Malcolm In Empire Novels & Stories

Chloe had named everything she established after her late godmother ‘Empire’ so the public had always wondered who owned the empire. From the school down to her factories and hospitals and companies, it all made sense now, the video had finally proven that the owner of these various establishments existed and it was just a little girl. Thou they haven’t figured out the complete story behind her success they were one step closer. Sandra had just arrived at Empire academy with a lot of bodyguards to protect her from the masses. On getting there she realized that the school was swamped with the press. Getting in was very difficult. Meanwhile Chloe had retreated to her office with Stephanie and

Saw the moment she pushed him away, the moment he saw in her gaze that she would never, ever look at him the way she looked at Adrian. Now the news of her survival — of her pregnancy — had reached him like a slap. A child. Adrian’s child. Malcolm’s jaw tightened. He rose from his chair, pacing before the fire. “He takes everything,” he muttered. “The throne’s favour, the army’s loyalty, even—” His voice broke into a bitter laugh. “Even the woman I want.” He struck the goblet from the table. It shattered, spilling red across the carpet like blood.

Her starlight eyes, burning with that permanent, unyielding ring of molten gold, looked up at the jade throne with an indifference that completely stripped the Emperor of his domestic majesty. "You spent twenty years hiding behind your mountains and your contracts, Malakai," Natalia continued, her layered, royal voice echoing through the chamber with an ancient, absolute dominance that made the gilded cedar pillars groan. "You thought that if you paid Alphas like Colton and Jaxon to hunt me in the shadows, your hands would remain clean. Now look down at your plaza. Where is your empire?" "My empire is written in the very code of your biology, girl!" Malakai roared, his veneer of aristocratic

I have to make it stop. “I promise you, Ophelia,” Malcolm continues, jolting my attention back to him. “Things are about to change. The days of the Elites’ reign are numbered. They’re on thin ice. And when their little hierarchy starts to shift…you’ll see the real Emmett.” Emmett’s angry snarling face flashes before my eyes. I have plenty of memories of him like that. Staring me down with pure rage and hatred. Saying terrible things to me. I can’t let myself believe that there’s anything more to him than that.

Malcolm, and his warriors, burst into the clearing. The rogue in front stepped forward, tall and broad, with scars crisscrossing his chest and one jagged line running from his eyebrow down to his cheek. His teeth flashed in a sharp grin when he saw Malcolm. “Well, if it isn’t Alpha Malcolm,” he sneered. “Didn’t expect you’d come crawling this far. Guess your little empire’s finally breaking apart.” Malcolm froze and frowned. His entire posture shifted. I was guessing they knew each other. “Kellan, You should’ve stayed gone.”

Tyler snapped, but I could hear the first thread of confusion weaving into his anger. Malcolm’s smile widened. He was a fisherman and he’d just felt a tug on his line. "It means, pup, that while your men were getting slaughtered on that road, your fearless leader here wasn’t where he was supposed to be. He was… otherwise engaged." His gaze flicked to me. "Should I tell him instead? It’s a good story. I’ve got a man who followed you all day and he came back with such... interesting news." "Shut the fuck up," I tried to yell but it came out as a whisper.

He wouldn’t allow himself to be swayed by such emotions. At least, that was what he told himself. But as he watched the branches bow to the wind’s embrace, he wasn’t so sure anymore. How was it that he could be ruthless enough to run a mafia empire, to kill without hesitation, yet be blind to the simplest truth—that he cared? How had he not realized that his lies and manipulations would only lead to his downfall? That he would lose the one person who had ever cared about him, leaving him utterly, irrevocably alone?

"His family runs half of Europe's pharmaceutical trade. Polite as hell off the field. Completely ruthless on it." "Twenty two?" "Audric Sterling. Old English money, He's been in three separate disciplinary hearings this year and walked out of all of them without a single mark on his record." "And number four?" A pause. "Zian Castillo," Marcus says. "Half Spanish, half Korean." Another pause, heavier this time. "Don't get on his bad side." "Good to know." "I'm serious." The warning itself is off character for someone like Marcus who clearly seems to hate me.

“And I sure as hell didn’t ask for you to come storming into my kitchen like some alpha male.” He tilted his head slightly, then set his elbows on the table, hands folded. “If I’d known what kind of man was hired to lead your team,” Malcolm said, voice quiet but razor sharp, “I would’ve stepped in a hell of a lot sooner.” I blinked, surprised at his words. “You’ve been the backbone of Caldwell Co,” Malcolm said. “And you've not been given enough credit for it.” My fingers curled tightly around the cloth napkin in my lap. I could see through his facade.

If they ever disagree on anything, no one knows. Ronan, the first, is known as the spine of the Hawk empire. He protects his brothers and sits at the helm of the affairs of the Hawk empire. Malachi, is the second, and he’s known to be the eye of the company. He keeps record of everything and keeps everything and everyone together. Suspicious business deals, suspicious and disloyal people are known to be sniffed out by Malachi. People say he has a spot on intuition, second to none.