Greasers Outsiders Novels & Stories

Beach inquired. "Ali and I found some strays-" "Strays?" Beach asked, confused. That was a term rarely used on the Outcasts since they never crossed the borderlines and got into the city but if ever they did then they were considered Strays and killed on sight. But, why Sage seemed concerned about these Strays beats him. Sage read his thoughts and she quickly shook her head and began speaking again. "They aren't Outcasts but visitors in the city who had flaws."

“He knocked you out so that they could abduct, um– what’s her name again? Oh, Yes, so that they could abduct, Wen–Wendy! Your girlfriend Wendy.” “So, are Chinese dudes, now working for the Outsiders?” Willy asked scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Not exactly, the Chinese man was a sophisticated version of the Outsiders known as the Collaborators,” Oswald the Stranger grinned at Willy darkly. Oswald wasn’t telling the whole exact truth there, about the Collaborators, who were also just low scums, just like those Outsiders. Let Willy find that out for himself. Suddenly Willy felt a deep frantic fear: A profound fear.

Dressed in a tailored navy suit that highlighted his athletic frame, he was polished to perfection. Yet, Avery still found his charm infuriating. "Sorry we were late," the man apologised with a charming smile that Avery immediately distrusted. His mother chimed in, her tone casual, "My dogs wouldn’t let me leave, so I had to make sure they were settled before coming." Avery blinked, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “What kind of excuse is that?” she thought. "Oh, that’s...understandable," Mrs. Downs responded awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation light. "No need to worry about the delay."

One after another, they emerged from the shift as massive, scarred men, their grease-stained leathers, torn thermal layers, and heavy combat boots reforming with them. Rogue werewolves. The Black Ridge pack. They smelled like stale tobacco, old grease, and rotten meat. Men who lived outside pack law, outside royal treaties, surviving on whatever they could strip from the corpses of travelers who took the wrong mountain pass. Caspian planted his bare feet in the frozen mud and stopped.

The flickering neon sign outside the grease-stained window buzzed with a low, irritating hum. Kasen Thorne sat in the corner booth of a gritty, twenty-four-hour diner in the slums of Eden City. A single cup of black coffee sat untouched before him, cold, dark, and bitter. He was drenched, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, and his cheap suit ruined by the wet asphalt where the Grand Plaza guards had tossed him like garbage. The blue and pink light from the neon sign painted his bruised face, but the cold fire in his dark eyes remained untouched. Every shallow breath pulled at the freshly torn sutures in his side, but he ignored the slow, warm trickle of blood staining his shirt.

"It still hurts, huh?” Casper glared at Aaron as he released his hair and stood to his feet. Then he looked out at the dark alley stretching around him. The rainwater flowed through cracks in the pavement, carrying dirt and trash, a few bumping into the place. The smell of the place was awful and it was worse down there. Gritting his teeth, he looked up at the crack addicts and the homeless laying around. They immediately moved when they saw Aaron and Jake and the guns they held. Some stumbled away while others disappeared deeper into the alley.