Ghost Echo
## Ghost Echo The rain tasted like rust. Finn wiped a smear of it from his cheek, the neon glare of the Neon Drift market blurring through the downpour. He tugged the hood of his worn jacket tighter, ignoring the…
Corporate Espionage
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Ghost Protocol
Rain lashed the ferroconcrete, slicking the corridors of the Exchange to a sheen. The air tasted of ozone and desperation. Jax traced a finger across the chipped Formica of the broker’s desk, ignoring the static cling. The man, Krell, didn’t…