Ghostface Backstory Novels & Stories

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?”

" 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.

Things had to be really bad if Ghost was willing to meet more people face to face. "Marco's friend. Hi." Fiona blinked at Ghost, probably trying to figure out where she'd seen him before. She hadn't, but that was the point of Ghost's appearance. He could be anyone. Literally anyone with a face like that. "Can we all talk?" Ghost hefted a laptop bag higher up on his shoulder. "Inside?" "Of-I mean, Marco?" Fiona glanced from Ghost to him. Probably because he was about to crack a tooth grinding them so hard.

"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."

I lied about my age and ended up in a secret online relationship with one of the biggest names in esports. He was nothing like his public persona. In public, he was cold and aloof. Online, though, he flirted with me nonstop. When he got worked up, he even said he'd be my good boy. Then my nineteenth birthday came and went, and my wolf still hadn't awakened. Most werewolves shifted for the first time at sixteen. Even late bloomers awakened by eighteen. I couldn’t let Adrian find out I was defective, with no wolf at all. So I broke up with him and blocked him everywhere. Months later, while staying with my best friend Chloe, I heard her older brother speak outside the bedroom. I had heard that

she yelled, and I rolled my eyes. "Of course he is. Everyone on the hill says he's in charge of drug production and Blake's right-hand man. "They are friends." She defended him. " Ghost belongs to a traditional family It is San Diego, his mother is a judge and his father is a successful lawyer. I opened and closed my mouth in boredom. "You don't answer my question." She played the hands up as if he didn't believe my words.

But none of her friends or colleagues was so childish they'd send a masked delivery guy dressed like a hitman just to scare her—unless… The thought was too unsettling, so she firmly pushed it to the back of her mind, licking her suddenly dry lips as she forced the words out of her parched throat, "who are you?" "My friend sent me," Ghostface replied, offering no other details. Camille didn't know what was more disturbing—the dead look in his glassy eyes or the fact that she couldn't see his lips move beneath the freaky mask whenever he spoke.

I noticed his eyes lingering on me just a bit longer when we were teenagers, and I was hyper-aware of every stolen glance afterward. He was shifting on his feet, and I sighed, stopping the harassment, “Do we at the very least know the true identity of the rogues from last night?” Finn breathed a sigh of relief, “That, I have an answer for,” he walked over to his desk, snatching up a paper from the surface, “Archie Green and Jack Carson. They have no known association with any of the surrounding packs, and as far as I can tell, they’re ghosts.” “Shit,” I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. “Fucking untraceable.”