Rachel Storm Novels & Stories

Since she said trash about me, why not give her something to cry about, I smiled and uploaded the picture with the hashtag #Rachel Ivanov one of Canada top model, the wife of a billionaire heir Rolland Ivanov, is seen leaving a hotel with her secret lover

she rasped when she saw me. "Yes. Who are you?" "My name is Rachel. I'm from Silver Moon Pack." She coughed, wincing. "Or I was. Before I ran." "Why did you run?" Garrett asked. Rachel's eyes darted towards him, then back to me. "Because I overheard something I wasn't supposed to. About Leighton. About his… allies." "The Blood Moon Cult," Kael said. Rachel nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't even know they were real. Thought they were just scary stories. But I saw her. The woman with red eyes."

That's harsh, I always thought our trust in each other was ironclad. Some pack members reacted with relief over her departure, urging me to reject her as a mate and ban her from the pack. Officially, she is still my mate and a member of Storm Forest, which stings many, including her sister Rachel. Since Rain disappeared, Rachel has been around me constantly. She suggested this morning that I mark her as my mate and Luna and do the chase on her during the Lupercalia Full Moon festival. Absolutely not! I can't stand Rachel acting this way, knowing that her sister is my fated mate. I have done little to keep her away from the packhouse, and especially these last few weeks, her behavior is start

“Oh! She’s tall. Taller than me, and she has this long—” “Ugly,” a voice cuts in. “Long, ugly, pitch black hair packed into two pony tails with two bows... and the kind of face only a mother could lie about.” Both of us freeze. That voice. That tone. Slowly, we turn. Rachel! She stands three aisles down, framed by fluorescent light and arrogance. Her wolves flank her like handpicked ornaments, three omegas dressed too neatly for a grocery errand, stepping into place beside her with performative precision.

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.”

Everyone waits to hear who our new leader is and that's when all of a sudden I hear my name. "Your new Leader and Alpha of the pack is Lillian Caterina Smith." I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned around and looked at the stage as everyone was turning around looking at me, I am shocked did I hear this right Am I the new alpha they named me their leader.

A small, grey haired woman seemed to appear out of thin air. “Oh my days,” she gasped, “what happened to you?” she exclaimed. “Maddie, run and fetch the doc. Apologise for the early wake up call but tell him it’s urgent.” Maddie, a young, brunette girl with freckled cheeks and a button nose, ran off to do what Lileth had asked her.

Some murmured to each other, others glanced her way with curiosity. “They’re looking at you,” Ethan whispered, his lips quivering into a small smile. “They’re looking at the dress,” Rachel corrected, her voice barely above a whisper. Before Ethan could respond, a voice called out, “Rachel! Ethan!” They turned to see Emma Stone waving at them from the grand staircase. Beside her stood Rihanna, Beyoncé, and several other A-list celebrities, each dressed in one of Rachel’s designs. The sight took Rachel’s breath away. Seeing her creations on these powerful, beautiful women felt like a dream come true.

Ethan froze as he was about to reach the door. He stared, stunned, through the glass panel. Rachel sat at the center of her group of friends, her face caked in heavy makeup—nothing like the sweet, delicate image she usually presented. She looked smug, even arrogant, as she basked in the attention. "Of course I pulled it off," she said, flipping her hair. "That old fiancee of his—Stella—joined some top-secret aerospace program. She won't be back for at least ten years."