Ghost Stand By Him Novels & Stories

Ghost pulls out a couple of pieces of paper and throws them down on the table, from brother to brother they make their way up to Austin, Max and me. I look up at Ghost with a humbled look. I was the one that brought Ghost in and was proud as hell when he was patched in less than a year later. I had found him at a bar, some college frat boy was drunk and wanting to pick a fight. Ghost is six four and three hundred pounds of muscle. Kid was out in less than a minute. Ghost has some demons, that much is evident when you see the names of the men he has killed with his bare hands tattooed on his back. "Shane?" Austin asks as I take in the two pictures.

We exchanged glances for a second, but I was quick to avert my gaze and I didn't even know why. They've got tattoos on their faces and arms down to their shoulders. It was in the middle of the road, the sides surrounded by a lake. The one with a bird tattoo stepped forward, his smirk wider than the rest. “Look who we have here. It's Ghost” he laughed. “The soulless dead man who is here to haunt us today. Oh, I'm getting scared” another said. They laughed, and I let them hold their peace before they ended up in misery.

"Don't you come any closer, this doesn't involve you in any way old man" Gary says to Ghost who was now some meters several metres from them. He cocks his gun and points up at him. "I'll shoot if i have to, don't push me" he says breathing so heavily, he was so tensed and this is so unusual for a wolf like him, the rest of his guys just stood at their spots, unmoved, they seemed to be trapped with some kind of power and this was Ghost's doing.

Red lights glow, and the air is thick with whiskey and want. Twelve masked bidders lounge like predators, their paddles twitching. I sit front row, legs crossed, blazer buttoned to my throat, diamond choker glinting like a collar I’d never wear. I’m here to watch, to feed the secret itch that’s haunted me for years: What if I let go? Just once? Then he steps out. Silas, Ghost to those who whisper his name, materializes like a fever dream. He is shirtless. Inked skin ripples over muscle.

The night air was sharp, heavy with the smell of oil and dust. Ghost stood alone in the empty yard of an old truck stop, the neon sign long dead, the asphalt cracked with weeds. His hand rested on the butt of his pistol, his pale eyes fixed on the dark stretch of road. He’d chosen this ground. Away from the clubhouse. Away from Emily. This wasn’t a war for the Vipers. This was his reckoning. The rumble of engines came slow, deliberate, crawling closer until headlights washed across him. A blacked-out SUV rolled to a stop, doors opening with quiet precision. And then he stepped out.

I began to chant as I felt the blood of Ares mixing with my own until I could feel his power coursing through my veins. I lift my hand and outstretched it until my long black fingernail was technically touching the barrier around the clearing. I watch as the tip of my nails began to bend until it melt. I smirked before retracting my hand. "Ester darling, I see you are not happy that I am visiting you today." I spoke and summoned one of my crows. This one name was Ghost, he had a liking for lost souls that lingered on earth.He could spot them quickly, something I have used him for occasionally when I want to suck some of the souls power. There is nothing more delicious than a wandering soul.

he said, dropping to one knee in front of her without a second’s delay, his presence a deliberate barrier against the encroaching danger. The ceiling cracked again overhead, a spiderweb of fissures spreading like veins across the surface. Ghost moved on pure reflex, positioning his body to shield her from the most exposed section above, one hand bracing firmly against the wall just over her shoulder to create a makeshift canopy, while the other closed gently but unyieldingly around her wrist, steadying the glass before its contents could spill across them both. “Easy,” he murmured quietly, his tone a low anchor amid the turmoil. “I’ve got you now, and we’re getting clear.”

" So now, who is next?" After watching their friend's condition who is yelping in pain on the ground. The second goon took out a knife from his pocket and started moving towards darsh. Darsh just smirked as he was very well trained in kickboxing. But unfortunately, that's something the goons don't know. Darsh just tightens the camera pouch which is hanging with his belt. When the goon attacked him he dodged him easily. As soon as the goon missed it, in the blink of an eye the knife was on the ground and the pain was screeching in pain holding his abdomen.

Her mum would cry out blood and her dad would throw punches the size of a truck. The ghost who valued words more than gold had yet again decided to remain mute. Remind me, why am I the active partner in this?! Her eyes closely scanned him, evaluating this her ghost husband and wondered how his lean nature and incredible height did not mar his physique as he filled his white shirt and black suit pants with acute fitness.

“Hurry, Father. You must help Ian!” Adam steeled his nerves, took a deep breath, and forced his legs to take him across the hot, charred ground as fast as he could. He had to weave around a few spirits who were so opaque and dense that they could have easily passed as real people. He debated whether they were even aware of him as they moved aimlessly about in a zombie like manner.