“Taytay!” Marty said, abandoning Frank halfway up the drive in favour of launching himself into Taylor’s arms.
Taylor caught him, hauling him onto his shoulders. He looked so tiny sitting up there, all skinny limbs and a smile that seemed to eclipse his entire face. His black curls were tighter and darker than Johnny’s, and Maman kept them shaved over the summer to avoid havingthreedifferent curl patterns to maintain.
“How’s it going, big guy?” Taylor said, tipping his head back to let Marty run his little fingers through his beard.
“Good,” Marty replied. “I won the egg and spoon race at sports dayandFrank got runner up for the prettiest pig at Wickham County Show.”
Taylor gasped. “No way! Did you paint his trotters like I showed you?”
“Yep!”
“Excellent.”
“Um, excuse me?” Johnny said, holding out his arms whilst the two pigs pressed their snouts into his pockets.
Marty rolled his eyes and held out an arm, prompting Taylor to place him back on the ground. He smiled and flung his arms around Johnny’s waist, nuzzling his face between his ribs. Taylor let out a soft laugh and began walking down the drive to retrieve Frank.
Johnny frowned when he noticed a cut on the delicate tip of Marty’s ear.
“What happened here?” he said, tapping his brother’s temple. Marty stayed silent and gripped Johnny tighter. “Hey?” he urged, transferring Ham’s reins into his other hand. “What happened?”
Marty groaned and dragged his face up Johnny’s front until his massive brown eyes looked up at him. He was frowning—pouting, actually—in that angry-cute way only omegas could pull off.
“I’m not telling.”
Johnny narrowed his eyes, flicking his gaze towards Taylor, who had begun jogging up the drive with Frank.
“Well, you better. Before Tay notices.”
Marty let out a long sigh and pressed his cheek to Johnny’s chest. “It was William, okay? He nicked me with his fang.”
Johnny’s eyes narrowed even more. “William Manders?”
Marty huffed, but said nothing.
“When?”
“Yesterday. In the woods.”
“Was he shifted?”
Marty nodded again, more slowly that time, still not meeting Johnny’s gaze.
“Wereyoushifted?”
Marty tightened his grip around Johnny’s middle.
“Were you shifted, Martin?”
There was a moment where Johnny could hear the air going in and out of the nine-year-old’s mouth, as though he was trying to find the right words for a convincing lie. Eventually, however, he just said, “No.”
Johnny clenched his teeth.Bastard. Fucking little bastard.
Pups play-fighting and nicking one another in wolf form was fair game. But a shifter getting rough with someone un-shifted, especially an omega, was one of the biggest social lines one could cross. He couldalmostforgive William, because he was only eleven, but unfortunately Johnny knew his parents. They were not nice people. In fact they were fucking chavs with more domestic call-outs than Johnny could count.
Johnnyknewhe should be kind. Give them the benefit of the doubt. That was what Maman had always taught him, butfuck,sometimes it was easier to ask for forgiveness than think good, Christian thoughts.
He placed a hand on Marty’s shoulder, drawing him back. “Have you told Maman?”
