Rachel Brockman Novels & Stories

At some point, I think I might just not leave my house. That’s the only place that hasn’t been invaded. The door to the room swings open, and Ethan steps in with a woman dressed in a lab coat. I recognized her because she was the Blake Family's private doctor. One of seven, actually. Rachel Buvik. Long silver hair, pretty blue eyes, and a height that I would love to have. 6’2. She used to be a military doctor. We’ve spoken at least twice. Mostly during the year Ethan was poisoned.

he said. Rachel froze. “And now,” he added, eyes sharpening, “Dominic Morello’s wife. Did I stutter?” The air left her lungs. How did this stranger know that? Who was he? He extended his hand politely. “Richard,” he said. “I work for Bryce. His assistant. Do you remember me now?” Everything inside Rachel turned to ice. She tried to stand but her body refused. Richard noticed. “You didn’t come here with me willingly, did you?” he asked quietly.

“There's another group that's on research duty, but they're in my pack. You could get someone to- ” “I'll do it. ” Rachel was the most quiet woman I'd ever met, but she was too smart, really and in charge of everything that had to do with technology in the pack. She claimed she didn't need help, and that proved to be true from the beginning. She'd definitely be an important addition. Nobody had the choice to protest because there really was no other choice. Our differences were put aside to end Spencer Auster, but… “Spencer Auster had Simon, what if he has someone in Crescent Shade?" I blurted.

Beth “Bitch—did you see I*******m?!” Rachel stormed into my office like she’d just won an Oscar and lost her filter. Her curls were a halo of chaos, cheeks flushed with pure dopamine-fueled triumph as she tossed the package onto my desk like it contained secrets wrapped in sin. I set my phone down without replying to Dr. Cole’s last message. One crisis—or conversation—at a time. “Yes, I saw,” I said, leaning back in my chair and lacing my fingers behind my head, letting her bask in it. “Nearly ten thousand likes. Hundreds of comments. All from a single post, mind you. A post that went live yesterday.”

The meeting took time as the new investors kept on asking lots of questions which was answered ofcourse. I got out of the conference hall and was about to walk out of the elevator when my phone beeped. I brought it out and frown on seeing the message from my assistant. I stomped out of the elevator and matched to my office where I was told Chloe was causing commotion with my secretaries. What the fvck is wrong with that girl. For crying out loud, why would she come to my company to fight my employees. Such guts she has. "Chloe I thundered as I got to the scene to see her landing a piercing slap on one of my secretary and dragging the hair of the other.

"After this, what's your next plan?" "Well, that's where you are coming. If I'm going to get rid of both Alice and Xander, I need to break them apart. It's pretty obvious that Alice is the mastermind of this whole tragic mess, so we do need to hit her where it hurts much, need five years of physiotherapy to heal," Rachel replied before emptying her now very lukewarm diet coke. "I come in exactly where?" Amy asked again, not really sure where she comes to play.

He was just surveying the Iron Hill lands with an original member from that pack. “I was thinking I would wait all day to speak with you, Alpha Alrick. Thank you for welcoming me and being cooperative. My name is Rachel Mullion. Did you bring the Iron Hill member with you?” She had a slight Canadian Accent and Rachel sounded more like she spoke French more often than English.

"Clancy's grandson bought that mansion over on Bakersridge." "What nonsense are you saying? The man's a biker; for heaven's sake, where would he get that kind of money?" Natalie took a sip of the water the waitress had placed in front of her as she savored the look on Jen's face. Oh, this was going to be good.

“Rachel, you’re not really considering this move, are you?” She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” “Look, someone else has taken over your slot in the dance studio and she’s gathered a huge fanbase since she resumed.” “Who?” “Laverne. She’s Taylor’s cousin and teaches aerobic salsa to middle-aged folks.” “Oh, it’s a family business now, isn’t it?” Rob snorted. “She pays for her slots.” “As I did.” “What’s your point?” “Nothing.” “You’ve been gone for almost two years, Rachel. Did you expect me to just keep your slots open permanently? I’ve got bills to pay, sis.”

He said, this time with a smile. "How long has Rachel been working here and do you have any pictures," I said, hoping for it to be true. "A year or so later, she works at night only, and her home is around the corner," he said, rippling in the direction of her home. "But why are asking,"