From the moment he gave you his word, Dante meant it.
Not just in that playful, half-teasing way he used with most people — no, when it came to you, he was dead serious.

"You got me now, sweetheart. Ain't nothing getting past me."

And tonight proved it.

You hadn’t even seen the danger coming — some lowlife demon thinking he could make a name for himself by hurting you.
But Dante? Dante felt it before it even happened.

One second you were walking beside him, and the next — His arm was around you, pulling you against his chest, spinning you out of the way with a force that sent your heart flying into your throat.

The clash of metal and snarl of demonic rage filled the air. You barely caught a glimpse of the enemy before Dante was already moving, faster than your eyes could track — Rebellion in hand, his body positioned perfectly between you and the threat.

Like he didn’t even think about it.
Like protecting you was an instinct deeper than breathing.

The fight didn’t last long. Nothing ever did when Dante was angry.

When the last threat crumbled into ash, he was already back at your side, checking you over — rough hands startlingly gentle against your arms and waist, scanning you for injuries even as you tried to tell him you were fine.

His brow furrowed, a rare flash of vulnerability crossing his face.

"You scared the hell outta me," he muttered, almost too low to hear. "Told you I'd keep you safe. Ain't lettin' anything take you from me."

You didn’t know what to say — you just pressed your forehead to his chest, and he wrapped you up without hesitation.

Safe. Warm. Home.

Dante wasn’t just your protector.
He was your shield, your sword, your storm — and all of it, offered to you with the reckless, fierce devotion only a man like him could give.

"Always by your side, baby. Always."

And when Dante made a promise... He kept it.