Trent
They materialized out of the dark.
Four men I knew well. My Omega brothers. One of them had even pledged with me.
One of them was Conner.
“Guys,” I said, feeling a note of warning creep up the back of my neck. What the hell were they doing out here in the dark, essentially lurking around the house?
“Told you,” Conner intoned. “He’s queer.”
My back teeth came together. “What the fuck is your problem, Con?” I snapped. “I’ve been listening to you sling hate at me for weeks. I thought you were better than that.”
“He didn’t deny it,” one of the other guys said. He was a close friend of Con’s.
“I bet they were making out in the car just now,” the guy I rushed with said.
I looked at him, incredulous. Was this for real? Were these guys really standing here harassing me because they thought I was gay? I knew they didn’t see me actually kiss Drew. It was too dark. “Were you sitting out here waiting for me to get home?”
“You’ve been sneaking in and out a lot lately,” Conner observed.
“I don’t sneak,” I snapped. “And I’ve been handling everything Omega. This house is still on point.”
“We don’t want a fag for a president,” Con said.
“The entire campus will think our house is full of them.” Another agreed.
“I gotta admit it looks bad, Trent,” my old “buddy” said. “You’re loyalty isn’t what it used to be.”
“Take it up with the dean,” I said hard and started to walk away. Goddamn, I couldn’t wait to be rid of this place. To think, up until a couple weeks ago, I’d been kinda bummed about moving on. Now I just wanted to wash my hands of it all.
Fucking unbelievable.
A hand grabbed my arm and jerked me around hard. The punch came immediately after, and I had no time to react. The blow landed on the side of my jaw and snapped my head back.
Adrenaline and disbelief assaulted me. I stumbled and righted myself, knocking away the hand that grabbed me.
Fuck this. I was gonna kick their asses.
I swung, nailing the guy beside Con. I rotated and rammed into the guy I thought was my friend. He fell back, and I kicked him in the side.
“Grab him!” Con yelled, and I sneered.
My hand caught his throat and squeezed. I was beyond thinking about how much damage I was going to inflict. All I saw was red. All I heard were the hateful words he’d spewed at me for weeks and then again tonight.
“Dick licker,” Con rasped, a twisted look in his eyes.
I pulled my arm back to nail him, but something caught it and held. I let go of Conner, and he fell in a gasping heap. Arms like vices pinned my arms behind me, and I started to kick.
More ugly words were yelled, and I got another hit to the side of my face.
Before I knew what was happening, it was four on one. The one was being pinned down and beaten.
I was a strong guy. Even in a less-than-fair fight, I could have kicked some ass. But this wasn’t a fight. It was an ambush driven by hate and jealousy.
The odds were not in my favor.
“Enough,” a voice above me yelled. “You’ve made your point, Con. Let’s go.”
Pain radiated in my side, and my eye was already swelling shut. I felt a hand patting down my leg, and I threw my arm out, blindly trying to hit someone.
The hand reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
“I need to make a call first,” Con said. I hated the smugness in his tone.
I tried to get up, to push off the asphalt, but I was disoriented, and blood blurred my vision.
“You might want to come back,” Con said, and I was confused. “You left something when you drove away.”
My phone was dropped beside my head.
“What the fu-uck did you do?” I gasped.
“Let’s go,” the guy who called off the “fight” said.
They left me there alone. I rolled onto my back and blinked up at the sky.
Get up, Trent. Get the fuck up!
With a hiss, I forced myself into a sitting position, using my hand as a prop. I swiped the blood out of my eyes and blinked at my Mustang nearby.
Pain radiated in my body, and the world around me tilted as I stumbled to my feet.
It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think.
These guys were supposed to be my brothers. We’d been living under the same roof for years.
I was betrayed. Beaten. Pissed off.
And all because of what?
Because they thought I was gay. If this was what happened when someone suspected I was gay, what would happen when they found out I actually was?
What will happen to Drew?
I fell into the back of my car and used it to guide myself down to the ground. I leaned against the back fender as various parts of my body throbbed.
In the distance, the familiar rumbling of the Fastback cut through the night. My eyes roamed the lot until it fell on my phone lying a few feet away.
That son of a bitch called Drew. He couldn’t see me like this.
My legs buckled when I first pushed off the ground, and I fell back. Headlights bounced close, and I held up an arm to shield my eyes and forced myself to stand.
“Trent!” Drew called over the sound of the running engine.
“I’m fine,” I said. He probably couldn’t hear me.
His pounding feet and a string of curses came close, and then he was there, wrapping one arm around my middle and helping me stand.
I sagged into his side, grateful for the support.
“Oh my God, T. What the fuck happened to you?”
“I’m fine,” I insisted again.
“Who the fuck did this?” he growled. His voice radiated with anger, and the arm holding me shook with rage.
“Drew?” I said, trying to focus on his face, but my one eye was swollen shut.
“Yeah?” His voice gentled.
“I want to go home.”
“Hospital,” he insisted and half dragged me to his car.
“No.” My voice was firm. “Home.”
He stopped long enough to pick up my phone, and then he was helping me into the car. I let my head fall back against the seat and my eyes close. I pressed a hand to my side, my breathing shallow.
“T,” Drew said from the driver’s seat. I felt him stare. His voice held so much worry and fear.
I smiled. It hurt, but I did it anyway. “I want to go home.”
He made a choked sound and then the car was flying. The sound of the engine growling as he sped through the streets was sort of like a lullaby.
“What the fuck happened?” Drew’s voice was broken.
All the nasty things they said as the blows rained down filled my head as my body throbbed. I whispered the only response I could.
“Hate.”