Ghostface Backstory Novels & Stories

I could just tell he would be a coward, for him to stay in hiding just to fire a bullet. A few minutes later, two of the men dragged someone out from behind a false wall panel. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, skin slick with sweat, eyes darting everywhere but at me. Ghost stepped forward, a predator closing in on prey. “Thought you could hide, huh?” Ghost’s voice was a growl. He didn’t wait for an answer before his fist connected with the man’s jaw, the sound of impact echoing in the room. The guy stumbled, groaning, blood already gathering at the corner of his mouth.

“I am here to take your life.” James’s eyes widened. Every cell in his body went into shock as the cold eyes of the killer met his. “Who are you?” “You don’t need to know. A dead person like you.” “Who the heck are you?” “They call me Ghost,” the figure smiled. “And you’re about to find out why.” “Stop!” James ran, his mother’s face flashing through his mind – he couldn’t leave her to face another loss. “Running only makes it worse,” Ghost called out, footsteps methodically searching the room. “Accept your fate, and I’ll make it quick.”

Nick said. “Me, too,” Williamson said. “Wonder why he wasn’t?” “He told me that he had a hard time finding someone he could trust to make him a fake I.D. and passport,” Nick answered. “Wait. Ghost talked to you?” Williamson asked with amazement. “Yeah. When we finally got Ghost subdued, I started asking him questions. He answered me, no problem.” “What did he tell you?”

The only other people who knew who he was, were Gunn and the triplets. "I'm Aaron Muron, many of you may know me as Ghost. I'm the godfather of the mafia. The founder of Muron Springs." The room broke out in shocked gasps and whispers. Fear settled on their faces as they watched him, wondering what his next move would be. As the story goes, whoever saw Ghost, didn't live to tell the tale. "I want to enter a partnership with you all. This could be the start of something beautiful." He said, biting into his bottom lip.

" Two guards in black immediately moved in, ignoring Nellie's struggle as they dragged her toward the exit. Around them, guests lifted their phones, snapping pictures and laughing under their breath. Voices overlapped, mocking how pathetic the Scott siblings were, laughing that people like them might as well be dead. What they didn't know was that I was already dead. And Nellie was suffering from the same illness I had. She didn't have much time left either.

I take a deep breath and open the door, and step out into the hallway. I walk through and make my way to the dining hall. I pass pictures of the girls, both past and present. I stop looking at one in particular. The legend that was Ghost. Alessa Valentino. She is standing next to my grandma and a woman with baby pink curly hair, Candy. My grandma was younger back then. Ghost was a legend. She was found days after her parents were killed by the Bratva. Her aunty was the OG founder of the Mother’s Revenge, but as usual, not everything was as it seemed.

I put my head back up to look at her and shrug my shoulders and chuckle. “Ghost knocked her up twenty some years ago, she cowardly walked away from the life she once lived and started a new one as if the old one never occurred, me included.” I say with sorrow laced in my tone. “Ghost? Holy shit.” She says just as surprised as I was only an hour ago. “Yeah…” I say quietly. “And then what happened?” She asks intently. “And then I told her how shitty of a person she is and even after all that she had the balls to try to make me a deal.” I say laughing in disbelief still.

And finally, their new plan. "I don't like this," Ghost said. "Yeah, me neither." "No, I mean, I don't like her story. It's too...neat." "Neat? What the hell is neat about this?" "We just happen to pick the bitch with the most baggage as our mark?" "You said so yourself that before a few years ago she simply didn't exist." "Yeah, but there's a lot of reasons for why that might be. You still got that USB on you?" "Yeah..."

"That is impossible—" "Project Blackstone made many impossible things possible. This face is one of them." X moved closer. Samuel was screaming, trying to crawl away despite his medical equipment. "Your uncle knows. He watched the procedure. Watched me volunteer to have my identity surgically removed. To become the perfect ghost." "Who were you before?" I demanded, backing toward the door. "What was your real face?" "Irrelevant. That person is dead. Has been dead for forty years. I am what survived. What evolved. What became necessary to stop people like Marcus from destroying everything with their shortsighted violence."