Phantom Black Car Novels & Stories

Stupid network service! I started the ignition and geared the car into acceleration and began driving. It was a Black Phantom Rolls Royce — a very expensive and sophisticated vehicle and I have to admit I liked the way it felt when I drive it; I liked the feel of my feet pressing down on the gas peddle unhitched, I like the feel of smoothly maneuvering of the steering wheel and the real leather seats made my rear feel comfortable, not to mention the soft noise the tyres made plying the road. What I did not like, or rather, who I didn’t like, was Gyro. I hated her haughtiness and pride, I hated the fact that she was sometimes uptight and rude, I hated the fact that she was also too friendly s

The breath-taking model of a deluxe masterpiece of car, painted in Belladonna Purple, reflecting every ray of light hitting its immaculate surface, creating natural sparkles, with one command of its driver, parked itself in front of the building. The force of so-called guards, looking more like bodybuilders, covered in black suits and loaded with hearing amplifiers and best fighting skills, shielding the entry, within point seconds drifted from the state of attention to the state of alert. One of those all-in-black dressed massive figures held the back door of that car, for a very obvious reason of opening it.

The only thing she could feel was pain and the willingness to do anything to get out of this situation. Her father’s illness fueled her wrath more and made her think more irrationally. At this point, she was willing to do anything. Legal or illegal. “So how do we find a buyer for your car?” Amelia asked eagerly. “I have a friend who buys used luxury cars and resells them. His name is Brandon. He should be our plug.” They called him and negotiated on a price for the Black Rols royce phantom. Brandon offered 850,000 dollars for the car. It was not the best price they could have gotten, but since they were in a rush, they had to take it.

It was a black BMW, gorgeous and oozing power, an ‘M’ badge with three colored stripes emblazoned on its trunk. The car’s appearance grabbed attention and a few groups of students spoke about it excitedly in hushed tones as it passed. The windows were dark but Georgia could already sense who the driver was. As Hayden stepped out, she felt herself stiffen with anxious nerves at the sight of him. His hair was neatly spread out on his head, dark clumps of it falling over his forehead and the sides of his cheeks, blocking some of his face in a sexy way. He seemed like an extension of the car, dressed all in black with skinny jeans and a muscle shirt.

Letting her hair down in loose waves, she felt almost unrecognizable. At exactly 7 PM, a low, rumbling engine caught her attention. Her heart leaped as she moved to the window and peeked outside. Damien had arrived in a sleek, black Maserati Ghibli. The headlights cut through the early evening darkness, casting a soft glow across the driveway. The car itself was a statement—luxury, power, and precision. It wasn’t just a car; it was a symbol of the man behind the wheel. And those who were fortunate enough to be around to witness this rare scene of luxury stepped out in awe and low whispers, wondering whom it could be that drove into Vivian's driveway.

“We’re using the Rolls Royce Phantom today.” Victor nodded without question. “Very well, sir.” We walked out together. Hanna trailed slowly behind us, her steps hesitant, as if unsure whether she was still welcome. The sleek black Phantom gleamed under the morning sun, its presence commanding respect. Victor held the door open for me. I slid into the back seat. Hanna hesitated at the other door, then climbed in silently when I didn’t object. The car pulled smoothly out of the driveway. Tension filled the cabin like thick smoke. Hanna kept stealing glances at me, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

Two expensive seeming cars sat at the bottom, one a bright red sports looking car and the other, a black BMW, both cars requiring someone with a large payload to own. Without uttering a word, I’m led past the red sports car, which was probably the best call, if we wanted to blend in and not have each person turn to look at the nice car going by, and head over to the black BMW. Baxter, opens up the passenger door for me while pushing more of his things in the back, uttering a small thank you, I climb into the car and watch as he locked his door and came rushing back into the garage jumping in beside me.

Everyone agreed and left to take their positions. Damien walked out of the front door first. The tiny stones that covered the driveway crunched and clinked underneath our feet as we followed behind him. He stopped in the middle of the drive and held his hand up for us to stop too. We didn't need to wait long, as a few minutes later a black Mustang sped up the drive and skidded to a stop right in front of Damien. Then a little black sports car pulled up beside it, and then six more black cars, with blacked out windows followed up the drive and parked behind them.

she teased, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Call it that again, and I’ll shove this cup down your throat.” Ash gagged dramatically, laughing. “Relax. I’m just messing with you. Honestly, though, have you seen the car he came with?” I turned my head toward the window, spotting the sleek black Camaro parked outside. It looked out of place in the neighborhood, a gleaming piece of modern luxury amidst modest homes. “I’m starting to think I don’t know anything about him,” I admitted.

The room was my sanctuary, the one place that held me when I needed answers, filled with things I found thrilling—dark wood panels, shelves lined with books I hardly ever read, a desk cluttered with the remnants of legitimate business deals that had taken the place of my former crimes. I sank into the leather chair, dialing a number from memory. It rang twice before a gravelly voice answered, just the one I sought to hear. "Mr. Blackwood. Didn't expect to hear from you so soon after... well, you know." "Cut all the chit-chat, son," I snapped. He was an old contact from back in the days, a spy who owed me favors since I pulled him out of a jam with a rival gang that had their minds set on kil