Dante Rebellion Novels & Stories

Dante replied. "So what do you want, for all of us to storm there and go to our possible death" Paolo asked. "Yes, that's exactly what I am suggesting" Dante replied. "Well count me out, I am not interested" Paolo said. "Well I am doing this with or without the support of the alliance members" Dante said resolutely. "Look Dante, I think you should calm down and think about this" Antonio said calmly. "I am done with thinking, I am going to act now" Dante told him.

“So they took Nonna to force your hand.” Dante exhaled sharply. “Yeah.” His jaw tightened. “And that was their first mistake.” Because no one—no one—touched his family and lived to tell the tale.

Damien laughed with his mouth full of blood. "What is so funny?" asked Vincent, while Damien was still laughing. "You can't defeat me, because your damn sword won't do me any good. Even if my plan with the werewolves fails, I can still hand your head over to Saveroth. That way, you'll be branded a rebel, while I'll be a hero to the kingdom for capturing a rebel like you." Damien stopped laughing and threw his sword on the floor. He then looked intently at Vincent's eyes which were right in front of him.

“You’re meant to be rotting in exile! The crown left your family the moment you were cast out. It’s mine now! You all promised!” The patriarch Luto, the only family who had never betrayed me, slammed his hand against the table. “Enough, Augusto. You forget yourself. The crown has rested in Dante’s bloodline for generations. He is the rightful king. Not Lorenzo, who stained our streets with blood. Not you, scavenging for scraps of power. When Dante ruled, there was peace. Our families thrived, our businesses flourished, and the government stayed in our pocket. That’s the truth.”

Dante let out a long, exhausted sigh and rubbed both of his hands roughly across the back of his neck. He looked so tired, the heavy weight of Alex’s death still hanging visibly over his broad shoulders. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him everything, but I knew he would just react with pure fury. He would confront the traitors instantly, and without proof, it would just turn into a bloody civil war inside the house. "I need to go down to the western courtyard," Dante said, breaking the silence as he stood up from his chair. "Our elite warriors just arrived from the home territory, and I need to check on them personally," he explained.

I stood as a testament of what they had tried to erase. To later generations, they would label that night an uprising, labelling me a monster, the crack in the order that held the moon. They would whisper my name as a curse, a warning to anyone who tries to defy the authority they had so carefully crafted. Through it all, as I stood tall in the wreckage of their certainty, one truth rang clear through my mind, even clearer that the howls that were now being torn from my chest: I was never a curse and I was never cursed, but instead made a correction for all to see and somewhere deep inside of me I was convinced that this was only the beginning.

I admitted, wincing at the memory of that explosive night. Dante let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, hell no. There is no way I’m trusting that guy. Not now, not ever. For all I know, he’s the one behind all this crap, playing some sick game with us.” His paranoia sent a chill through me, but I refused to let his ego cloud this.

Sasha suggested, her eyes glistening with ambition for a greater cause I couldn't place my fingers on. " Friends? Allies? That sounds like the most ridiculous proposal of the year.” I snarled. " Fortunately yes and unfortunately that's your only ticket out of your present misery.” " Don't be entirely sure.” I warned and Sasha got up from the bed,her eyes blazing with deciet. “So you choose to reject my offer to salvation and suffer more assault from Luca who sees you as nothing more than a slave at his beck and call." “I rather suffer in the hands of Luca than become friends with a vile person like you. You are no different from Luca who you now call the devil.” I bellowed, glaring angrily a

"A girl dressed like this is looking for a sponsor. Let’s see what’s under this–” Before Marcus could finish, a massive, scarred hand clamped around his wrist. A loud crunch echoed over the music as his bone cracked. Marcus let out a high-pitched shriek, his grip leaving from my skin as he was forced down to his knees. "You're making a mess of my tile, Marcus," a deep growl came. Dante. He stood over us, his tailored suit immaculate, but his grey eyes flashing with an unhinged fury. Two security guards stood behind him, their hands resting on their holstered firearms. Dante was the exiled son of the Marchetti empire, yet he commanded his territory within the Famiglia.

In the far distance, the Ash Valleys still smoldered—remnants of a war won in blood, not peace. “I crowned myself in light,” Seraphina whispered. “But I rule in the shadow of what comes next.” Behind her, Dante approached, his steps soft but deliberate. He didn’t speak at first, only placed a hand on the small of her back. It grounded her. “They’ll expect something today,” he said. “They always do.” “And you’ll give it to them.” “Not what they think.” She turned to him. “The rebellion’s not over, Dante. We ended the figurehead. Not the belief.”