Ghost X Quiet Novels & Stories

Ash said, but for a fraction of a second, his grey eyes flickered, a momentary glitch in the mechanical coldness of his soul. "Make it a priority, you heartless bastard," Silas breathed, his head finally sagging forward. "She’s still in there... screaming for you." POV: Rhea Mooncrest (Heir-Possessed) "He is coming, Mother. The ghost is walking toward the sun."

But because some questions never get answers, and I had stopped waiting for them. At last, on a quiet evening, my spirit dissolved completely.

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to

(A DUEL IN THE MIST OF INSANITY) SILENCE is eminent, that even the wind is somehow frightened in some way to blow its presence. The night is too quiet and not a single insect an be seen or to be heard. Everyone seems hiding for something, with everything is like in a mid of chaos. In that small garden in the residence of the Gomez, footsteps suddenly echo. It’s sound that is menacing and screaming a dark warning that no one even the smallest living thing will dare to see, face and make a sound in front of it.

And every ghost Hot Springs ever buried standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the living. I raise my right hand. The first Vinča symbol still hasn’t appeared on my skin, but tonight I don’t need it. Tonight I have something better. I have people. Celeste (voice calm, carrying across the ridge): “You want my face?” I smile, fangs out, bloodstone blazing like a second moon. Celeste: “Come take it.” The Hollow Choir charges. The valley answers. Coyotes in full war-form tear into the front line. Ghost tommy guns sing in perfect 1920s harmony.

he murmurs, “if you ever get tired of the silent brooding type, there are more fun options out there.” “Is that so?” I reply, my voice light. “Absolutely.” Before I can throw a retort back at him, someone slides into the space between us with the kind of smooth, quiet force that only comes from someone used to being obeyed. Ghost doesn’t say anything at first. He just plants himself squarely in front of Hectic, shoulders loose but energy sharp. Hectic blinks. “Well, hello—” “I’d move back a bit if I were you,” Ghost says, his voice low, steady, and far too calm to be casual.

Jennifer felt defeated, her sighs coming out weak and breathless. When she looked up, our eyes met from across the second floor. She quickly looked away and scurried out of sight. I put my wine glass down and headed downstairs. In the shadows, Jennifer was standing alone, taking a deep, weary breath. "What are you doing here?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. Jennifer stood there, stiff as a board. "Nelson..." Seeing me again, her usual pride and self-importance had all but vanished, replaced by a look of careful vigilance.

I watched my nine year-old daughter grieve a mother who was still breathing, and I drowned in the silence I was forced to keep. My knees buckled. I slid down the stone wall until I sat on the cold floor, the Ghost-Phone pressed to my chest as though I could somehow transmit my heartbeat through the screen. Mia’s quiet weeping filled the dark room like smoke. “Weakness is a luxury we burned at the gates of Blackwood, Valencia.” The voice sliced through the shadows, low, precise, arctic. I didn’t need to look up to know who stood in the doorway. Silas.

Every creak in the house sounded like a warning. She would do anything to protect him. Even if that meant destroying what was left of her own peace. Chapter Fourteen: The Quiet After the Cake The house was still. Balloons sagged slightly in the corners, wrapping paper littered the couch and Lucas had finally fallen asleep while clutching the truck he’d named “Monster Max.” Lissa sat on the porch steps with a blanket around her shoulders, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She heard the screen door open behind her. Footsteps. Then Colt sat down beside her, a careful space between them.

"You alright, man?" Ryan doesn't answer. He picks up his phone and calls Selena. She answers on the second ring, voice loose and comfortable. "Ryan" "Turn on the news." Silence. "What" "Turn it on." His voice is flat. Something is happening in his chest. Something cold and mechanical and spreading. "Right now, Selena. Turn it on." More silence. Then he hears it. The faint sound of a television. Then her sharp intake of breath. "That's not possible." Her voice has changed completely. "That's not she was in the road, the truck"