Ghostface Backstory Novels & Stories

They were all told that Jason had been put in custody as a suspect. " Next," the hoarse voice rose from behind the painted wall. Rosaleen trudged towards the door and stepped into the office. " What's your name?" the man questioned, his husky voice getting to the deepest of her soul. His big arms stood out like they were ready to attack and his stern face gave away hostility, coldness. " Rosaleen Williams," she found her voice, finally defeating and suppressing the bubbles that tried to interfer with her clear, open answer.

That she’d dated me for two years and then, within weeks of the breakup, had appeared on the arm of my billionaire CEO. I framed it as an observation. It sounded, even as I was saying it, like something else. Marcus had nodded and refilled his glass and changed the subject and I’d gone home and slept reasonably well and woken up Monday morning and told myself it was just conversation. By Wednesday the shape of the story had reached Daniel.

Back then Leon dated Melina, the three were best of friends but he was betrayed by them when he left the country to go study overseas, the two got married without his knowledge, they had a messy fight and cut off communication, they had stayed apart for 15 years. it was a moment of awkwardness, Leon stood up and greeted them, he asked his aides to go out and give them discretion, Leon, stood up and straightened his signed leather jacket, he cleared his thought and stretched his hand to greet them. Melina was dazzled by his muscles, he had changed a lot, back the he was the plainest of them all, he wore shaggy un ironed clothes, he never cared about his looks, but now he wore a signed leather

he informed me, accepting the tea I offered with a grateful nod. "Looking for me?" I laughed softly, the sound hollow and empty. I stirred my own tea, watching the leaves swirl. "I'm already dead. What does he want with a ghost?" The Beta—Kane—shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "He refuses to accept your death. He's been to your old clinic at least a dozen times, interrogating your former staff. He's tried to contact all your former friends and colleagues." A flicker of unease passed through me. "Has he found anything?"

Jayce's hands tightened slightly on the wheel, a motion small enough that neither of his brothers noticed it. "Ghost," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Remind me again what's special about him." Both boys turned to look at him with near-identical expressions of disbelief, the specific outrage of teenagers encountering an adult's catastrophic ignorance of something obviously important. "Jayce," Jayden said, like the name itself was an accusation. "Ghost is the best driver the circuit has ever had. Like, ever. He went four years undefeated and then just — vanished. Nobody knew why. Some people say he got caught by the cops and did time somewhere quiet, some people say he made eno

and "calling the police." Before long, the police arrived. The lead officer frowned and asked, "Young man, this money is all fake. Where did you get it?" I stared at him in disbelief, frantically pulling the contract out of my pocket and shoving it toward him. "I didn't know! I earned it! I signed up for a clinical trial!" I shouted in a panic, "This has nothing to do with me!" He scanned the document, his frown deepening with every line. "You've been conned. This company is a front for a criminal syndicate. Did they draw your blood?"

She looked like nothing so much as a clumsy fraud now, scrambling for an explanation, but every excuse she reached for had a hole in it. Marcus stared at Francesca like he was looking at death itself. When he thought no one was watching, he started backing away, one careful step at a time. Francesca caught him instantly. "Marcus? Where do you think you're going? I'm back. Aren't you happy to see me?" She flashed him a chilling grin, all teeth. With everyone watching in confusion, she went on, "That shell finding me wasn't a coincidence back then. It was deliberate. Someone planted a tracker on my belongings and passed my location to the enemy.

The rage inside me snapped. Smack! My hand struck Richard across the face. "Chloe was your daughter. One baseless accusation, and you decide she's that kind of kid? I'm so disappointed in you." Richard stood there, stunned. For once, he had nothing to say. I looked at all three of them. "I'm not letting this go. All of you are going to pay." This time, Grace actually looked scared. She shrank closer to Richard and pulled David behind her. After the funeral, I hired the best private investigator in Almeda City.

The office felt too small with all of us inside, Ciara’s brothers, Salvatore, Wolf leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Ciara stood beside me, her presence grounding even with the tension still humming between us from the hallway. The door opened, and Wolf stepped in, guiding Ghost forward like he was herding a distracted kid. Ghost had three phones in his hands, two cords hanging from his pocket, and a look on his face that said he hadn’t slept in… ever.

They were met by a line of silent, masked operatives wearing the insignia of the Global Circle. At the center of the line stood a man Ava didn't recognize—tall, silver-haired, with a scar that ran from his ear to his collarbone. He looked at Caleb not as a rival, but as a subordinate. "It’s been five years, Ghost," the man said, his voice like grinding stones. "We thought the fire in 2016 had finally retired you. But it seems the Miller money made you soft." Ava felt the blood drain from her face. Ghost. The name Caleb had used to threaten her—it wasn't a metaphor. It was his callsign.