Ghosted Series Novels & Stories

I took a shower, wrapped a towel around myself and by the time I came back out, I had five messages three from Alessandro and two from Ghost. Ignoring Alessandro's messages, I clicked on Ghost's. ╭───────────────╮ Me: Got plans tonight? ╰───────────────╯ ╭───────────────╮ Ghost: Oh, she remembers me. ╰───────────────╯ ╭───────────────╮ Ghost: Even if I was busy, you really think I'd turn you down, Red? ╰───────────────╯

I hesitated for a moment, biting my lip before sending my last message, already knowing exactly how this was going to play out. ❀° ┄─────────────╮ Me: We’ll see. But just know—I’m not as easy to tame as you think. ╰─────────────┄ °❀ My phone buzzed almost instantly. ☠︎︎° ┄─────────────╮ Ghost: Oh, Red. That’s what makes it fun. ╰─────────────┄ °☠︎︎ The door swung open, and Alessandro strode in like he owned the place—because, well, he did. I quickly locked my phone and slid it into my pocket, the buzz from my conversation with Ghost still lingering in the back of my mind.

If she is not here, where the fuck is she? “Thank you,” I say, walking away and entering my car. I grip the steering wheel and then slam my hands against it as my phone rings. Retrieving it from the inside pocket of my jacket, I answered without looking. “I heard you had a tough night,” I hear Ghost say on the other side of the line. The man knows me better than anyone and knows I am ready to punch someone’s brains out. “I’ve got a space to be filled tomorrow night. Are you interested,” he says.

But when he stepped inside, the sight before him nearly made him freeze. Ghost sat in a plush leather chair, his movements slow, deliberate. He swirled a glass of deep red wine in his hand, the candlelight reflecting off the crystal. His expression was unreadable, a calm storm behind those cold, calculating eyes. He took a measured sip before looking up at Specter, who was still catching his breath. "Did you hear about the current news?" Specter asked, his voice edged with restrained urgency. Ghost tilted his head slightly, setting his glass down with an almost lazy motion. "Yes," he said simply, his tone void of any emotion.

Ghost offered a slight nod, her face unreadable, as Damon turned and began to walk away. Betty lingered behind for a moment, her eyes following his retreating figure. As Damon disappeared around the corner, Ghost remained for a moment, lost in thought. The memory of past battles and hard-won victories played in her mind like distant echoes. Even now, as he prepared to risk everything to revive Anna, Damon’s iron will and predatory grace reminded her why she had chosen this life. Ghost pulled out her phone just as the helicopter roared overhead. With a determined glance at the sky, she quickly dialed a number. The call connected, and a gruff male voice answered, "Ghost."

“Don’t bother yourself anymore. I don’t want anyone suspecting me. She already knows I don’t like her, and I bet she’s pointing fingers at me as we speak.” “If you insist. Your wish is my command. Whatever you say, I am cool with it. Should you be ready to strike into action, I am just one call away,” Ghost said as he pledged his allegiance to me. I terminated the call to enable me to focus on my thoughts. As I sat on my bed trying to figure out a way out of my mess, my phone rang. It was a call from Ghost. I didn’t answer the phone, but I was excited that Ghost had called to break the good news to me. I was already preparing to purchase champagne to celebrate the death of Olivia.

Before he could react, his phone rang urgently. "Hello?" A cold voice answered, "Mr. Hart, we received a report. We found a woman's corpse at one of your rental properties."

Normally, the sound of men moving, talking, working would be a constant hum in the background, but now it’s just stillness. Ghost doesn’t say anything as we get into the car, but I can tell he’s watching me. I don’t ask what’s on his mind. I don’t want to know. The drive is quiet at first, the low rumble of the engine the only sound between us. Eventually, Ghost speaks. “You’re waiting for something to go wrong.” It’s not a question. I stare out the window. “Everything’s too calm. It doesn’t feel right.” Ghost nods slightly. “You were trained to expect betrayal. That shit doesn’t go away overnight.”

Ghost’s fingers flew across the keyboard, screens reflecting off his glasses in rapid flashes of blue and white. Every camera feed in the city was up. Every traffic cam. Every toll booth. Every intersection. And none of it was enough. “She’s in a black sedan,” Ghost muttered. “Tinted windows. No plates. They knew what they were doing.” I paced behind him, chest tight, hands shaking. I couldn’t sit. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.