Novel & Cerita Ghost Wars Novel

Taking a sip of my whiskey, I felt the familiar burn as it slid down my throat, praying to whatever deity would listen that it'd numb the pounding headache beginning to overwhelm all my other senses. “Fuck me,” I mumbled under my breath as I opened the book titled, ‘History of the Great War.’ It was the usual stuff, talking about the first days of humans discovering the supernatural world was real, the attacks within our governments and armies, and the billions who had died. God, it had been a cluster fuck, a well-planned cluster fuck that none of us had seen coming. The war had been going on for a little over seventy years by the time I was born, just in time for me to participate in the la

Clara's POV. Nine days had passed since I signed the contract and became Clara Cross on paper. Nine days. In just over a week, my life had turned completely upside down, and somewhere along the way, I realized refusing to break had become my only choice. The whole of America already knew the Ghost of Wall Street had a wife. Ironically, I found out the exact same way everyone else did. Through headlines and posts scattered across the internet. The Ghost of Wall Street Is Married. Who Is Clara Cross?

“Are you guys ready to finally do as we were formed to do?” My eyes glared at Callighan as he lifted his head up to the sky. Once that loud howl came from him, we all prepared ourselves as the wolves charged at us altogether. All we could do was fight to our hearts desire. One charged at me and right when I thought life was over for me, the gunshots came right after him. Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! However, those shots were not enough… -To Be Continued- The End of Book 2

This feels lighter, automatic—like stepping where the ground has already been mapped. They call me Ghost. It simplifies things. Ghosts don’t leave witnesses. Or questions. Or pieces of themselves behind. Conversation thins as I pass. People shift their feet. I registered the looks without meeting them. Curiosity from the younger ones. Calculation from the handlers. And something closer to superstition from everyone else. I am twenty-two years old. I’ve been killing since I was fourteen. The numbers don’t settle into pride or shame. They sit like inventory. A medic steps aside as I pass. His eyes drop to the insignia stitched inside my collar—black thread on gray. Ghost-class comes without ra

CHAPTER 30 – GHOSTS OF THE HIGHWAY The alley was chaos incarnate. Rain poured like a relentless drumbeat, washing blood, mud, and ash into the cracks of the pavement. The ledger lay scattered, pages fluttering in the wind like wounded birds. Smoke curled from shattered streetlights, and every shadow seemed alive, moving, waiting. I stood amidst it all, chest heaving, soaked to the bone, knuckles raw from fighting. And Luca… he was gone.

Her eyes swept across my small studio apartment with contempt. “I heard the rent for this place is ridiculously cheap. There couldn’t possibly be something wrong with it, could there?” I said flatly, “It’s quite good. It’s spacious, bright, and the neighbors are nice.” Whitley laughed exaggeratedly. “Neighbors? Would you even dare to go out at night in this building? I heard someone died here.” She was just here to gloat. I could not be bothered to deal with her. So, I turned to close the door.

My senses sharpened, which made it easier for me to spot if anyone was out here, but fortunately no one was. I finally arrived at the burial grounds, but the site there scared me. My blood froze, and my eyes widened. I was standing a few meters from the fenced entrance. But inside the grounds were ghosts of dead wolves. They were roaming about, doing nothing. Some were lying close to their graves. I stood there motionless, shocked at the fact that I could see the ghosts of dead wolves. I was quite scared; I didn't know what to do. One of them suddenly noticed me and paused to observe me. And one by one they all turned to me. The only thing separating us was the fence.

Ghosts and Shadows The pack house felt hollow despite being filled with refugees from the Summer Gathering attack. Families who had lost their homes in the assault, wounded pack members requiring extended care, and children who couldn't stop crying whenever loud sounds reminded them of explosions and gunfire. Lisa moved through the corridors with Luna Rose, trying to provide comfort where she could while struggling with her own lingering trauma from the battle.

I was gone, and it wasn't as though they could speak ill of me now, not while my body was being buried in the ground. Even my mother-in-law came. She was already a frail, tiny woman, but seeing her there made her appear decades older. Grayson knelt before my gravestone, convinced he was performing some act of atonement. But to me, his presence was nothing more than repulsive. After the funeral, he returned to the small apartment. Alice, starved for three days, lay there, barely clinging to life. The moment she saw Grayson, fear overtook her—a fear she couldn't hide.

Chapter 57: Resilience and Confessions. The night air smelled of smoke and destruction. The fire raged, licking at the sky as the old warehouse collapsed in on itself. Evelyn Hawthorne stood a safe distance away, her face illuminated by the flickering flames, eyes cold and calculating.