Novelas y relatos de Ghostface

I’ve seen him in the training grounds but he’s damn good at what he does so he never needed any one-to-one training. "Thanks, Ghost.” Gideon mutters, I don’t mean to laugh but that's exactly what happens. Ghost has to be one of the whitest men I’ve ever seen; his hair is practically white and his eyes have a sort of redness to them that can’t be natural so I can see why his momma called him Ghost but it's still a weird name. “It's a funnier name if you know that my momma has skin like sweet caramel sauce and my pops was blacker than the fuckin’ night sky.” Ghost smirks at me, he’s not offended by my laughing, which means he can take a joke.

AIDEN "Have you found anything?" I ask the Ghost, holding a tumbler of whiskey in one hand as I gaze out at the star-studded sky from the balcony. "Nothing suspicious yet," the Ghost replies, his deep voice resonating through my earpiece. The richness of his tone seems almost artificial, which isn't surprising given the person's efforts to conceal their identity. As someone known only by their alias, their true nature remains a mystery. For all I know, a woman could be orchestrating operations from behind the scenes, utilizing advanced voice alteration technology to disguise her voice. I shrug, indifferent to the Ghost's gender, as long as they deliver results.

We exchanged glances for a second, but I was quick to avert my gaze and I didn't even know why. They've got tattoos on their faces and arms down to their shoulders. It was in the middle of the road, the sides surrounded by a lake. The one with a bird tattoo stepped forward, his smirk wider than the rest. “Look who we have here. It's Ghost” he laughed. “The soulless dead man who is here to haunt us today. Oh, I'm getting scared” another said. They laughed, and I let them hold their peace before they ended up in misery.

Snow started falling—hard and fast. I stood there on the curb, freezing, shaking. Three hours in, my phone died. Sonia never came. Before the screen went black, one last thing flashed—Pierre's post. A selfie. Him and Sonia in front of some car, her face turned halfway. Caption: [Under the same snow, our hair turns white. Close enough to growing old together, right?] In the dead glass, my reflection stared back—smiling. Not bitter. Just done. The hundredth promise, traded for a concert and a boy toy.

“We are from the Drug Enforcement Agency, and we need you to accompany us to our office for questioning.” “Sure.” The man said as he entered the passenger’s seat of the vehicle, as the trio made for the DEA’s office. ! ! ! ! ! Kimberly wheeled her traveling bag into the hotel’s lounge, and made for the receptionist, who was standing behind the counter. She wore a blonde wig, sunglasses and a scarf around her neck which disguised her perfectly. Her new look was like that of a trophy wife. “Welcome to cherry’s hotels and suite. How may I help you?”

Alice had always been a thorn between us—sharp, immovable, impossible to ignore or remove. I looked at Grayson now and wondered: if he knew I was dead, would he feel relieved that he was finally free of me? Grayson's phone rang. He answered it, not bothering to put it on speaker. I drifted closer, curious. Could it be someone calling to report my death? I studied his face intently, waiting to see his reaction when he learned I was gone. But when I glanced at the screen, I froze. The caller ID displayed my name. The voice that came through the line was unmistakably mine.

She called out, her voice echoing eerily in the vast emptiness. "Ghost?" she whispered, her voice barely a sound. A chuckle, low and sardonic, filled the darkness. Then, a single figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and shrouded in darkness, its face hidden beneath a hood, this was Ghost.

Like a Hollywood actor but with the muscles of a guy that lives in the gym. “That one is Ghost,” Jonas says, and I frown, repeating the name. Jonas laughs, and Ghost shakes his head, only looking at me through the rearview mirror for a split second. “Hi darling, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says, winking and looking at me again for a split second.

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.

He then spoke, pointing at Ghost, who by the way was still bouncing around in the flowers. Oh crap, I totally forgot about him! I mentally slapped myself, then turned to the side, “Oh my god, Ghost, get back here!” I shouted at the crazed husky. “Ghost?” The guy instantly asked confused. “Yeah, she’s a total Game of Thrones fan,” Kara explained giggling. “Oh...” He mumbled, while I was still looking at Ghost, who was heading towards me, but suddenly stopped in his tracks and started howling like a crazed wolf.