Star Wars Ghost Crew Novels & Stories

When Greg arrived, the entire area was roped off. He began to wonder if something had happened to an actual person instead of just a car which he saw as well. He was disgusted with the look of it, and it seemed everyone around the area was as well. That was when he spotted the woman in question in the back of a squad car. She started squealing when she saw him at the same time. “My wife is in there, Kristen Bridger,” Greg said when he got to the front of the crowd that was waiting to see what was going to happen.

"So this would be my new home for now. Where are we marching to?" "Back to where you're coming from," Xavier replied. "It's time I taught my uncle a bitter lesson." Ghost was still pacing about in the throne room when he heard the murmurs of people outside his palace. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and he had grown slimmer in the past weeks. His long white hair now looked more grey than white and it was twisted in locks in a few places. To say, Ghost looked as haggard as an old man without a home. He was stressed, and losing his mind. None of his men were bringing any positive reports for him from the West again. Apparently, warriors he had sent there to help protect Obada had decided

FALLING FOR A GHOST 3 - For Nevaeh is back from the land of the dead with a single purpose; avenge her own death and that of her sister, Heaven. Uche, a good-looking young man in his early twenties, who also happens to be an atheist has been unlucky with women in his previous relationships, he seeks true love and hopes to find it if only it existed.

“Signal Ghost. Tell him to use the Pennsylvania decoy route. Make it look like an ambush.” Zayn types quickly. “Done.” The team we hired is ex-military—mercenaries with no allegiance beyond money. I don’t trust easily, but Ghost’s crew are ghosts for a reason. No trails. No names. No mess. As the second feed flickers online, we watch headlights appear in a secluded part of the Appalachian highway. Two semi-trucks, loaded with Dante’s merchandise. A black SUV intercepts them. Tires screech. Men shout.

"You're scum, Grayson. A cold, heartless bastard. My sister gave you everything, and you gave her nothing. You and that woman will get what's coming to you. Mark my words." When Liam finally exhausted himself, he let Grayson fall to the floor and stormed out, leaving him crumpled and sobbing like a broken man. Later, Liam oversaw my cremation himself. Grayson, hollow-eyed and silent, trailed behind, watching as the flames consumed what remained of me. When it was over, he tried to take my ashes, but Liam stood in his way.

A wave of shock and murmuring rippled through the meeting room. Warren’s face turned deathly pale. “Turn it off! Shut it down now!” he shouted. His voice cracked with panic. But the system was completely out of control. The screen finally paused on a media player interface. An audio file began to play on its own. “It’s done, Mr. Brennan. I’ve already tampered with the brakes. I guarantee it’ll work perfectly...” A calm and lethally cold voice filled the silent room. “You’ll get your money after the job is done.”

It was her competence, her unwavering resolve that captivated him. The pursuing rider appeared, slowing as they scanned the empty path. Sonia tensed, ready to spring— "Wait," Alex whispered, placing a hand on her arm. "Look at the jacket." The rider wore a leather jacket emblazoned with a faded insignia—one Alex recognized from his father's oldest photographs. The Ghost Squadron. Carlos Rodriguez's most elite security team, officially disbanded fifteen years ago. "Stand down," he called out, emerging from their hiding place despite Sonia's hissed warning.

“And if we fail?” The Admiral didn’t blink. “Then the world tears itself apart. That’s the cost.” The room went quiet. No one argued. Everyone knew he was right. But destroying the emitters wasn’t a clean military operation. It was shadows fighting shadows. Admiral Hayes tapped the screen and a list of names appeared. No uniforms. No official ranks. Just codename after codename. “Ghost Cells,” he said. “Operatives who don’t exist on paper. Men and women who owe me favors… or who simply can’t stand by while the world burns. They’ll move where armies can’t.”

A localized, reverse waterfall of boiling steam erupted into the hurricane-torn sky. Inside the cockpits of their Vanguard mechs, the three rookies—Kael, Elias, and Maria—were utterly paralyzed. "Is... is that a ghost?" Kael stammered, his neural link broadcasting pure, unadulterated awe. "A ten-ton Vanguard mech couldn't even dent that thing. He just stopped it with his flesh." "That's no ghost, kid," Elias Vance swallowed hard, staring through the boiling steam at the figure suspended in the abyss. "That's the bloody Commander."

She did not know that her name sat on a list of future targets, marked by someone who had been watching us from the trees. I gathered a strike team before Lucas finished speaking. Six wolves. Skilled. Fast. Trustworthy. I left Lucas behind to coordinate from the packhouse. I did not have the luxury to wonder if he belonged by my side. Not now. I chose the wolves whose loyalty had never wavered. We left within minutes.