Dante Falconeri General Hospital Novels & Stories

"It's all over. I'm here. I will never let anyone hurt you again." I cried until I was exhausted. I looked up at his face, his eyes etched with pain for me, and my voice came out hoarse but firm. "Orion, let's get married. Right now." A few days later, a detective from the Chicago PD found us. "Mr. Moretti, Miss Rossi," the lead detective said, his expression complicated. "We just found Vittorio Falcone, critically injured after a gang shootout. He's not going to make it. He said... he has an important final confession he wants to make to you."

I was well aware that she’s been standing there for the past few minutes, debating on whether or not to enter the house. “Dante is at the hospital with Nicolas and Aurora…” “What?” She asked, stopping me. She walked to my side, her frown and racing heart told me that this was not going to be ending well. I knew that she was protective over her son, and finding out that he was shot was the last thing that she wanted to hear; especially since the man was yet to completely heal from his first shot. “He is fine, Angelina. They need to…” “How was he shot again, Alessandro? Didn’t Nicolas wake you to go and help them? How did he…?”

At Cafe de Flore, I happened to see news from the United States. "Falcone Pharmaceutical Files for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy Protection; Dante Falcone Faces Federal Criminal Charges" "Former 'Medical Prodigy' Olivia Ricci Sentenced to Five Years in Federal Prison, Fined Twenty Million Dollars" I calmly finished my cafe au lait and turned off my phone. None of this had anything to do with me anymore.

Dante replied quickly. "Okay? I guess we'll go outside and try calling her," Dario said eyeing him suspiciously. Dante prayed in his heart that nothing should have happened to his family but the moment Dario's phone received a signal and he played the voice note he had gotten from Chloe, Dante cursed whatever had taken him out today. *** Faustino paced up and down outside the emergency unit as he tried to calm his frazzled nerves and console the little girl that wouldn't stop crying claiming everything was her fault.

He never had the Blood Training, it was as if our murderous blood was inherited. “I’m almost out of bullets,” Sylvana says, and I toss her another gun from my holster. I was almost out as well, but she didn’t need to know that because as soon as this fight started, it was over, thanks to Dario and his men. We walked over to where Dante had the Capobastone on his knees and a gun to his head. “You’re dead, Dragonetti, fucking dead! This is war!” Pierro Falcone says in a thick accent and spits next to Dante’s feet.

The city was a powder keg. Dante called. I answered on the first ring. "The Falcones," he snarled. "They hit us. They took everything. They've started a war." "The Falcones? That's terrible, Dante," I said, injecting the perfect amount of false sympathy. "You should have invested in better security. Or, you know, not frozen out your best asset." "You did this," he accused, his voice thick with unearned certainty. "I'm in Monaco, Dante. I'm legally divorced from you. I'm playing roulette. You're losing billions in antiques because you're cheap and reckless. Don't confuse my success with your incompetence."

"But tonight, I see you for what you really are. Vicious. Consumed by jealousy. There is no line you won't cross." "You've mastered the cheap tricks of a back-alley schemer." Every word was a bullet, piercing my chest. "You're a disgrace to the title of Principessa," he continued. "The Falcone family deserves a better eldest daughter than you." "It's a good thing your mother died young. She didn't have to see what you've become." "Dante De Luca." The sharp, metallic click of a hammer being cocked cut through the air. I staggered to my feet and pulled the Glock from my guard's holster, aiming it squarely at his forehead.

(Alessandro’s POV) The kiss broke the dam, but the flood that followed was not one of peace. It was a torrent of paranoia and fear. My intelligence network, the best in Chicago, brought me whispers that turned my blood to ice. Dante Falcone, the old Don’s psychopathic heir, was not licking his wounds in exile. He was gathering the most violent dregs of his father's organization, fueled by drugs and a burning, obsessive hatred for me. And his primary obsession, the target of his twisted revenge, was Isabella.

she asks. "Maybe they didn't know he was dead. The council told everyone he transferred." "But if Rebecca and David are here, asking questions—" "Then someone told them the truth," Dante finishes. "Question is who." Crimson Hollow General appears through the windshield—a modest three-story building serving the town's human and supernatural population. Dante parks in the emergency zone, not caring about the human rules. Inside, the hospital smells of antiseptic and fear. A nurse recognizes Dante immediately. "Alpha Silverclaw, he's in room 304. Third floor." She hesitates. "I should warn you, he's in bad shape. The doctors say if he were human—"

"Rosa is not easy to deal with at first glance! Will she harm Renee?" "She wouldn’t dare.” Dante squinted fiercely, and for a moment his phoenix eyes were bloodthirsty. Everyone had a bottom line. He could tolerate Rosa messing around, because he didn't care. But if she didn't have self-knowledge and provoked Renee, she would not be able to handle his wrath. Thinking of Renee, he was a little disturbed for no reason. "When can I be discharged? This time it's just diarrhea. Why do I need to be hospitalized?"