Rafe Khatchadorian Novels & Stories

In the quiet of the room, the moon carved white paths across the floor and painted the plaster cold. Three of the R8 were with him then: Damien, steady in the hard way of a man whose hands had killed and had been killing for years; Viktor, solemn and watchful; and Rafe, whose mouth could smooth troubles into deals and whose presence now was simply solid and warm. They were the men closest to him, the ones who had seen his worst and still stood.

To the right, a picture of Harou himself; In the middle, a picture of Blake with darker eyes in a deep green and hazel; and to the right, a picture of Damian, or as Harou likes to call him, Keiran. Blake nods in disbelief. "This, can't be real. This is . . . . What is this?"

At the entrance of the doctor’s chamber, she asked, “Should I wait?” I shook my head. “I will be able to navigate my way back. Don’t wish to disrupt your duty.” She bowed and walked away. I took a deep breath before entering. The pack doctor, a female beta wolf in her late 40s, immediately stood up when I entered. “I wasn't expecting your visit to be this soon. I am honoured to meet you, luna. This one is Georgia.” Yet again, I acknowledged this with a nod and introduced myself. “I’m Kathryn.” I wouldn’t be honest if I answered with a ‘Same here'.

She was the seeker of truth, the weaver of narratives. Rafael "Raf" Solis, a charismatic and quick-witted Logistics and Procurement Specialist, was the team’s fixer. In his mid-thirties, Raf could acquire anything, transport anything, and make anything disappear. He had a vast network of contacts in every corner of Wisteria’s underworld, and his loyalty was to Baron Vance, who had always treated him with respect, even when their paths diverged. He was the master of the impossible, the man who made things happen.

Malik gave a single, curt nod, his eyes flicking to Lachlan before returning to the blueprints. "The joker is Rafe," Dan continued. "A Nahual from the favelas of Rio. Favored hitman for the Dos Santos shifter cartel, right up until he stole their entire digital ledger and leaked it to the federales just for the chaos of it. He’s been running from a kill order ever since." Rafe offered a two-finger salute, though his eyes were locked on Lachlan’s claws, which were subconsciously extending.

she muttered. "No." "Oh." "But the damage has been done," Rafa murmured as his thick brows furrowed. She watched as his fist clenched till the skin of his knuckle became pale. He was tanner than Théo, and taller, more athletic and as far as she could tell, came from a more prominent family. Rafa also had a dangerous streak to him, as evidenced by the frantic events of this morning. But they both seemed to have a thoughtful, caring, sensible and vulnerable side to them. He even apologized to her more than twice for the car accident, and for bringing her here.

he whispered sharply, his voice almost a hiss. Kirana leaned back in her chair, casually swirling the half-empty glass of wine in her hand. One shoulder lifted in a light shrug. “Not me.” She lowered her gaze slightly, a faint smile touching her lips. “But it seems a big problem has just come knocking on your door.” “Gian, it’s me, Rafi. Open the door.” The voice from outside was clear, firm, and slightly heavy. It was unmistakable. Gian knew it well. Rafi was not just a coworker. He was the director’s right hand, someone trusted to guard the company’s secrets.

Orders barked into comms. Rafe doesn’t flinch. He moves. God help me, he moves like he never left. It happens between shots. Between commands. Between the life I wanted and the one I can’t escape. A man stumbles out from behind a crate—mid-forties, scarred cheek, Volkov markings burned into his neck. He freezes when he sees Rafe. Eyes widen. “You,” he breathes. “You’re dead.” Rafe stops. Just for a second.

Chapter One Dianne Cruz didn’t scare easily. She worked sixteen-hour shifts. She held beating hearts in her hands. She had told families their loved ones didn’t make it. Pressure didn’t break her. But the moment she saw him standing outside the hospital entrance, leaning against a black car like he had all the time in the world — her stomach tightened. Rafael Aragon. She knew the name now. Everyone did. Billionaire investor. Real estate tycoon. Political donor.

Raf said and took a step further. "You are my first and only child, Soren. Please, don't push me away anymore," Raf turned his gaze toward the person, who was none other than his mother, Aadhira Harrison Blackthorn. "And I'm the sole reason why you have only one child left. My curse will snatch you from Dad, and I don't have the power to bear the burden of more deaths, so it would be better if you stay away from me," Raf said, agony filling his eyes, and left from there.