C Thomas Howell Outsiders Novels & Stories

Thomas grew short with everyone, spending long hours at his computer researching old house problems while avoiding the truth he had almost uncovered. The house pushed back harder. One evening during dinner the table itself shifted several inches, knocking over glasses and plates. Harper clapped her hands. “The lady is mad because you covered her up!” Rachel paled and took the children upstairs. Thomas sat alone at the ruined table, staring at his hands. I felt a twisted satisfaction in his fear, but it only deepened my own exhaustion. The house allowed me these small victories while keeping the greater truth locked away.

Thomas's deep voice rang out through the empty parking space as he stopped in front of us. "When it comes to my pack's safety, you'll find I can be quite protective. We don't get outsiders here often, so when we do, we treat them all the same." "So you always have one of your mutt's tail strays outside their homes for a week before they come home. Damn, and here I thought I was special." I inwardly cursed at the fact that he had figured out Parker was tailing him. Parker was the best tracker we had; if Thomas spotted him, it only meant he either had equipment we didn't know about that could track outside movement within a certain parameter, or I terribly underestimated Thomas and his wolf.

His eyes lit up as he grabbed it—it was a message from Thomas. Thomas: [Theo, is Sharon asleep?] Theo: [Mom is asleep, and Wendy went to the next room to rest. It's just me in the room now. Thomas, where are you?] Thomas: [I'm at the door. Open it for me.] A grin spread across Theo's face. He glanced at Sharon—she was sleeping peacefully—and tiptoed to the door. He gently opened it, revealing a tall, silent figure standing just outside the room. It was Thomas, someone he hadn't seen in a while.

he ask skeptically "Because I miss something. That I made a mistake. You will fire me then the floor will open up underneath me because you fire me and the tunnel will lead me straight to the outside alley and then I'll go back again to the province but I don't want to go back there. Maybe I'll just become a hobo here. Oh I did not see Mr. Thomas the one beggar who is staying at grand central. Do you know him?" He looks confused and bewildered at the same time. "No you will no get fired. I assure you my office floor is stable. You will not go back to the province where you came from and I will not let you and who the heck is Mr. Thomas?" "Mr. Thomas is my resident hobo friend. I give him $10

With Ayana and Dela watching, after their last customer has been served, Thomas really makes his statement a reality. Olive can only watch from the outside area, confused and annoyed about why Thomas is being so thorough. In her opinion, the amount of money on hand matches the calculations and the report. But for some reason, Thomas seems to be trying to find a way for Olive to get into new trouble. She's absolutely sure that's what Thomas is up to. Why else would he be talking about his credibility as the new head teller candidate?

"Me girlfriend left meh to join 'em bloodsuckers, when I tried to stop 'er she narly poke me eye out. I hate 'em bloody blood suckers, no 'fence to ere guys 'ere." "None taken, but you are right. We all have been betrayed by our families and friends." Thomas said. He was the leader of the Crock clan, and had tattoos all over his arms to show his status. A scar ran across his left eyebrow that he said was caused by a run-in with April long ago.

AIDEN'S POV Thomas Reynolds’ temporary place to stay was just a small room in the back of a shady poker club in Southie. From the look of the old two story building outside, he was probably sleeping on a dirty cot made of trash, hair, and diseases. Instead of knocking, I kicked the weak screen door down and walked right in. Three tables full of men with dirt and oil on their faces looked up at me, their eyes leaving their cards. “Thomas Reynolds,” I said in a low voice. No need for anything else.

I did not need to look back; the castle stood tall behind me, its towers jagged against the light of the moon, its lowly matter of pathos obscured by precarious shadows—ahead of me lay the crumbling hunter's shack nestled in vines, where no one would think to look. He was there already—Thomas, the newest snake in Dane's den, although he referred to himself as Dwayne Thomas, a name as sharp as his ambition. I spied him, he was hunched over in a silhouette through the broken window, broad shoulders blending away in the darkness of his cloak. I pushed the door open, soft creaking of the hanging frame announced my presence as I stepped inside to stale air laden with rot and decaying wood.

Thomas expertly navigated through the underbrush, maintaining a safe distance from Judah, his senses heightened to ensure he went unnoticed. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Judah led them to a dilapidated hut hidden within a secluded clearing. With Judah's entry, Thomas seized the opportunity to creep closer, inching his way toward the hut. His movements were swift and purposeful, seeking vantage points that provided both visibility and concealment.