Rafe Khatchadorian Novels & Stories

He realized that was the thing that kept on pulling him into her- the enigma, puzzle and huge question mark that was K. "I'm Jewish, we don't believe in hell," he simply put, grinning at her sardonically and not putting up with her sneaky little deride. "It doesn't matter if my moral compass is pointed way down the South Pole. And I'm single, I'm twenty-fucking-eight, I've no obligation and debts to pay for. I'm just trying to live my life." He tried to justify. "Okay. Great," K raised her brows and bit her lip enticingly.

She should either move forward to pursue her career or miss this opportunity because she had to work with Alpha Darren. “I heard the salary is fantastic because this job will represent Alpha Darren directly,” Rachel said. Diana gasped, the salary is a lot? Honestly, Diana needed a lot of money to complete her savings up to 10 million dollars so that she could immediately give it to the kidnapper. If she managed to pass and become the chosen candidate, it means she can get 10 million dollars faster, right? Huft, Diana was getting more and more hesitant to refuse.

WRITER’S POV A man in his early forties is in his house when he heard a sudden knock on the door. His name is Detective Joha. Once a public detective but retired by himself when he couldn’t bear to watch the injustice in the police department. Certain he was expecting no visitor, he stood still for seconds wondering who it could be. But when the knock came again repeatedly, he knew whomever was knocking wouldn’t leave until he steps out. He firstly peeped through the tiny door hole but whoever was knocking was smart enough to shield his face from the angle of the door hole.

Her laugh came easily, and she knew how to throw a look over her shoulder that could make a priest reconsider his vows. Next to her was a stranger who definitely wasn't strange to attention. Rafe was tall and golden, all long limbs and rolled sleeves, with sun-kissed skin and a lazy grin that threatened to slide into mischief at any moment. His eyes were the kind you didn't forget, crystal, maybe green, maybe blue, perhaps both, and his confidence had an effortless, boyish charm. You could tell he was fun before he said a word. Dangerous in the way that made you want to stay.

"Me, Natalia, probably Sloane too if she'd admit it" I grabbed my water bottle, drank half of it and I didn't look at him. Rafe wasn’t just someone that trained with my men, he is a friend also. Rafe left around ten thirty, said something about meeting his girlfriend for lunch. I stayed and I did another circuit, my legs this time, squats and lunges til my thighs were screaming again, then I moved to core work, planks and crunches and that thing where you hold yourself up on the bars.

The four of us stand up when five extremely large men walk in. “I am Kaden, and this is my cousin Alek. These two here are Brent and Lance.” I say. “Hey, I am Curtis, and this is Venom,” Curtis says. “I am Quade, and this is Zion. I am assuming you know Chaos.” Quade states.

Of course, they would, the two of us were the talk of almost everyone around, and it was only normal and expected for people to be admiring our presence. “Ezra?” I heard from behind me. I turned around to smile when I saw Mikhail, one of the club’s founders, standing in front of me. “And you must be Lia.” “How are you, Mikhail?” I asked, nodding at the man. “I am well, thank you for coming.” He said, and I smiled, feeling somewhat proud of him. The man was opening the club, as his first project, after his father died. His father was initially in charge of drugs, but his son was choosing a different path, and though it wasn’t a guaranteed one in the grounds of a cartel, it would at least guar

He pulled using my own momentum against me, and slammed me into the ground with enough force to crack the earth. Pain exploded through my body, but I rolled, kicking out at his legs. He jumped backward, and I was on my feet again, silver light blazing around me like armor. "You're strong," Kelvin acknowledged, settling into a fighting stance that spoke of decades of combat experience. "Stronger than I expected. But you're not thinking, Racheal. You're all rage and no strategy. That makes you predictable." "I don't need strategy to tear you apart!" I phased again, this time appearing above him, both hands coming down with claws extended to rip his head from his shoulders.

"Look at the routing logs from tonight's breach. The legacy code signature. It belongs to Wei Chen." Rafe stiffened, his posture instantly shifting into that of a soldier anticipating an ambush. "Chen? The architect from 2011? Victor ruined him thirteen years ago. He was blacklisted into oblivion, Damien. He doesn't have the infrastructure to pull off a multi-tiered system bleed like this. Not on his own."

He wore a tight black t-shirt that strained against the definition of his shoulders. He was eating a steak, a massive, bloody cut at eight in the morning, tearing into it with his teeth like a predator. His eyes were fixed on the window, but the energy radiating off him was entirely, dangerously focused on me. And Rafe. Rafe sat to Damian’s left, with the picture of terrifying composure. He sipped black coffee from a porcelain mug, his dark eyes tracking my every movement from behind the steam. He looked impeccable, as always, but there was a tightness around his mouth, a barely contained stillness that screamed he was holding on by the thinnest of threads.