Ghost Wars Novel Novels & Stories

Rick. A name I hadn’t spoken aloud in weeks suddenly burned through my mind like poison. And then I moved. I didn’t order a retreat. I didn’t strategize. I abandoned the outer wall. Behind me, warriors shouted. Ahead of me, zombies poured through broken gates like a flood of dead things that refused to understand they were already gone. But I didn’t care anymore. Because something far worse than an invasion was happening behind us. Aurora’s POV

I didn’t even have time to wonder whether this would be the day I died. Reloading, chambering rounds, and firing had already become pure muscle memory. The second a zombie crawled onto the wall, I shot it down. Even as the recoil battered my arms numb with pain, I didn’t dare stop for even a second. Then suddenly, something massive swept overhead. A violent gust exploded across the wall, nearly throwing everyone off balance. The guards grabbed desperately onto the railings to avoid being blown off entirely. The zombies weren’t nearly as lucky. Not only were the ones on the walls blown backward, even the towering pile of bodies beneath them began swaying violently, on the verge of collapse.

Then, the world exploded. Girard tackled Marcel with the force of a landslide. The impact was so violent it sent a shockwave through the floor, cracking the tiles and sending me flying into a pile of discarded lab equipment. I hit the ground hard, the air returning to my lungs in a jagged, painful gasp. I didn’t have time to recover. Two Ghost Wolves, their bodies half-formed and weeping violet fluid, crawled toward me, their jaws unhinging in anticipation. “Stay back!” I screamed, reaching for my Glock.

[The Velocity of Grace] The sky was no longer a canvas for digital ghosts; it was a theater of war. The black gunships descended like predatory insects, their rotors churning the salt air into a violent Gale. The searchlights were blinding, clinical white eyes that stripped away the shadows where we had tried to hide our humanity. Jinyan’s question hung between us, sharper than the whistle of the incoming missile: “Do you trust me enough to die?”

Roman There was a particular kind of stillness before a storm—the kind I’d learned to recognize years ago. The city outside our safe house window buzzed with everyday life, oblivious to the silent war blooming in its cracks. And here we were, three ghosts of a buried past trying to resurrect just enough firepower to survive what was coming.

I said before ending the call without giving her a chance to speak. Then, I pulled up her contact to blacklist her number. When I checked WhatsApp, I found that she'd sent me dozens of messages. The first ones in the morning were questions about the wedding. When she later found out I was gone, she kept asking where I was. Just today alone, she sent me more texts than she had in the past month. After skimming through them, I blacklisted her number. Then, I set my phone aside and went back to sleep.

Gone as quickly as it came, leaving only a phantom ache and a deeper terror. The pack’s thrumming surged again, a collective growl resonating through the stone. Somewhere, a decision was being made. A line drawn. And she, Novah, the ghost with no past, sat at the epicentre, holding a cold bowl of broth, caught between the Alpha who claimed her and the crushing, invisible weight of the hundreds of wolves whose fate now inexplicably intertwined with her own forgotten tragedy. The silence after Ashton’s departure was deafening, filled only by the hungry, restless heartbeat of the pack. Waiting.

“Yes, such a lovely gift I’m blessed with. It is very honorable to become a wraith of mine. Right as the host dies I collect their meager little souls and give them a new purpose.” “How can they join the stars without their soul?” I utter completely flabbergasted. His smile broadened, “They don't. If my wraith dies then the spirit is released and they join said stars.” He waved his hand as if waving the thought away. “My Love how are you faring?” I swallowed unable to dismiss the idea of those poor spirits locked away from the afterlife. “I… I’m well. The view is lovely here.” I changed topics quickly.

Hell would have to freeze over first. But she shook her head no. “Bad lady wanna huwt mama.” Aw, it's kinda sweet that she's worried about me and hard to take her seriously because she still replaces her r’s with w’s. And I just realised that I saw my baby’s wolf for the first time. Not really but close enough. “She can't hurt me.” She can try, but she’ll regret it. Third-person POV When Matako put her hand on Takumi's, Twilight let out a warning growl. Trey was the only one who heard it and when he glanced at her, his heart almost stopped.

Her mouth and throat were hot and dry from nervous anticipation. Past conversations with her aunt about zombies surfaced in her mind. Panic threatened to consume all reason as the movement grew closer. She did her best to focus on what she’d learned from those conversations. Her aunt had encountered a few mutants in the early years of the apocalypse. She said little about it, but Kendra could tell that whatever her aunt was forced to do had an unpleasant impact on her aunt’s soul.