Page 95 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

I stare at the text, then jump out of bed. Margo moans, rolling over, while I stare around her room. I’d understand if we were on the ground floor—at least that would explain a peeping Tom. But this?

Maybe a camera.

I move things, lifting baubles. I’m well aware that people make tiny cameras nowadays. It could be anywhere.

“Caleb?”

I glance behind me. “Shh.”

“What are you doing?”

“You have another hour to sleep,” I tell her, pushing books aside on the shelf. My eyes lock on to a ceramic mermaid. Lifting it, I contemplate if it’s actually heavier than it should be, or if I’ve officially gone crazy.

I look back at Margo. If she’s asleep, I’ll leave it alone.

She’s not. She’s risen on her elbow, hair a mess, and she watches me with wide eyes.

“Where did you get this?”

She tilts her head. “I don’t know.”

“Margo, it’s important.” She’s not the mermaid type. Someone must’ve given it to her.

“I don’t recognize it. Where’d you find it?”

“On your bookshelf.” I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Years of therapy didn’t do shit—except teach me how to breathe like a lunatic. A calm lunatic. I’m going to find this stalker and beat the living shit out of him.

She just stares at me, so I toss her the phone. She reads the single message, and her lips twist. I resume my inspection of the mermaid. I don’t know tech. But I do know that ceramic figures shouldn’t have wires coming out of the bottom.

I stuff it into my bag and cross the room, planting a kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you at school.”

Once I’m dressed, I go out the window, down the side of the house. I jog across the lawn and down the street to my car. I have a contact who can help me, but he doesn’t like to see me. Our friendship only works so long as no one knows we’re friends.

I leave the mermaid in my car, wrapped in an athletic sock, and lean against the door. He answers on the second ring.

“Bit early, Caleb.”

“I found something weird,” I tell him. “Mind if I stop over?”

“Fine.”

I smile and hang up, knowing he’d never voice the million questions he wants to ask over the phone. I drive in silence, not even playing music. Who knows what’s inside that thing?

Finally, I pull up to a mansion at the top of a hill. The gate swings open ahead of me, and I park off to the side.

Matt Bonner, Lion’s Head’s star lacrosse player, meets me at the front door. He’s still in his sleep clothes, irritated.

“This—”

I hold up my hand, silencing him, and he waves me in. Once we’re in his room, I show him the mermaid. I don’t know if we’re dealing with audio or a camera.

He takes it from me and gets to work.

I sit on the floor by his desk, watching him.

It takes a lot not to hover, but I know he’d punch me for it.

Matt and I became friends in middle school. His parents were going through a nasty divorce, and he was put at Emery-Rose’s middle school for a year while custody agreements were sorted out. He fell in with my new group: Liam, Eli, Theo.

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