Page 122 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“Caleb!” his dad screamed. “What the fuck is this mess?”

“The chessboard,” he whispered. His shoulders slumped. “I’ll be right back. Margo. Stay here.” He pushed me back into the room.

I latched on to the door, and I couldn’t pry my fingers off of it. Not until Caleb was back. Fear wormed its way up my throat, choking me. My dad never got angry like that. Never screamed. Mom did, but Dad said it was the chef in her. She learned how to use her voice in a kitchen, surrounded by men.

I didn’t know what that meant, but I always nodded.

At any minute, Caleb was going to appear in front of his dad and take the blame for the chessboard and pieces spread across the floor in the living room. But before it had even begun, everything screeched to a halt. Something had distracted Caleb’s dad.

“I’m coming to get my daughter,” Dad said, right on time. “Jesus, Ben. I could hear you from my house.”

“Your house,” Caleb’s dad sneered. “It isn’t your house. It’s mine. And who do you think you are, coming in here like you’re welcome?”

“I came for my daughter,” Dad answered. Even. Maybe annoyed, but definitely not showing it.

The fear loosened its grip on my airways.

“She’s not here,” Caleb’s dad snapped.

“Margo!” Dad called. “It’s okay, honey. Come on out.”

I ran out of Caleb’s room, down the stairs, and launched myself into Dad’s arms. Caleb was on the floor at his dad’s feet, scrambling to pick up the chess pieces. I tried to help, but Dad held me fast to his side.

“Caleb was going to teach me how to play,” I whispered into his shirt.

Dad looked from me to Caleb, then Caleb’s dad. “Well.”

“What did she say?” Caleb’s dad snapped.

“Caleb and Margo wanted to learn how to play chess,” Dad said. He released me and bent down. He picked up the box, sliding the board inside. One by one, he took the pieces out of Caleb’s hand and put them away, his hands steady. “I think we can do it in our living room. Margo’s mom was a chess champion back in her day. Maybe she can give us some pointers.”

He straightened and put the box under his arm.

Caleb’s dad stared at mine. “Well.”

“Amberly will be over soon, I’m sure,” Dad said. “I’ll send Caleb back with her.”

“Well,” Caleb’s dad said again. The wind had been taken out of his sails.

Dad took my hand. I took Caleb’s.

My first hero marched us out of the house, and we didn’t look back. It didn’t make it okay—it didn’t erase the pops and flashes of terror the sight of Caleb’s dad incited. But knowing Dad was just a minute away sure did help.

* * *

Present

“Riley,” I choke out, sinking to my knees.

A tsunami wave of sadness hits me square in the chest. I didn’t realize how much I missed my dad until I recalled that fear of Caleb’s dad.

I dig my fingernails into the wood.

“Tell me,” she says.

I lay out what I remembered. It wasn’t necessarily a new memory, or a previously blocked one, but it was one I had shuffled to the very back of my mind. Caleb’s dad had a temper. It matches what I dreamed about—my mom and him in an argument.

“What does it mean?”

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