Killer Chef Novels & Stories

yell Asher with defiance “You don’t fucking understand at all. Stop saying that you are. YOU DON’T” “And this knife it not for me but I will fucking kill them. I will fucking kill them all” “So if you get in the fucking way I will kill you too” Asher warn “So doc don’t try to act hero” “Calm down Ash. Put the knife down and we can talk. Whatever it is we can talk it out” said Xenorr coaxingly

“Hopefully, he won’t be vicious enough to drag your brothers into it.” Elvis’s icy blue, worried eyes finally met mine. We both knew exactly how heartless his father could be. His lips pressed tight as he cast his head downward, saying nothing. The chefs arrived then, carrying steaming plates on silver platters, the aroma weaving through the room. Vadim’s crew set down the main dish—Zhazhda krovy—a steak sculpted into the shape of a beating human heart, its surface deliberately undercooked, juices still dark and shiny. Exactly the way Elvis hated it.

A black line through the Greek letter Omega, right below his collarbone, just far enough to hide under a shirt, just close enough to remind him he belonged to a killer. Jacob didn’t scream. But he didn’t speak, either. Not until the needle stopped buzzing and the man with gloves left the room. Then Leo stepped close, eyes tracing the raw skin. “You’ll thank me someday.” Jacob laughed, cold, bitter. “For what? Not killing me?” “For making you untouchable.” That night, Jacob stood shirtless in front of the mirror, staring at the mark. It wasn’t the pain that unsettled him. It was the power behind it.

It’s a fragment of a memory from a late-night dive into the encrypted forums where the monsters of the underworld compare notes. Kirill Nikolaev. The name wasn’t in Senator Scott’s files, which means I won’t be a conflict of interest. A user on a Tor-hidden forum, using the handle Viper_77, had bragged about an assassin with a team who could vanish problems that even the cartels couldn't scrub. Someone who didn't just remove the stain, but turned the whole cloth to ash. They called him a scalpel in a world of hammers. They also said he’s absolutely deadly.

Currently, he was standing over a groaning vampire who looked like he'd been put through a meat grinder. "NEXT!" the warrior chef boomed, his voice carrying across the entire square. "Who dares challenge Korgath the Crimson Chef? Who wants to taste defeat and then taste VICTORY in the form of the finest meal they've ever eaten?" The crowd murmured but nobody stepped forward.

With his hands raised in surrender, and a smirk forming on his face, he lowered himself back down on the stool and watched me silently. "You weren't lying when you said you couldn't cook." His amused voice rang in my ears, causing me to shoot him an incredulous look. I may not be strong or ferocious, but this man definitely had a death wish. "You happen to be very ferocious." Alpha Killian's smirk deepened as he practically read my mind, his eyes trailing over my heated cheeks. Grumbling to myself about cocky Alphas, I continued the nearly impossible quest of cooking an edible dinner.

Nikolas teased. I walked over to the huge double fridge that occupied a sizeable space in the giant kitchen and determinedly yanked open the door. There were several bags of fresh pasta, as well as cream, eggs, butter, and smoked salmon. A pot of fresh basil graced the windowsill by the sink, and I busied myself pruning at the aromatic leaves. By the time I had measured out the pasta, whisked some eggs, beaten cream in, and chopped up the salmon, Nikolas sauntered by to take a peek. "Mmm," He moaned as he inspected my handiwork. "Looking good." He wandered across to the temperature-controlled wine cabinet and extracted a bottle. "I think this should rinse it down nicely," He said.

“None of you even deserve to survive. We do not know how many people you have killed. Yet we will make sure that none of you will ever victimize another set of souls again!” I can’t make out what happens next. Everything is so fast now, the chef is leaning on the table while Harris holds the knife and he puts it on the chef’s throat. “I’ll make sure that none of you will ever live to see the reality. We will ruin this hotel where its ashes get burned down to the ground as all of you bow and pray for forgiveness to the souls you have brutally taken.”

came a voice from her door. Yes. Claire was the department's new police captain, currently going on six years after Mayor Joshua Avery was impeached and charged with the assassination of the National Guard Commander back in 2016 together with the mastermind; Trevor Brandon, who is still in Atlanta's most wanted list after his escape from Georgia and has never been heard of since. Following the events of the impeachment, a new mayor—and a very familiar face—was sworn in, who would later appoint Susan Claire as the Police Captain.

Something else must have happened. “You will have to ask her yourself because her record on the site is missing for half of her life.” “A mistery. Perfect. What is the chef’s name?” “Brandon Lookwod.” “Let’s visit this fucker. It’s the perfect time to vent my anger.”