Novel & Cerita Ghost Rider Fanfiction

Zander's POV I sat in my wheelchair, staring a hole through the small screen in my hand. I'd faced down armies of thousands of rogues and stood my ground against the Council's interrogation, but I'd never felt like this—like a shaky, nervous pup. I knew what disappearing meant. For the person left behind, ghosting was a cruelty worse than death. I was terrified that the vibrant Liana I remembered would hate me—that she'd want nothing to do with me.

Hopefully, by morning the sky would be light and he would be back to rights. A squeal penetrated the buzzing in his ears, shocking him into motion. Gair dropped to his belly and slid across the ground to look over the cliff and waiting for a flash of lightning to show him what was below. When it came, he felt his stomach drop. The slope he had just climbed up was crumbling away as the waves crashed against it. He had only just made it across in time. Lightening flashed again, this time so bright it was like daylight for a moment. How had the water risen so fast? It must have been crashing right on his heels. Or had he fallen asleep on the grass for a while? He looked back down at the crumbli

And with that, she left. Hardin continued sipping his beer, his mind troubled. It had been a long time since he'd seen Velia, and he couldn't shake off the worry that had been growing inside him. He wished he could see her, just to know she was okay. He was trying to lay low, as he'd been told, to avoid putting her in trouble. The thought of her being punished was unbearable. He couldn't bear the thought of it. *** Ghost walked into the room, her eyes scanning the space until they landed on Hacker. He was sitting on the couch, a big grin on his face and a small gift box in his hand.

“Because something about that scene didn’t sit right. The suitcase, the call, the way Diesel was hit, it was all clean. You don’t shoot like that.” Luca met his gaze, hope flickering beneath the bruises. “You believe me.” Ghost’s voice softened just enough to sting. “I don’t know what I believe. But I sure as hell know Viper doesn’t want me finding out.” Luca’s breath hitched, and for a second, the weight between them wasn’t betrayal it was history. Nights spent patching bullet wounds. Laughter over cheap whiskey. The brotherhood they both lost. Ghost broke the silence. “You got forty-eight hours. You find something that proves your story, I’ll back you. But if you’re lying…”

Jobs were scarce when your last name was Chen and everyone in Coldwater knew your father died owing money to half the town. The straightaway opened up before me, and I twisted the throttle. The speedometer climbed at eighty, ninety, one hundred. My competitor, a rider on a Yamaha R1 who went by "Razor," was half a bike length behind. I could feel his frustration radiating through the night air. He'd been winning these underground races for six months straight until Ghost Rider appeared three months ago. He had no idea Ghost Rider was a woman. None of them did. That was the point.

Knox is the first to appear, his eyes going wide the second he takes in the scene, me, sitting calmly on what’s left of Ghost’s bike, chocolate smeared on my fingers and a hammer lying beside the wreckage like the aftermath of a crime scene. And then Ghost appears. He stops dead, his eyes locking onto the shredded seat, the slashed tires, the ruined paint, the crushed tank. His jaw drops just slightly, like his brain is still catching up to what his eyes are telling him. “What the fuck…” he breathes. His voice is barely more than a whisper as he takes another slow step forward. “What the fuck have you done?” Oh, now he’s hurt? Good. “Vesper!” he snaps, his voice louder now, sharp with disbel

The shadows at the edges of the runes shivered like they were tasting the air for blood, for fear, for dominance. Sierra clenched her fists, fingers grazing the chalk. She whispered the trigger phrase, her voice tight, sharp. A flicker of silver sparked at her fingertips—but it was wilder than usual. The shadows responded instantly, snaking higher, twisting faster than she expected. Her anger, her jealousy, her protectiveness over Malick—it all fed the spell, amplifying it beyond the controlled parameters she’d intended.

"You are the reason I haven't turned into the monster they want me to be. You are the Anchor. If the Wolf is gone, then I will be the Wolf for both of us. Do you understand?" I leaned down and kissed him—a kiss that tasted of desperation, ash, and a "Lagos-grit" promise. In that moment, the "Void-Hybrid" heir flared, sending a jolt of raw energy through our joined lips. For a split second, Dante’s eyes turned gold. The skiff crashed. Not a clean landing, but a bone-shattering slide through the corrugated metal roofs of the old refinery docks. We came to a halt in a cloud of steam and "Lead-Dust."

In a palace where everyone else either feared my shadow or plotted to steal my throne, Thorne was the only wolf who looked at the King and simply saw his brother-in-arms. I reached up with my gloved fingers, carefully sliding the small hood off Ghost’s head. The white hawk blinked, his amber eyes instantly locking onto the open winter sky before he launched himself upward into the air with a powerful snap of his wings. He soared higher, sweeping circles above the fields. Normally, Ghost was an extension of my own mind, diving, tracking, and returning the exact microsecond my silver whistle sounded across the ridge. Today, my mind was a chaotic mess. Images of Ava’s sweating, pale face, the s

（William’view） After leaving Chicago, I went back to the only life I truly knew. The life of a mercenary. Five years of comfort hadn't dulled my instincts. It was like a blade that had been kept in its sheath—once drawn, it was sharper than ever. I wasn't William Windemere anymore. I was 'Ghost' Noah, the king of mercenaries who called the shots in the black market. I reveled in it. The adrenaline of calculating trajectories in a firefight, the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat on a stealth op. This was the real me. A man who lived on the edge of a knife.