Dante's Son Devil May Cry Novels & Stories

he chuckled like the devil. "But you know what? Alessio is lucky he has a daughter. If Lisa had birthed a son, I’d have killed him and trained the boy into the man I want. His daughter is going to die, and Alessio won’t even know about it. I’m the real devil — not Alessio," he smirked dangerously as he set Pietro and Stonia’s picture on fire with a lighter.

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.

Months later, in her hospital, she gave birth to a baby boy. The first cry sliced through the room, small and fierce. Dante held his son with shaking hands. The baby was warm and impossibly light in his arms. His tiny fingers curled instinctively around Dante’s thumb. Dante laughed through tears he didn’t bother hiding. He pressed his forehead to the baby’s. “You carry my father’s name,” he whispered. Don Salvatore De Santis junior. In that moment, surrounded by his wife and son, the noise of his empire faded into nothing. There was only the steady sound of Sophia breathing and the fragile heartbeat against his palm.

After I shouted to choose Matteo, my mother, Sofia, looked down at me in shock. "Lia, what are you talking about?! You just told me yesterday that Vincenzo treats you the best. Why are you choosing Matteo now?" Matteo had a terrible reputation among the Families. Everyone said he was bloodthirsty and ruthless, with enough blood on his hands to stain the entire river red. I used to hide whenever I saw him, crying and begging my mother to hold me. But they would never know that in my last life, the terrifying Diavolo Sanguinario was the only one who avenged my mother and me.

He shifted, leaned back, legs spread wider, one boot tapping the floor with lazy rhythm. “I’m sure you’ve heard of The Devil,” he said. His voice was smooth. Deep. Too calm. It wasn’t the kind of voice that threatened you. It was the kind that made promises you knew would come true, even if they were the kind to make your skin crawl. I blinked. “Only the one from the Bible.” He chuckled. Low. Warm. Wrong. “Are you religious, Luca?” He said my name. It sounded like silk being pulled tight against my throat.

Had seen what Dimitri's bullets had done to his little brother's face. One shot. Clean. Between the eyes. Execution-style. Like Sal was nothing. Like fifteen Romano soldiers were nothing. The funeral had been closed-casket. Their mother had sobbed for hours. And Dante....eldest son, new head of the family, had stood beside the grave and made a silent promise. Dimitri Valentino would pay. Not quickly. Not cleanly. Slowly. Painfully. Personally. Dante would take everything the Devil loved and own and burn it to ash.

*-*-*-*-*-*-* Dante crouched down to eye level with his son and said, "Son, do you remember what we practiced yesterday?" Lucario nodded his head happily and answered, "Aye sir!" Dante chuckled, standing up, he tapped his son on the shoulder then went to the kitchen and brought out the tray with breakfast on it and walked over to his son. He saw that Lucario had five gifts in his hands and was smiling up at him while he bounced around. "Okay, I am ready, let us go wake your daddy up," Dante said and the two made their way to the master bedroom. The two of them walked over to the bed to Waylon who was sleeping with his butt out and snoring.

It rang, and rang, then I remembered he didn't like to pick up unknown numbers and just as I was about to hang up… "Who the hell is this?" His voice came through, deep, cold, and familiar. It rolled through my chest like thunder. I swallowed. "Dante." I called and there was instant silence, then a sharp inhale. "…Princess." He was the only one who ever called me that and to the rest of the world, he wasn’t Dante. He was Doom... The name whispered in fear, the shadow in every dark alley and the monster Mafia boss parents warned their kids about.

Caterina was silent. "Now we focus on your recovery first." Dante spoke softly. Caterina nodded. Dante took off the shirt that was attached to his body. He put the shirt on his daughter's body to cover Caterina's naked body. Dante's jaw tightened; he clenched his fists very tightly as he brought destruction to his daughter's world. He should never have brought Caterina to live there. He should have left La Vendetta first so he could focus on taking care of his daughter and planning a good future for her.

“So you came to me.” “Yes.” “And why would I help you?” “Because everyone says there’s only one man my father has never been able to control.” She held his gaze. “They call him the Devil.” The faintest smile appeared on Damien’s face. “I’ve never liked that nickname.” “But you never denied it.” “No.” He stood and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the rain-soaked estate. His hands rested casually in his pockets. “You know what people also say about me?” “They say you never lose.”