what hell is like.

I bet he doesn’t knows what being a family guy is. Dante doesn't look like he is 33, he is such a fine young man with an evil heart. I hate him, I hate his guy, I hate everything about him.

The two men tied to the chains, looked up from their bloodied states only to see the devil standing in front of them. "Let the fun begin," Dante smirked, stabbing the first man in the shoulder and twisting his knife a full 180 degrees. The man screamed in unbearable pain and already felt his life slipping away. Dante had dug his knife into the same spot the man was shot at. "How dare you even touch my girl?" Dante gritted every word before dragging the knife to his chest, cutting open all the skin that came in its way. "How dare you even look at her with your filthy eyes?" the man spat some blood before looking in Dante's eyes.

George groaned out as Dante shoved the knife into his cock, tearing it off. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his body stilled for a while. “Let loose of the rat and let them fist on him.” “Yes sir.” “Please. Please, Dante. Just kill me. Don't do that to me, just kill me.” he cried as he saw the rats trying to find their way to him, and In no time, they were climbing on him. His executing cries filled the air and it only made Dante extremely happy. It's been 10 years off the game and now that he was returning, he sure was returning in the most horrific way ever.

He cursed under his breath. At first prince Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the red ones peering at him, it was as if he has been glued to those flaming eyes, but that spell lost it effect on him the moment he heard another growl from the massive creature laying on the floor with an arrow stuck in his heart. ‘ isn't this what they call caught between the devil and the deep blue sea?, but then no matter how beautiful the sea might appear, the devil you know is far better.’ “Ahhhhhhhh"

Blood spattered against the dirty concrete floor. Dmitry paused, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Now," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "that's more like it." The older man's body was shaking with pain, his face contorted in a grimace. His screams filled the air, bouncing off the cold, hard walls.

“You slaughtered them! My entire family! You will pay!” Ayra ducked behind a crumbling wall, heart hammering. The full weight of the confrontation pressed down. She caught sight of George’s wild eyes and felt the heat of his personal vendetta. And then he barked, pointing at her. “You! You’re mine! All of you are mine!” Lucian fired without hesitation, moving like liquid through the chaos, suppressing George’s flanking men with perfect bursts of fire. But George didn’t hesitate—he lunged, barreling toward Ayra, unafraid of the bullets snapping past him.