Claimed By The Rogue Alpha novel Chapter 67

The alarm jarred Andrea awake. She gasped, the drool hanging from her mouth seeped back in and choked her. She coughed. Her eyes watering up as she did.

The fuck. Getting hold of herself, she wiped her mouth clean. Her head throbbed; her eyes were puffy.

She had stayed up all night, writing. Who knew writing could be this difficult? Something as little as an email had drained her dry.

She glanced at the alarm clock. Three minutes past ten, it was. She still felt drowsy, and didn't feel like going out. However, work needed to be done. Lots of work. She stretched while yawning out loud.

Scattered on the table were sheets of papers. Some were ripped part, others ruled out and a good number, scrunched up in a ball. Her laptop sat open and next ti it was an empty cup of her cappuccino. As if!

The damn beverage couldn't keep her awake. But anyway, she wasn't indignant. Her body had been so damn beaten from the stress of writing.

Sitting upright on the chair Andrea brought her laptop to life and accessed her word file. The piece was rife with mistakes, however, she wasn't going to be hard on herself. It was even a wonder how she'd scaled through the night, writing this full length piece.

She began editing the work.

Some time later, she was done. She left to go freshen up and prepare for the day. Reappearing, she printed out the stuff. Copies upon copies of it. She stacked them together and shoved them into her tote bag. Ready and set for the day, she pulled the front door open.

***.

Local news outlets and dailies:

From: [email protected]

To:

BCC: [email protected]

[email protected]

[email protected]

[email protected]

Subject: WHAT I THINK YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THE MISSING FRIDGETONIAN GIRL.

It all started as news that didn't really matter to both us as Brookehurt citizens and Frigetonians/ers. It all started as news we all didn't give a damn about, because it isn't unusual, or perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise if a twenty-something year old disappears without any trace and from all account, without any struggle. However as time went by, we realised we'd been wrong and how odd that was.

Facebook

When I took up the job of a housekeeper in the home of #vintagewine boss, I expected a humdrum, nondescript life. However, I was so far from the truth. The Malchian Grove( his abode) is so large in size, it'll take more than a month to fully explore. And now, while I was enjoying this new adventure of exploring, Fate decided to add more drama into my slowly-being-made-interesting life when #OliviaHaynes entered the picture. Yes, the missing girl is alive after all, but it's only a matter of time before she surrenders to the dust. Some people—a lot of people will see this write off as a work of a jobless person, a news monger. You are right about the first part though. There's no way I'd retain my work in the Malchian Grove after posting this, but that should be the sacrifice I'd make for coming clean. Hope my conscious will free me now.

***.

For the next 24 hours, the entire world of social media was thrown into a frenzy. The news had migrated from the initial sites of Facebook and Twitter and travelled to other platforms, faster than the speed of light.

Andrea was seated in the dining, a devilish grin spread on her face. She'd been receiving countless notifications and emails. She hadn't yet received them because she was still marvelling in the stunt she'd pulled. She wasn't done yet. She was so going to deal with The Master he'd regret hiring her in the first place.

Tapping on the Facebook icon, she read the replies. The comments were divided: some people expressed doubt, others were so annoyed at the possibility that the cherished, innocent Fridgeton girl was in the hands of a sick monster. And a little fraction were just flat ass insulting, questioning the truth in the post. Andrea set her fingers in motion and typed a message.

The Malchian grove is located at the far west of the werewolf city, Brookehurt—yes, you heard me right. The monster who holds Olivia captive is a wolf—along the West-Central Brookehurt highway. I have video proof, which I'll leave below. This (the scene in the video) took place during the raid that happened a week ago.

She pinned the post. Going on to Twitter. She forwarded the exact message, same as the video. Done sending the message, she shut her phone. An ugly smirk appeared on her face.

"Let the game begin."