Devil May Cry 5 Dante Devil Trigger Novels & Stories

DANTE'S POV People call me the Devil of New York. They're not wrong. I've killed men for less than a dirty look. I've gutted rats who thought they could steal from me. I've fucked women who begged for mercy and made them beg for more pain instead. My empire runs on blood, loyalty, and fear. That's the only language this rotten world understands. And tonight, I reminded everyone of it. Crawford thought he could play me. Thought he could borrow money from my syndicate, promise returns, and then ghost like I'm some dumb fuck banker. No. You don't spit in my face and walk away.

“The Devil’s greatest trick isn’t making you sin—it’s making you crave it.” The ride home was a blur. I sat at the back of the car, and watched as the city lights flickered past us. All I could think of was Dante Romano. The Devil. His touch still burned on my skin. I could still hear him “You’re mine...” as if I belong to no one. No, I’m not his. I’ll never be his. But my body is saying otherwise, the memory of his hands on me and his lips against my neck sent a shiver down my spine straight to my pussy. I am so pissed which is why I didn’t even notice we were already at home. The car pulled up to the Moretti estate. Yes, I live in a mansion that feels more like a fancy cage.

A massive, real life devil, the literal largest of life killers that ever walked the earth… kneeling before ME. At MY mercy. Hope flicks her tail playfully, and bats her eyes. Dante walks up to Rowan, clearly without any fear at all, and sniffs him. Hope wiggles our nose as the stench of sulfur and burnt skin flitters into our nose. When the devil huffs slightly, actual fucking smoke comes out of his nose. *Ohh man that’s awful,* Hope says, as she fights trying not to show her disgust at the smell. We stand frozen when the devil scoops up Dante’s large body and brings him so their noses rub. Awwww!

He adjusted his suit jacket, though his eyes were still burning with the fire of L'Oscuro. He looked down at Mateo, who was still on his knees. "You thought you were inviting a tech CEO to a birthday party." Dante whispered, his voice dangerously calm. "You forgot who I was before I built the company, Santiago." Mateo spat. “You son of…” "You invited the Devil into your house." Dante hissed. "And now you are upset that he brought hell with him." Then he casually shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around the room, his grey eyes sweeping over the terrified elite of New York.

One of him looks at me like I’m the only person in the world. Text overlaid in pastel fonts: > *they were endgame* > *devil in a suit vs. angel with a guitar* > *she wrote the demo about him, obviously* Hashtags under the post title: #RafLuna #ProducerAndMuse #SheDeservesBetterThanTheDevil That last one hits like a tiny punch. For a second, something hot and irrational flares in my chest—defensiveness on Dante’s behalf, of all things. Then doubt rushes in to drown it.

My heart gave a painful thump. Alpha Dante Davenport, the Devil of the MoonClaw Pack. The name alone had the power to silence an entire room. Stories about him were whispered or painted in the blood of the wolves who dared oppose him. A beast of a man with a smile carved from war and eyes sharp enough to cut through soul and steel. I swallowed. Vivian, ever the actress, twirled a lock of her blonde hair around her finger. “He's the type to drag singers to his bed before the chorus even starts. Ro-guish.” She said as if that was a compliment.

The seam vanished beneath the stone just as the chapel doors opened. Erdem stood in the entrance. He had not come with guards. His dark coat was damp from the rain. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes went immediately to the floor beside the altar. Then to me. "Hendrix," he said. I lowered my eyes. "Sir." "What are you doing here?" I looked toward the altar. "Praying." He walked into the chapel and closed the doors behind him, the sound echoed through the empty room. "Did you get an answer?"

"I fucking hate you" He didn't even seem fazed by my little outburst. Just stared at me like I was boring. "I haven't even started Matilda, you can't break already, that would be fucking boring" I was starting to realize why they called him the devil. His eyes spoke of torture and for the first time, I was truly scared of what he might do to me. A notification cut through the silence. His phone. He glanced at it once. Then his expression shifted slightly. Not emotionally, Just focused now.

“Those pretty eyes can’t stop following Lisa. You’re thinking, ‘what kind of assholes would make someone in her condition work for them?’ Am I right?” “No, I was…” “Well, that is what happened when you think of messing with me. It didn’t take more than two bullets. Yours will be a worse fate if you dare me, I assure you,” the devil dropped before lifting his cup of coffee to his lips. He did it to her? Of course. The food in my mouth suddenly nauseated me, and I pushed it down with a forceful gulp of water. “Excuse me.” I shot up from my chair and left.

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.