Page 45 of Hate Game

Red’s crush? I groan. These Sterling boys are a heap of trouble. Did Red know Olivia was working for Malice’s parents?

“Where is she now?” I can get Red closure.

“No clue.”

The first bell rings. I head for the door. “Thank you. Gotta run.” Had I been at Delridge High, I would have taken my time, living up to my reputation of being habitually tardy. Here, I have the chance for a do-over.

Except I didn’t count on my reputation following me. I open the door to my first class and step in. The other students feign exaggerated gasps, surprised I’m on time. I ignore them and take the only seat left. It’s in the back. On the way, I don’t miss the whispers.

“Slut.”

“Gold-digger.”

I hold my head high, take my seat, and pull out my binder from my backpack. I pay attention to the teacher as though my life depended on it.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. I blink them away, refusing to cry. Crying gives them power over me. Gives them the chance to wallow in their satisfaction at making me hurt.

God, when will the rejection and hurt stop?

18

MALICE

My back is to Rue, but that doesn’t mean I let her suffer silently. I text Mr. Bryant, our substitute teacher while Mrs. Bowman is on leave.

He grabs his cell off his desk and glances at the screen. He pushes back his seat.

“Behave while I grab a package at the office.”

He leaves the classroom. As soon as the door closes behind him, my phone pings. A text message.

Cheater: Make it quick.

I read it with a smirk. I caught him banging Courtney, the office secretary, in the men’s bathroom after school, and now he’s eating out of my hands. That douchebag has a wife and baby at home.

I walk up to the front of the classroom. All eyes are on me. My boys trail my movement. They’re fully aware of my plan, and goddammit, there wasn’t much protest from Trace. Does he have history with Rue? Does hewantto start something with her? Rue would be a great distraction for whatever he has going on with Sorrow.

I saw how he looked at Sorrow when he helped her out of his Jeep—with hunger in his eyes. Then he blinked, and it was replaced by this nonchalance that drives the girls crazy. They do their best to elicit a reaction from him other than his signature smirk.

We three are alike. We like to be in control, hate when anyone defies us, and leave alone those who fall in line. Lately, that hasn’t been the story with Seven. The new girl, Leigh, showed up in town and defied him at every turn. Rather than getting her to fall in line, he lost control of his heart and fell hard for her.

That won’t happen to me. Rue isn’t new, and I fully understand where her defiance comes from. She grew up in a chaotic household and ran with a crowd that liked to beat up kids twice their size just to show the town they could. No one has stood up for Rue or helped her stabilize her life. Today, it changes.

I clear my throat. What is the point? I have their undivided attention. “I’m only going to say this once. Leave Rue the fuck alone. There will be no calling her names. Or picking fights with her. Or bringing up her mom. If I hear or see anyone disrespecting her, there will be hell to pay from me and my boys. You got that?”

“She’s living with you, bro. Don’t you think that’s indecent? You gotindecentthoughts, Sterling? Plan on putting it to fruition?”

I point a finger at the kid seated in the middle of the room. “Who the fuck are you? Oh, wait.” I stroke my chin. “You’re the new guy. Shut your trap, bruh. Rue is taken. She’s seeing Trace here.” I clamp my meaty paw on Trace’s shoulder. “And we guys don’t poach on another guy’s girl. Bro code.”

We fist pump. The guys in the room nod in agreement.

“Whatever.” New Guy gives me a dismissive wave. “Were I you, I’d be pounding that snatch every chance I get.”

I am on him faster than he can take his next breath. My fist slams into his face. Bone cracks beneath my knuckles. His hand shoots to his nose. Yeah, it’s broken. Blood spurts from his nostrils and smears his skin. I pull back my arm. Douchebag shields his face with his hands. I slam my palm into his chest. He and the chair topple over. I grip his shirt in my hand, ready to pummel him into a bloody mess.

A small hand on my arm snaps me out of my rage.

“Save it for when it matters.”

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