Samuel Ibrahim Novels & Stories

Alpha Marco and I both snapped our heads up from where we sat at his desk to the man standing in the doorframe, who I assumed was Beta Alex given his extraordinarily large stature and solid build. “Julius, this is my Beta, Alex.” Alpha Marco introduced us as he stood from his chair. I extended my hand to Beta Alex as I straightened myself beside Marco. He took it with a surprisingly firm grip, nodding his head in a show of respect before his hazel eyes met mine. His smooth, dark skin paired with striking eyes and near-flawless features made him look more like a doll than a man, but his expression reminded me of a soldier. He had none of the sadistic playfulness that Dean carried with him, in

Halfway through rushing to change into his swim trunks, the words of the reporter on the television hit him like a bolt, and he grabbed the remote, clicking record like he had back home anytime something about this aired. "Felicita Morales, the widow of Trinidad Morales gave birth today to a baby girl, Trini Morales, named after the father she'll never get to meet. Trinidad, who lost his life just over a month ago in the ring after a blow to the head during a fight that burst an aneurism in his brain, was only twenty-two when the tragedy occurred."

~~18 years old~~ Trevor alighted from the old beat-up truck he often drove and sprinted inside the clinic. He halted by the reception desk and puffed out a breath whilst holding his side. The blonde sitting in the tiny cubicle tilted her slender brows as she stared at him. "I am Trevor Williamson. My mom is here." The receptionist, whose name on her badge reads Charity nodded. She fixed the glasses she had slid down her nose to assess the boy who looked to be in his late teenage years back to her face.

“Of course, there is. Aside from the fact that Gabriel is a terrible teacher, what is he going to teach you?”, Samuel says. “What? So, you are the jealous type now, Sammy?” Gabriel confronts him. “Macho-man, it’s not about besting you. It’s about what is best for her, ” Samuel says. “And you know what’s best for me?” Rachael says. Samuel hands her a bottle of juice. “Rachael, don’t be fooled by his skills. He is an immortal,”.

"Tunde Ibrahim. He wants you. And he instructed me to bring you to him." I blinked, with my heart suddenly thumping in between my chest. "You.. you work for him?" I asked with uncertainty. And Sam gave me a firm nod in reply. Something which made an unbelievable scoff to escape my lips, before I could even stop myself. "How could you lower your standards into working for a monster like Tunde Ibrahim?" "Well, you didn't see him as a monster when you were warming his bed." Sam said, rising up to his feet. With anger in his eyes, as he clenched his fists.

He walked to the pantry while they continued with their discussions. “What is your name, Cadet?” “My name is Samuel, Your Excellency.” “Fine name. What about your brother?” “His name is Gerald.” “Good. How old are you?” “I'm sixteen years old.” “Ha! Sixteen years? And you were on a suicide mission because of your brother-in-law?” Samuel looked down and he encouraged him, “Don't be shy. That is one of the attributes of a soldier. Dying for a good course.”

The one with a stone as big as a baby elephant, Samuel’s voice echoed in her mind. I hear you! I’m coming, she replied, focusing harder, tuning into the pulse of his mind. Be careful. They might be hiding. I can’t see them now, Samuel warned. Don’t worry. I’m almost there, she said. And she was, moving faster than any normal person could, her legs barely touching the ground, as if gravity had given her a pass. Samuel tried to buy the clinic time by luring the rebels away. Five men had followed him, four with machetes, one with a bow. The rest stayed behind and slaughtered everyone they found, patients, villagers, and missionaries.

Samuel instructed as well as announced at the same time. “Right on it, sir. Right on it!” Kingston said gleefully. Samuel had never seen or heard Kingston sounding so excited like a child. He had always acted like a robot without emotions, which really suited Samuel, because he was equally a man without emotions. Samuel shook his head the moment they began to drift towards the “emotions” territory, because if he stayed there, he would be forced to think about Ciara Summers, Doctor Pedro’s unrealistic words, and the heavens forbid it, Love.

“Samuel is the second son. First generation. His father is the head of Johnson's co.” “Fuck,” Kristina spit out, “that man is fucking rich, Emma. He can buy this town if he so pleases.”

Damian answered. This time there was no greeting. No introduction. No disguise. "You're making a mistake." Chief Ibrahim Bako. The old man's voice sounded different. Not confident. Not amused. Tired. That frightened Damian more than arrogance ever could. "Why?" Damian asked. A long silence followed. Then Bako replied. "Because Samuel was wrong." Father Michael's eyes immediately lifted. The old priest leaned forward. Listening. "Wrong about what?" Damian asked. Another pause. "People." The answer sounded genuine.