Star Wars Ghost Crew Novels & Stories

106 The Ashbarrie palace war room was already crowded when Puc and his Ghosts stepped through the teleport gate. Mikan, Brie, Trace, Morgan, Cain, Daxen, and Captain Garrik were waiting. But the moment the Ghost squad materialized, the temperature in the room shifted. Puc looked like he’d brought the graveyard with him. His mask was off rare and ash streaks still clung to the creases of his armor. His team was silent, standing in formation behind him, each one visibly on edge.

Ghost led the group, his pale face grim, while behind him came faces Raven recognized from their war days—Diesel, Viper, Hawk, and two newer prospects she didn't know. "Prez," Ghost said, approaching the porch with his hands visible but his expression urgent. "We need to talk. All of us." "This better be good," Jax replied, not lowering his weapon. "You know the rules about coming here unannounced." "Rules change when the Colombians show up asking questions about their missing shipment," Diesel rumbled, his massive frame tense with barely controlled aggression. "The shipment that was supposed to go through Diamondback territory before we burned their organization to the ground."

Another message from Mila. "They're moving me. Taking me to the main compound. I saw the roster. The ghost is here. He's working for your grandfather now. Been undercover in Damien's organization for two years." The words hit like ice water. Damien grabbed the phone. Read it. His face went white. "No. That's not possible." "Who?" Celeste demanded. "Who on your team is Ghost?" Damien couldn't speak. Just stared at the screen. Celeste's brother took the phone. Read it. Swore. "Marcus Reeves. Your head of security."

Identify yourselves for scanning. "They found you," Sarah’s voice crackled through a small comms device Julian had tucked into his ear. He had managed to get a signal through to her. "Julian, the 'Ghost' sent a clean-up crew. They aren't Thorne guards. They’re Vanguard. Get out of there now!" Julian grabbed Elara’s hand, his grip like iron. "Marek, the drive. Now!"

The system announced, "The game rules are now active, and players may not withdraw. All 100 players have been deployed. "Welcome to the 'Ghost Cruise'. Remember: you are all stowaways, so good luck staying alive." A flash of white light burst out, and we were all transported onto a cruise ship floating on the open sea. The system gave each of us a card that we could use to make purchases anywhere on the ship. However, it only had 50 dollars loaded on it. My interface displayed three stats: hunger, thirst, and energy, and all three were currently in order. Once any of them hit zero, the player would be eliminated immediately.

"Not so much anymore but he may still have teeth and is dangerous enough for me to go after him this time. He hurt you to get to me and that just doesn't do." The 'Ghosts' as they were called, were an elite special forces group that officially didn't exist. They made video games out of the rumors but they got their name from their preference of optical camouflage that made them almost invisible to the human eye. They'd be sent in on high-risk missions, usually rescue jobs that conventional forces would have lost too many men in. Dad was mostly vague about his time in the military, he told me enough to know that he was pretty bad-ass but I didn't pry. War was horrible and I know he wanted to

“You think the law serves people like us? We own pieces of it, Lorenzo, but not the whole pie. And Pigo? He doesn’t play by rules. He moves people around like checkers and burns the board after.” Gabriel cut in, voice sharp. “Besides, I already got the team. Not you. Not Zia. Not Nia. Not even me. Ghost Squad. Former special ops, current shadows. Faces unknown. They go in clean. No trace. No fallout.” Lorenzo turned to Zia. Her face was pale, but her chin was lifted high. “They have my mother,” she said. “I don’t care how dirty we have to get.” A brief silence.

Luis was relaxing in his pool at the back of his mansion, with Marco his right hand man when one of his men walked up to them. “Boss.” He said with a slight bow. “Lucas.” “One of our stash houses was hit this morning.” There was silence for a while, which made Lucas fidget. Luis watched as Marco emerged from the pool, his arms, chest and back full of numerous black tattoos on pale skin. At over 6”4 he was an intimidating figure made of raw muscles. “And?” He asked impatiently. “They made away with two kilograms of our product.” Marco was now standing few inches away from Lucas.

It’s driving me fucking crazy. I’m typing out another message when the door opens, and my father steps in. “We got the shipment back.” “What?” I stare at him, stunned. “How?” “Ghost went on a killing spree,” he says flatly. “Left a shit ton of mess to clean up. The Calino crew is at war with us now, so watch your back.” “Where is Ghost?” I ask. “No one knows. He’s not answering. He killed Deano and a few other men—went completely crazy on them. He’s lucky to be alive. He went alone.”

“This is the last known location tied to Ghost’s network. If he’s anywhere near here, we’ll find him.” Serena’s fingers tightened on the collar of her coat, though she forced herself not to show the tremor she felt inside. The image of Marsen lying wounded in the hospital, whispering that one chilling name—Ghost—flashed relentlessly through her mind. This wasn’t just another raid. This was a reckoning. Harris gave a curt nod to his team. “Move in. Sweep methodically. No surprises.”