Ghost Readers Novels & Stories

"They're recruits." Noah nodded slowly. "That's what we're thinking." I studied the photographs for another moment. The men weren't professionals in the traditional sense. They'd handled weapons well enough. They'd followed instructions. But they lacked identity. No history. No reputation. Nothing linking them to any established organization. Ghost Rider wasn't building an army. They were hiring tools. Disposable ones. The doctor tied another stitch before finally speaking. "You know," he said dryly, "most patients ask me whether they'll recover."

Every kindergarten had refused to accept him because of his violent tendencies. On the television, the news was reporting that a woman named Maisie Gray had won ten million dollars in the lottery. At that moment, Zoe suddenly went mad. She grabbed the knife in her hand and stabbed both Lucas and Edwin to death before stabbing herself. When the news reached me, I was drinking coffee in the villa I had just bought overseas. My father was fishing, my mother was tending to her flowers, and my brother was studying in Horvar. I still had a beautiful, happy life ahead of me.

They can light up satellites, call in drones, plead on live TV—it won’t matter. This place isn’t even on the grid. I made sure of it. Miles of forest surround us. And within them? Men in uniform. Hired ghosts. Ex-agents, ex-police. People who owe me, and know better than to ask questions. Noel—my ghost in cyberspace—rerouted everything. Calls. Signals. IP traces. They’re chasing smoke. She’s a ghost now. As if someone who was a crown now turned into a bubble, but in my ecosystem, so whenever she condensed. She precipitates again in my arms. Classic.

“I was born on one.” Later, I met an old contact in a parking garage, a hacker named Rhea. She looked up from her laptop as I approached, neon light glinting off her glasses. “I thought you were a ghost,” she said, smirking. “Guess the rumors were true.” “Depends on who you ask.”

Marco Bellini, the lead enforcer, is standing by a monitor, projecting a grainy image of a man in a tactical hoodie. “The intruder we’re calling ‘The Ghost’ has hit three of our shell companies in the last month,” Marco says. “He’s a forensic specialist. He doesn’t steal cars; he steals routing numbers. He’s looking for the Master Ledger.” A murmur of unease ripples through the room. I sit in the second row, feeling my mother’s gaze on the side of my head. She doesn’t see a son; she sees a piece of property that might be defective.

Hael’s P.O.V. The entire ride back to the clinic, I could hear Arianna’s voice in my head. I met a ghost. A ghost. Ghost. I’d killed more people than I cared to remember. Some I had to search for, traveling across this wasteland of an earth, while others were brought to me. So many left this world at my hands, had their last breath in my vicinity, uttered their pathetic goodbyes for my ears alone, but I had only ever met one ghost.

" I remembered staring down the dog I have never seen standing in front of your apartment. I remembered that I love lying down on this couch. I remembered the direction of your room even though I am not sure I have been there. I am sure that if I think deeper I will remember how your foodstuffs in your cabinets are arranged, I don't even know how I know that you have cabinets. You have to tell me why I know these things before I go insane. " Maisie sat close to Zach. " if I do tell you about it, you would think that I am crazy. " Zach froze at that. " that is my nickname for you isn't it. " Zach asked as Maisie released another gasp in shock. " It was. " Maisie said softly. " before you left

He wasn't a Julian, a Kael, or a Davis. ​He was a man in a simple hoodie, holding a physical, ink-stained notebook. He looked at Nora, then at the Amber-Eyed Girl, and finally at the global audience watching through the sky. ​"The story isn't yours anymore," the man said, his voice quiet but absolute. "And it isn't Nora's. I am the Ghost-Writer. And I’ve been hired by the Competition to write the 'Davis Ending'... by Replacing the Main Character."

“Don—you’re Ledger. Follow money from Saudi contractors to shell foundations to the idiot nephew who just bought a five-million-dollar townhouse for ‘study abroad.’ I want the human hand at the end of every wire.” Don’s smile was paper-thin. “My favourite game.” “Will—you’re Hands. Talk to ambos, ED triage nurses, morgue techs, not the press office. You’re looking for sudden spikes—panic attacks with tachycardia, sensory overload events, deaths coded as undetermined. The pill’s on the street; the street always talks before the reports do.” Will rose. “I’ll pack gum.” “Stacey,” Jack said, “you’re Ghost. You go under.”

Grabbing another bottle he gulped looking away. A few minutes passed before the door burst open and Lennox stepped in. Grimacing at the sight of both the idiots. "One of Alonso's men just got his consciousness," Lennox said and their ears perked up. Within seconds Hunter was on his feet stumbling a little because of all the alcohol in his system before stepping out of there. Agatha stood outside the warehouse staring stoically at Hunter. She has opened a portal for them.