Chương 6 - THE SILENT KITCHEN
The change in the environment was abrupt, absolute, and terrifying.
Inside the main kitchen just beyond the service swinging doors, the constant, chaotic rhythm of a high-end restaurant—the clattering of copper pans, the shouting of line cooks, the sizzle of searing steaks, the ringing of service bells—instantly vanished.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the entire staff.
David paused mid-gesture, his hands freezing on his cuffs as he frowned at the sudden quiet. "What is wrong with those idiots?" he muttered under his breath, turning around toward the double doors.
Naen, still crouched low near the floor with her paycheck in her hand, looked up.
Through the glass portholes of the swinging kitchen doors, several senior chefs—men who had worked in the city for twenty years, men who usually yelled at servers and commanded the kitchen like generals—were standing completely still.
Chef Henri, a massive Frenchman with a scarred face, had dropped his tasting spoon onto the stainless steel counter. His face was gray, his eyes wide with an absolute, primal fear as he stared past the kitchen line toward the archway leading into the main dining room.
Beside him, two line cooks slowly backed away from the pass, their hands raised slightly at their sides as if an apex predator had just stepped into their cage.
Naen slowly stood up, holding the damp envelope against her wet skirt.
Footsteps echoed from the dining room transition hall.
They were not the soft, hurried steps of wealthy diners or the light paces of waiters. They were heavy, measured, and absolute—the tread of men who owned every square inch of concrete they walked upon.
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The swinging doors didn't just open; they were pushed aside with a smooth, unyielding force.
Through the doorway stepped Roman.
