Hells Kitchen Black Jacket Novels & Stories

Bethany, Xavier, Mr Torres, Stacy, Jason and Blaze all had beautiful smiles on their faces but as you know happiness can disappear in a flick of your fingers. The door came down to reveal a lady, standing with a sinister grin, dressed in fitted leather black trousers with black sneakers. She had different piercing filled with black studs and dangling earrings. Her hair was packed in a ponytail, with dark shades shoved into the upper part. Her black huge leather jacket sat upon a black crop top. Everything on her was as black as the devil's soul. "Rich!" She called happily "Mom...?" Stacy dropped her fork and her jaw dropped. "Witch?" Blaze's eyes dilated, she couldn't believe the view in fro

I was frowning at myself in the full length mirror when Eva reappeared with an incredibly dead fish look. And the leather jacket in her hand, I recognised it as soon as I saw it. Hunter’s. He wore it at father’s celebration party two years ago. But Eva doesn’t seem to know. “Miss Kratos only wears jackets approved by the Blood Moon Pack,” she mimicked Leon’s tone, “Mr Black’s orders.” I blushed hard. “Yeah,” Eva flung the jacket on the bed like it was her overdue assignment, “I’m mad too. You’re doing your best to avoid him, and he’s like a gum on your shoe.”

Jax The next day Jax turned to his new security guard, a black guy named Chills. He wore his usual—black hat, dark pants, and leather jacket. No shirt. It was like he wanted to be a conductor to the sun or some moving solar panel of energy that sucked up the heat. In some ways, the outfit symbolized how bad he was. Who else but a crazy person would wear a leather jacket on a Miami summer day? What was he thinking when he hired him?

The mountain air was turning bitter. I sat at the wooden island counter in the kitchen, pushing a small piece of scrambled egg around my porcelain plate with a silver fork. The thick, gray morning fog pressed heavily against the cabin windows, entirely blocking out the sun. Killian walked into the kitchen. He wore dark tactical pants, heavy black combat boots, and a thick black leather jacket over a dark sweater. The leather stretched tightly across his massive shoulders. He looked incredibly dangerous, blending the sharp, violent edge of the Russian Pakhan with the rugged isolation of the forest.

His broad chest heaving up and down as a result of his anger. Along with him, there were other five to six members in that dark room, all dressed in Black. Their bodies were in a stiffened position, all tying there hands in the back, with their chest raised up. The person wearing the black jacket, who had the charm of the absolute leader of them, took slow steps towards his prey. The bloodied man shivered as his eyes fell on those sharp ocean blue eyes, eyeing him cruelly.

I settled myself with a white tank top, black ripped jeans, a black leather jacket, and black heels boots. What can I say? I come to love black. I took my gun inside the drawer and tuck it at my back. Same with the knives, the first one, I hide it inside my boots. The second one, I hide inside my jacket. I brush my hair and let it loose freely till it reaches my waist. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I head downstairs making my way to the kitchen. There I found Emily behind the stove cooking breakfast. Drake, Matthew, and Blake are seated eating breakfast.

I rolled my eyes at her and she dragged me out of the kitchen, I wore a black long jacket to avoid freezing to death, the main door of the mansion opened and we got out. After crossing the garden, there stood 2 black SUV’s and bodyguards suited in black with Bluetooth devices fitted in their ear, seemed like waiting for us. As I reached close to the car, a well-muscled man opened the front door for me, I looked at him, but I wasn’t sure if he was looking at me too or not, he was wearing black shades.

Smoke billowed through the opening, and we ducked behind what little cover the cramped room offered: Hail behind a stone pillar, Lena beside an overturned table, me crouched behind a massive iron chest. Six figures pushed through the smoke, weapons raised. They wore mismatched armor cobbled together from scavenged materials, but their movements were disciplined. At their center stood Kade Blackthorn, looking like he'd walked straight out of the apocalypse and decided to become its poster boy. He wore a hood pulled low, but I could still see the calculating gleam in his eyes as they swept the room. A jagged scar ran from his temple to his jaw, and his mouth curved into that peculiar, cold smi

He was coming toward the kitchen. "I know you're back there. I can smell your perfume." My heart was beating so loud I was sure he could hear it. The man stepped into the kitchen. He was wearing all black clothes and a ski mask that covered his whole face. He was big. Way bigger than me. "There you are," he said. His voice was cold. I held up the knife. "Get out of my apartment." "Put that down before you hurt yourself." "Get out!" I screamed.

Jake. Punctual this time, which was a small miracle in itself. He looked well, better geared, for starters. His jacket was sleek black, fitted, and clearly new. Not in a flashy way, but in the “I-don’t-shop-sales-rack” kind of way. His boots actually matched and his helmet didn’t look like it had survived three wars. Still, he carried himself like a man preparing to face his doom. “Hey, disaster” I called out with a grin, sliding my goggles up.