Page 44 of Wicked Games

It’s always been this way.

“You will not embarrass me,” my uncle whispers, leaning over me.

The quieter he gets, the more dangerous.

Isn’t that something I’ve always learned?

“Deal with Amber Wolfe. I don’t fucking care what you have to do—this is your mess.”

He throws me towards the floor. If I fight, he’ll come at me five times harder. It was always like this. He made sure I knew he could break me from a young age. And now it’s cemented there, so his anger deflates me. I hit the floor on my side. The impact rattles my bones, but I manage to protect my head. Not that he’d go for it—but slamming my temple on the floor would add up to sheer stupidity in his mind.

Not a fault of his.

“Despicable,” Uncle curses. “Donotbe late to school. Do you hear me? I will not have yet another stain on this family name by your lack of self-discipline.”

He waits.

“Yes, Uncle,” I finally reply.

“Good. Clean up this mess while you’re at it.”

He steps over me. I stay where I am until the door shuts with a softsnickbehind him.

Every instinct is screaming at me to get out of the house. But it’s a case of willpower to slowly gather the chessboard and pieces. I reset the board slowly. My ribs ache—more so when I press my palm to my side. My abdomen is sore, too.

It’s not as bad as it could’ve been.

Not as bad as it’s previously been.

I straighten my clothes and force my shoulders back. When I exit the study, I come face-to-face with my mother.

It’s been a while since I last saw her. Her hands flutter around my arms without touching. Seems she’s at war about whether to drag me into a hug or just stare at me.

“How bad?” she whispers.

I shake my head once. No doubt she overheard. Houses as big as this one, sometimes it’s impossible to know if you’re in it alone or if someone is right around the corner. Or if the air ductvent in the corner routes to the room above, allowing voices to travel with clarity…

“Let me take care of Amber,” she says. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

I do, indeed.

When I leave, I don’t go straight to school. I go to Margo’s house.

Riley is already parked on the curb. She got her license as soon as she could. She’s one of the only juniors who drives to school—a privilege usually reserved for seniors. But right now, she’s getting in the way.

I hop out of my Audi and go to her car. I tap on the window, and she shrieks.

I smirk.

Her window goes down an inch.An inch. Guess someone’s been filling her head with poisoned thoughts. I was never cruel to her. Never bullied her. In fact, I’ve been nice enough to not interfere with her acquaintance with Eli.

“I’ve got it,” I tell her.

She scoffs. “On your life.”

“Exactly. Now leave.”

Her eyes gleam. “Because if I stay, you think she’ll choose me over you?”

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