Ghost Wars Novel Novels & Stories

Using his whips he hurled the pieces into the others still carrying guns, wiping them out entirely. A chill skated over me as Caius singlehandedly decimated the men that had taken me. Ghost’s chest rumbled as he chuckled darkly. His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, and I could feel from the tilt to his lips that he was grinning. “That is the man you chose to steal from.” I tried and failed not to shudder. Finally, in one fell swoop the numerous bodies of burn scar fell to the ground, reeking of cooked meat. I forced my gaze away, not wanting to see his severed limbs roll into the dirt. Silence rang out, the kind that had my blood roaring in my ears.

He had to assess the situation there before he could decide when they were going to move. According to the general of the Northern army, more than fourty percent of their men were wounded or freezing to death. Xavier wondered why Ice Wolves would be complaining of extreme weather conditions but he didn’t say a word. He had promised that he would not take any injured men to the war front but he was running out of time. Someone was out there killing Alphas and the earlier he got out to find out who it was, the better for all of them. It could be Obada or even Calistè for all he knew but what if it wasn’t any of them. That could mean either of two things - that there was someone who hated Ghost

My bad habit was curling my toes when I was anxious. Why? I didn't move again. I stayed still. Maybe they would go away. I was done. There was no way now. "She looks dead though." It was another soldier. "Who could survive after falling from that height?" I wanted to give a thumbs up to that soldier. "What if it's an undead?" The first soldier asked with a trembling voice. "The undead city isn't far from here." Undead city? There was no such mention in the novel. Then again, the novel focussed too much on the female lead's love life.

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

“Then believe this too — I’m not running from this war anymore. I’m not your weakness, Zach. I’m your equal.” My hand found her jaw, thumb brushing along her cheekbone. “You’ve always been more than equal.” She smiled — not the soft kind. The dangerous one. The kind that said she’d walk into fire and expect me to follow. And I would. ⸻ Later that night, I stood alone in the courtyard, the air sharp with the scent of rain and gun oil. The soldiers had gone quiet, the world still except for the faint hum of the generators. Gia appeared beside me, her hands tucked into her coat pockets. “You know they’ll come harder now,” she said. “The Ghost won’t stop until they break one of you.”

No sound of traffic, no distant hum of technology, nothing but a stillness that made her feel like she was walking through a forgotten graveyard. She looked around, her heart beating faster as the realization sank in: this was **Nyxterra**. The place she had only heard whispered rumors about, a world where lost memories supposedly went to die. It was said that those who wandered too far into the shadows of Nyxterra rarely came back. The city itself was a labyrinth of half-formed structures, their outlines blurred as though they were fading in and out of existence, forgotten by time and memory.

The air in the Grayson Manor was heavy with the scent of lilies and long-buried grief, while across the city, the sterile stench of antiseptic and gunpowder took hold. The war between the parents had officially entered its "Scorched Earth" phase, and Chloe Bishop was no longer the only one fighting for her life.

The world said we won, but victory looked like a joke. The courtyard was just… bodies. Some folks had tossed cloaks over them, but most were lying there, eyes open, faces pale. The wolves... my people moved around, quiet, nursing wounds, whispering old names into the wind. Names that would fade before the next moon. I made my way through the debris, trying to avoid the blood and broken swords, breathing slowly and steadily, not wanting any more of this place inside me. Ghosts everywhere. I couldn't turn my head without seeing them. Kids clutching at nothing, limbless soldiers, packs split and silent. The kind of heartbreak that clings.

Everyone held their weapons close, ready to put our lives on the line. Explosions and gunshots kept coming from above, and the sound of the walls collapsing was deafening. The ground seemed to tremble under the force. On the fourth day, the noise abruptly stopped. We gathered nervously and stared at the door to the underground shelter. It slowly opened to reveal an exhausted soldier. "The wave of zombies has been dealt with. You can all come out now." Everyone cheered, and we slowly filed out of the shelter. The air outside smelled of gunpowder.

Suddenly, there was an uproar, and guns started firing at them. Ghost was taken by surprise. There were at least twenty men, with big guns slung over their shoulders, firing recklessly at them. Ghost’s men fired back, but they were severely outnumbered. They fired and slowly backed away. Passers-by were thrown into a frenzy. The police arrived at the scene, and it turned into a full-scale gun war. He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him, trying to avoid the flying bullets.