Samuel Mitrigard sunk the knife deep into Dante’s side. Piercing pain ignited his senses and weakness spread through his body. He gritted his teeth and glared at the bastard, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing his anguish. Samuel pulled the blade out without even twisting it to finish the job. He was playing.

“Drop him,” he ordered, ever so casually.

The arms pulled away and Dante fell face-first into the dirt. So this was the end. Dante could never imagine his death, even though he had many close brushes. There were many things he hadn’t done in his life, but at least he took solace in knowing that Peter and Dianna were safe.

Samuel Mitrigard grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled Dante’s head. The edge of an impeccably clean sword lowered to his exposed throat.

“Halt!”

The guardian angels froze and gawked as a hooded figure appeared. Dante could swear he saw this hooded figure, but his vision was blurring quickly. The man walked closer and removed his hood, exposing a blond head and blue angel eyes.

“Don’t kill this demon! I order you to release him in the name of Raphael Azelys, Third Prince of Heaven!”

What did he say? Dante couldn’t trust his ears, or any of his other senses at this moment. A royal heir could not simply be in the ghetto. It made no sense. Though the guardians were suddenly standing on their toes. Everyone but Samuel Mitrigard still held his prey by the hair, his sword still ready to slice.

“Your Highness, I don’t know why you’re here alone, but this is not the place for royalty.”

“Please, guardian Samuel, tell me exactly where my place is.”

Dante felt the body behind him tense. The soles of ridiculously expensive boots stepped close enough for him to smell the leather.

“Remove your weapon,” demanded the prince.

His voice was so calm, as though an owner was asking his dog to drop its favorite toy. The guardians were looking at each other, clueless what to do. Samuel Mitrigard pressed the blade against Dante’s throat, enough to break the skin, but no further. He simply did not want to let go, not even when his sovereign demanded it.

“Your Highness, this is a convicted murderer. He killed a guardian on duty...”

“Any demon’s crimes are erased should they become an honorary angel,” the prince interrupted. “I’m here to make him into one.”

“What?”

“Give him to me, guardian Samuel.”

The guardian tugged on Dante’s hair -- one last act of defiance before he reluctantly let him go. Dante’s face planted back into the dirt, but the prince caught him in time.

His vision was blurry, but he could see him. His Royal Highness Raphael Azelys was kneeling before him, supporting his chin in his palm, enough so they could establish eye contact.

“From now on, you’re mine,” he said, and the world sank into darkness.