A Man Called Ove Novels & Stories

Despite his resistance, Ove found himself compelled to reveal the chilling truth that had been concealed within the recesses of his consciousness. In a moment of ominous clarity, Ove's voice pierced the air, delivering a dire warning of Satan's nefarious designs. "He is still scheming, always plotting, but his aim today is to burn this city to the ground," he blurted out, his words laden with a sense of dread and urgency.

Third Person POV ---- On the other side ---- A man was walking on a busy street, dressed in a black overcoat with a turtle neck sweater inside, his black hair a bit longer pushed backward. He didn't turn anywhere to look around and kept walking straight, passing by hundreds of people on the street he was talking to someone on the phone call. "We should tell everyone about you so that you can take over", the person on the other side of the call said.

The man was the oldest after Ivor, and he had the aura of a Thrasher. “It isn’t him, but him,” Ivor laughed and pointed at Mane. Before Vital Orange could say anything Ivor continued, “This is Mane. He came from a village to this place under my recommendation. He is a Predator!”

“I would ask you again for the last time boy. What is your name?” said Charles with a smile. “First tell me yours.” Oluwole said. “You tell me your name and I’d tell you mine.” Oluwole in his state could tell that there could be a chance of the man before him not being a Nigerian judging by his really light complexion. His skin had a far lighter tone compared to those he sees every day in school, church and in his neighborhood. Charles looked like one of those actors in the action movies daddy usually watches. He put his hands into his pockets and surprisingly found the picture of him and his dad in one of them. Oluwole was a bit curious as to how it got there.

Oliver remembered what had happened in the dressing room and the gossips about Callum's mistresses. He dared to think Callum's tastes weren't limited to women only, or at least the companions he picked surely didn't swing only one way. "It's a pleasure. Are you an actress?" The man squeaked "Oh, my! Yes, I’m an artist. He's absolutely charming, my darling.." Callum accepted the cards one of the Irish offered him and said “It runs in the family." Ophelia looked between the two. "We're cousins." Oliver provided. "I'm so jealous," Ophelia said and looked back at Oliver. He tried to guess what the man's real name could be but didn't come up with anything.

He smirked and leaned back on the chair, “A bit small for the ruler of the largest pack in the realm, don't you think?” “I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Keyleth stepped to my side, her arms folded against each other. “Tell us about the rot and we might just let you live.” “What shall I call you?” The wolven asked again, the smirk on his face dropped. “Oliver. Just Oliver.” — “Koren?” The word rolled off Keyleth's tongue as the male looked with obvious annoyance. “Soren.” He snapped at her, turning a sharp gaze towards me. “Soren stris, the dark wolven rises, and the realm falls.”