Novelas y relatos de Matt Dillon Outsiders

“What did you do?” “I don’t know-” I return, my eyes shifting behind him as Matt and Fletcher sneak up, each with their guns raised. They move stealthily through the grass, their movements so silent I wouldn’t have noticed them if they weren’t in my eyesight. “Bitch!” Dillon screams, making me flinch, his hand rearing back, wanting to strike me. His palm centimeters from my face, before he pauses, his figure halting, frozen. With wide eyes, I watch as his unconscious form falls to the ground with a thud.

His eyes became slightly red, and he appeared to be in a bad mood. Dillon had always been perceived as cold and ruthless by the general public. Despite everyone’s objections, he left his family to pursue the supreme realm of kendo arts. Many people had chastised him for being heartless when he didn’t return home for over a decade. On the contrary, Dillon didn’t have a heart of stone. He was just a man who was trying to achieve his own goals. Undoubtedly, Eldrian was the one who had helped Dillon the most, so it was natural for him to have built a deep relationship with the former. The elderly Demigod’s death had broken his heart, that was for sure.

Dylan was surprised to see Matt outside the bathroom. He was leaning against the wall, and it looked like he was waiting for him. Matt motioned for them to come out, and he followed. They went to the garage, Dylan looked around to see if anyone else was there. "You're sick?" Matt asked. "I'm not in pain," Dylan said "Don't lie anymore, I know you're hiding something. Do you think I didn't notice?" Matt said. Dylan took a deep breath. "Notice what?"

I opened my eyes. My dad, Alan Jameson, had grabbed Sophie's wrist mid-swing and flung her to the ground. "How could you treat Preston like this?" he roared. Amelia snapped out of her shock and lunged at him, but he kicked her aside. Olivia tried to help her, but none of them were a match for him. One by one, the Caldwells were knocked to the floor. Tommy saw fury in Alan's eyes and hurried to me instead.

He then turned to him with a pair of beautiful eyes and said, "Uncle, let's go." As if he had woken up from a dream, Daniel replied, "oh," and followed the two outside. After the three of them left, Dillon let out a huge breath and almost fell to the ground. 'Well, that was terrifying. Where did Nicole find this guy? He had such a murderous vibe.' he thought. Dillon then wiped the sweat out of his face and realized the words in his thoughts. 'Murderous vibe.' 'Did that foreigner think that he could kill me?!'

One day maybe, he'd like to get to know them more. Dillon was raised in a lower class neighborhood in an older satellite city outside of Philadelphia. That is unacceptable for a member of his community, and any people that also struggled with that are treated like second-class citizens. They'd even get beaten and left for dead, or likewise. Dillon didn't enter this world to be thrown away, disposed of like trash because of that. He'd never been first priority to a lot of people since the beginning. If nobody will acknowledge him, Dillon will acknowledge himself. He'll gain control of that and be someone that is loved and wanted regardless. Who knows, maybe that was just a phase. Dillon knew

In worst cases, the overall ranking of Adelaide Academy will definitely drop. Upon knowing those possibilities, I still did not stop running Ringo Dingo. Instead, I am working hard to make my business grow. This is the only way I know that will help me in surviving this life. Even my own parents forgot about me. I haven’t heard a thing from them since the day they left me. It’s funny how I still call them ‘parents’ even though they didn’t treat me as their child. I had no one else to run. It has always been myself and I.

I smiled as I made a call, "Hello, officer? As far as I know, Madeline Lewis owed a huge gambling debt abroad, and she returned just to raise money. I suspect she might have trafficked Fable Lewis." An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—I just had to get back at those who wronged me. Otherwise, what was the point of life?

I wave. “Dude, this place is packed,” Dillon says. He’s got that glazed-over, I’m-going-to-party-till-I’m-trashed look in his eye as he takes everything in. Tall and muscular with a freshly shaved head—he promised he’d shave off his blond dreadlocks if we won the championship—he’s originally a California surfer boy who moved to my neighborhood in Pennsylvania when he was ten just to play football in the South, a rich kid. We came from completely different backgrounds, but he’s the closest thing I have to a brother. I grin. “Wish Sam and Chander were here. Losers.”

Dillon works for the same company we’re trying to collaborate with. Small world! But I was wrong. Dillon wasn’t the company lawyer. “Ladies,” Damion said. “This is Dillon, my son.”