Mal Rotten To The Core Novels & Stories

"Can I get my usual?" "Coming right up." I found my usual table in the corner and collapsed into the chair. My hands were shaking. My eyes were burning with tears I refused to shed. Three weeks. In three weeks, I'd be Mrs. Diego De Luca. I'd be trapped in a house with a man who'd never smiled. A man who'd killed his own uncle. A man who buried people alive. The rumors swirled in my head. Diego De Luca. The Deadliest Man Alive. He doesn't smile. He doesn't joke. He doesn't play games. He kills without remorse. He's a predator in a thousand-dollar suit.

The Core exploded with silver light. Dr. Laurent’s scream echoed one final time. Then vanished. Gone. Forever. Silence fell. Absolute silence. The man who wanted immortality had finally disappeared. Then suddenly the Core shook violently. Much harder than before. Cracks spread everywhere. Fast. Dangerously fast. Then Adrian’s mother turned. Her expression changed immediately. Fear. Real fear. “No.” Everyone froze. “What?” Amara asked. The woman looked around. Then upward. Then at the collapsing network. “The Core is dying.”

Endless skin rising and falling with breath, wrinkled like mountains. I forced my gaze up— And saw it. A golden eye, massive as the moon, peeling open slow. The true heart of this entire world. The Omniscient Core. The final boss. No—worse. Not just a boss. The core of the system. The one who'd ordered the milk. It didn't swing. Didn't strike. Just stared at Darren. And Darren—locked in that crazed grin—started glitching out. Pixel by pixel, he broke apart, crumbling into nothing.

The campsite suddenly filled with a repugnant smell, like rotting flesh. Nathan leaped forward just as the creatures burst from the shadows. They were tall and bulky, twice the height of Nathan, with dangling arms, wide hands, thin bony fingers, vicious claws, and protruded fangs shining with poison. It was like seeing a vampire experience death over and over again, unwilling to die. I stared in horror, a blood lust and anger evident in their faces. I lost my balance, collapsing in panic. Everything became a bur. Junto was flung aside by one of the beast's pale hands. Then it dove after the Shape Shifter with jaws the size of a bear trap.

A rough breath. “I always wanted emotional vulnerability to become medically necessary.” Despite the panic suffocating him Damon snorted softly. “You’re handling this weirdly well.” “I’m dissociating professionally.” The chamber trembled again. Hard enough this time that part of the floor near the far wall collapsed inward into darkness. Smoke and heat poured deeper into the room. “CORE MELTDOWN IN FIVE SECONDS.” Seraphine blinked slowly. “That countdown is stressing me out.” Mira looked toward the neural core desperately.

Her father had never been involved with such dangerous people—let alone the mafia. ‘And… why does he look at me with such hatred?’ ​Sara dug through her memories, searching for some past transgression. But she had never wronged anyone. ​BANG! ​Her thoughts shattered as the bedroom door was kicked open. ​Damon Moretti strode in. He discarded his suit jacket carelessly, leaving him in a white shirt with the top two buttons undone, exposing his sturdy throat. His footsteps were heavy. He reeked of expensive whiskey, and his eyes burned with a rage capable of incinerating anything in its path.

"Okay, okay, easy. I’m just telling you about my favorite event of the day. Relax and keep yourself calm. I’m not sure if you’ll like what I’ll say next…" I think I know what he’ll say. The agency wants me to accept the offer because I’d clearly stated my disgust when it was offered. "Tic wanted you to accept the offer." Tic is short for Terror-In-Closet. The guy that I inadvertently caused a scandalous incident with. I think I’m still absent-minded that I didn’t straighten my facts.

It was finally evening and I was finally resting, getting ready to leave for the night, when my assistant slowly walked into my office “Mr thornfield is here to see you ma.” “please let him in” I replied When Micheal walked in, he didn’t waste time with pleasantries, he closed the door behind him and placed his tablet on the table, sliding it towards me. “Monique isn’t just Blake’s girlfriend,” he said. She’s been siphoning funds, forging approvals and manipulating internal audits. I skimmed through the files, my expression unreadable. Fake cridentials. Shell accounts. A child she’d hidden. Transfers that led back to the trust group’s primary account.

The world should end on a Monday. There’s something honest about that. Brutal, yes, but clean. A Monday already has the emotional texture of damp socks and unpaid bills, so adding zombies feels less like a cosmic betrayal and more like management escalating a complaint. Unfortunately, the world chooses Thursday at 6:17 p.m., while Maya Rodriguez is standing barefoot in her kitchen, trying to decide whether expired sour cream is a negotiable concept. “It smells fine,” Dex says from behind her.

As if we weren’t seconds away from total disaster “Mom? Are you still in there?” Damian knocked again. The door handle rattled as he tried to nudge it open. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! We're so fucked— “I—I’m good,” Mrs. Morales called out, her voice shaky but surprisingly steady. “The knots are just… a little more stubborn than we thought. Valia’s going deeper. That’s all.” What?! I stared at her in disbelief. She was lying there underneath Hurst’s throbbing cock, her lips still shiny with spit and his cum, and she was covering for him?