Ghosts Age Rating Novels & Stories

This feels lighter, automatic—like stepping where the ground has already been mapped. They call me Ghost. It simplifies things. Ghosts don’t leave witnesses. Or questions. Or pieces of themselves behind. Conversation thins as I pass. People shift their feet. I registered the looks without meeting them. Curiosity from the younger ones. Calculation from the handlers. And something closer to superstition from everyone else. I am twenty-two years old. I’ve been killing since I was fourteen. The numbers don’t settle into pride or shame. They sit like inventory. A medic steps aside as I pass. His eyes drop to the insignia stitched inside my collar—black thread on gray. Ghost-class comes without ra

I ask . " What you mean ? " She looked confused . She seemed to be around 5 or 6 years old , maybe she doesn't know what ghosts are or even what's happening to her . I don't know how to phrase it so that I don't upset her . " What she means is .. Is your mom a ghost too ? " Michael casually spills out and I glare at him . He should have given me a minute to think ! That's not the way to speak to a young child - er.. ghost child .

Frankie (winking): “Only the classy ones.” The temperature drops twenty degrees. Black-glass cracks spiderweb across the far wall. A Severed Circle Revenant steps through, eight feet tall, seven slashes glowing like molten hate. Frankie’s cigar drops ash that never hits the ground. Frankie (voice suddenly ice): “They weren’t supposed to wake up for another century. Looks like playtime’s over.” Every ghost racks the slide on weapons that shouldn’t exist anymore. Frankie (to me): “Listen close, Morau kid.

One by one, the results populated the screen. Three profiles. Only three. Ghost blinked. “That’s… weird. I expected more.” Finn frowned. “Me too.” Cedric leaned in. “Who do we have?” Ghost pointed to the first profile. “Hector Marquez Jr. Age thirteen.” Cormac snorted. “Not him.” Ghost clicked the second. “Hector Marquez III. Age three.” Cedric rolled his eyes. “Definitely not him.” Ghost opened the third file.

Dangerous. She was still thinking about it when the message arrived at 9:47 PM. Ghost: Private session. One hour. I want to see you in something new. Aria’s stomach flipped. She sat on the edge of her bed, heart already beating faster. Aria: What do you want me to wear? Ghost: Crimson lace teddy. Sheer. The one with the deep V in front and open back. No bra. No panties underneath. Hair down. Lights low. Be ready in fifteen minutes.

Zoire said. Erimense took a deep breath,he was feeling uneasy with the story he just heard. "Mother,are you saying that the ages of darkness will come again?". He asked. Zoire nods her head. "Yes Erimense,but nobody knows how close it is already". She said,as she walked out of the sanctuary. Erimense took a step closer,to touch the paintings on the wall.Fear shuddered down his spine.Somehow,the more he looked at the picture,the more fear gripped his bones.

I said, my voice dangerously soft. Ghost shook his head snappily. " I mean I don’t want any part of this. Not for money, not for favors, not for anything." " You already know too much," Matteo said coldly, stepping near. Ghost flinched and turned white like he had lost all his blood in an accident. " Look, look," he said, hands up. " I’ll wipe everything. I’ll pretend I never saw this.Just — just let me go. Pay me off. I’ll vanish." He stopped and looked from one face to the next. “I don't charge much, you know me. 7k in dollars or another currency, I'll prefer Euros, no, Dollars would do.”

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re looking at her like that.” The air between them went razor-thin. For a heartbeat, Rhett thought Ghost might swing. Instead, the older man just shook his head. “You think I’ve got eyes on that girl?” Ghost’s voice was steady, low, but laced with something darker. “No, boy. What I see when I look at her is me. Forty years ago.” Rhett froze, breath caught in his chest. ________________ Ghost lowered himself into the chair Rhett had left empty, his movements deliberate. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, his gaze locked on the fire across the room.

Those eyes lifted and locked on mime and the glass instantly stopped moving. “The dead has no business with the living, Riven Cole,” he said, voice low enough that only I heard the tremor under it. “We don't tend to corpses here.” I crossed the distance, my boots leaving wet prints on sawdust, then I placed my hands on the counter and said in a low voice, “Then pour one for a ghost.” The room seemed to respond to my words like they heard me, a hush spreading round. I heard a chair scraping the ground and seconds later, someone in the back muttered “traitor”.

Ace's Pov Elena and Ghost arrived at noon. The building felt different the moment they walked in. Not because Ghost did anything visible to change it. Because the specific awareness that someone in the room understood every system running inside the walls produced a kind of alertness that had no other cause. Ghost was younger than I expected. Early twenties. The kind of face that gave away nothing. It had been designed to give away nothing for a long time. They said nothing when introduced. I understood immediately that saying nothing was not rudeness. It was standard operating practice.