Page 9 of Bully for Sale
“Stay the fuck away from me,” Ezer gritted out.
As Ned stared at the spit on his blazer, a strange frozen helplessness held him. He looked up just in time to see Finch’s fist connect with Ezer’s gut. No visible bruises. Finch’s usual style. Ned stepped forward to pull Finch off Ezer where he curled on the ground, but the headmaster came out of the main building, shouting, “What’s going on over there?”
Braden’s grip was strong as he hauled Ned away from where Ezer lay gasping. “C’mon, unless you want your Uncle Heath to have to find yet another new school for us.”
Shaken, mind whirling, Ned let Finch and Braden lead him toward the subway station. They jumped the stiles and leapt onto the first train in their race to get away from the headmaster who had come after them in full pursuit.
“He wasn’t wearing his glasses,” Finch said, laughing. “Everyone knows Headmaster Wendel is blind without them.”
Neddidn’tknow that. They’d only been at Doubleton a few weeks. How did Finch and Braden get this kind of information? They always did, though, at every school they’d attended together, and Ned wished he could get away from them for good.
As the train jostled through the tunnels, shame filled Ned. Braden and Finch’s giddy laughter at what they’d said and done to Ezer made him sick. He vowed he’d stop being friends with them. He’d sit with Ezer at lunch. He’d sit alone. He’d make himself an outcast, but there was no way he could stomach another second of their crap.
Maybe he’d even turn them in. Come out the hero. Ezer would like him then, wouldn’t he? And even if he didn’t, maybe Ned would like himself.
That had to count for something.
Chapter Three
Present Time
Six months ago,Ned had promised himself that he was going to end his friendship with Braden and become Ezer’s protector, but that hadn’t happened. His reasons were shameful and could be summed up with a single sentence: Ned was a coward and a very bad person.
The day after the incident on the fourth day of school, Ned’s father Lidell had made it clear that because his brother Heath had cut him off, their livelihood was in the hands of Braden and Finch’s fathers and the contracts they held with Lidell’s company. He’d praised Ned for keeping in those boys’ good graces.
So now, the morning after the shameful event in the courtyard outside Ezer’s da’s run-down apartment building, Ned lounged by his father’s pool, soaking in the light winter sun, and stewing in self-hatred. He chewed his bottom lip and tossed restlessly on the lounger. He should’ve kicked Braden in the face like he’d wanted to do. He’d been about to. Truly. He just should’ve done it faster.
Like always, he’d been paralyzed with fear.
Why? He was bigger than Braden, and much bigger than Finch. He could take them both down in a fight. So what if their fathers turned on his? Who cared if making enemies of them could result in his father losing everything?
Who was he kidding?Hecared about that.
But what Braden and Finch had done to Ezer the day before?Thathad been more than the casual brutality and bullying they sent Ezer’s way at school—a nasty comment here, a boot to the ass there. They’d never set out torapehim before.
Braden had claimed plenty of times that Ezer was too stuck-up and needed to be made to understand that omegas like him were lucky to get any attention at all from an alpha of the peerage. But Ned didn’t know what had changed yesterday, or why Braden had decided to target Ezer sexually.
Ezer hadn’t done anything to deserve it.No onewould have deserved that…
Again, though, who was he kidding? Of course he knew what had been different yesterday. It wasn’t Ezer, though. It was Braden and Finch. They’d been cranked up on Bright’s powder again. They always got vicious on the stuff, and Ezer had been the unlucky omega to catch their attention. Worse, he was the unlucky omega who had a history of denying Braden and Finch the one thing they craved more than Bright’s powder: fearful respect.
It was grotesque. All of it.
But Ned’s part in it, standing by, doing nothing of any real use, was sickening. He hated himself.
Coward.
“Ned, are you feeling okay?” Earl, his personal servant from childhood, appeared by the lounger, blocking out the pale sun. Paid by his Uncle Heath and married to Heath’s own childhood servant, Simon, Earl had been around the family longer than Ned had been alive. “It’s too cold to go swimming, dear, or are you just sunning?”
Ned grunted, wanting to unburden himself to his trusted friend, but feeling embarrassed. He’d confessed his sins to Earl sometimes in the past, often leaving out the absolute worst details, and Earl had always helped him to feel better. But Ned also knew Earl would worry if he heard about Ned’s expedition to Roughs Neck for Bright’s powder, and he’d worry even more if he knew about the bullying of George Fersee’s son.
He’d be disappointed, too.
Ned couldn’t stand to have Earl disappointed in him.
Earl tapped his leg. “Scoot over, you. Let me feel your forehead.”
“I’m not sick,” Ned said, moving over anyway, and enjoying the pampering despite his protests. “I’m angry.”
