Novels by Ibukunoluwa David

Keon's POV:The scraping of Sabrina’s heavy chair against the stone floor grates in an unsettling, metallic way, slicing clean through the suffocating tension in the room. She moves, her steps silent and fluid, completely at odds with the violent composure she carries. I turn my head slightly to track her. There is something dark and volatile shifting in her eyes, an ocean of controlled fury. If I weren't the reigning Alpha, if I didn't have royal blood running hot through my veins, I might have lowered my head from the sheer, crushing wave of power radiating off her.She steps up the dais toward the Delta, stopping a precise half-foot behind my left shoulder. Even in the depths of her silent rage, her ingrained respect for the hierarchy stands firm. She doesn't breach my space, but her presence fills every inch of the hall."So..." Sabrina’s voice breaks the quiet, clear and razor-sharp. "What you're trying to say is that you were targeted and manipulated to systemically weaken this

Keon's POV The Delta's scream slowly dissolved into ragged, uneven breaths. No one in the chamber moved. Not the guards stationed at the perimeter. Not the elders gathered around the perimeter. Not Rowan. Not even Sabrina. The only sound left echoing off the high stone walls was the old wolf's labored breathing as he cradled his ruined shoulder tightly against his chest, blood seeping through his fingers. Derrick remained standing directly over him, his pupils still narrowed into thin, predatory slits. Dark fur covered the backs of his broad hands before slowly, reluctantly retreating beneath his skin once more as his wolf yielded control back to his human mind. "...Enough." My voice carried quietly through the cavernous chamber, flat and heavy. Derrick didn't look at me immediately. For one long, agonizing heartbeat, the entire room remained suspended in the space between violent execution and forced restraint. Then, without a word, my brother took one measur

Keon's POV: The chamber had become so quiet that the steady, low hiss of the burning torches seemed to echo off the vaulted ceiling. Not a single chair scraped against the stone floor. Not a single person shifted their weight. Even the oldest, most battle-hardened wolves in the room knew better than to interrupt Derrick once he reached this point. He stood over the old Delta without crowding him. He didn’t need to. The sheer difference in height and presence alone was enough to pin the man in place. "...Let's start again," Derrick’s voice remained cool, almost conversational, cutting through the heavy air. "Where were you yesterday?" The old Delta swallowed hard, his eyes darting briefly toward the ancient black granite table before locking back onto the prince. "I... I already submitted my official report, Prince Derrick—" "You did," Derrick agreed with a slow nod, his expression entirely unreadable. "And it was false." A sharp muscle jumped beneath the old wolf's jaw, th

Keon's POV: The torch fell back into place with a heavy, metallic thud as the massive oak doors slammed shut behind us. This room, its history ran deep into the very bedrock of our territory. It was a space built on ancient foundations, a chamber designed for a past that our ancestors had tried to bury. Four Clans. One table. Some clans had stood the test of time, adapting and surviving the turning of the ages, while others had vanished completely into ash and memory. Yet, through the rise and fall of regimes, one thing had remained completely constant. The table remained. Carved from a single, gargantuan slab of black granite, its polished surface formed an enormous, intricate compass. North. East. West. South. Time and centuries of heavy use had weathered the edges smooth, but not even the turning of the world had managed to shift its direction. Legend claimed that before the Great Wolf-Witch War, the stone compass had turned freely, spinning on a mystical axis to refl

Keon's POV:Sleep had become a courtesy I occasionally extended to my body. Nothing more.The dawn hadn't yet broken, but the palace was already beginning to stir beneath my window. Guards changed shifts below in practiced, rhythmic silence, their armor clinking softly in the heavy air. Life continued. It always did, entirely indifferent to the wreckage left in its wake.I rested both hands against the cold stone railing of the balcony, leaning my weight forward and letting the rain-soaked wind strike my face. The icy droplets bit into my skin, but it still wasn't enough to drown out her scent.Gods. Even after washing. Even after changing clothes twice. Even after forcing myself to stay on the absolute opposite side of the palace, away from her wing of the castle, she lingered. Not on my skin, where the physical trace could be scrubbed away, but somewhere deep beneath it. The bond pulsed quietly beneath my ribs, simply existing.I closed my eyes, a heavy sigh escaping into the dark

Winter's POV: Neither of us spoke for several minutes. The fire had burned lower in the hearth, leaving the room bathed in soft amber and silver where the moonlight slipped through the curtains. Somewhere outside, rain tapped gently against the stone balcony, a rhythmic, soothing backdrop to the storm that had just settled between us. Sabrina broke the silence first. "...Can I see it?" I looked up, momentarily taken aback by the request. "The mark," she clarified, speaking carefully this time, as if handling something incredibly fragile. "The soulmate mark." For a heartbeat, I simply stared at her. The secret had been hidden under layers of fabric and concealment charms for so long that revealing it felt like exposing a raw nerve. Then, without a word, I nodded. I stood from the chair, suddenly very aware of my own body again. Derrick's oversized shirt hung loosely around my frame, the soft fabric brushing against my thighs as I turned around, turning my back to her. "It isn'