Page 138 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“This is insane!”

I pick her up and put her on her feet. “Now’s not the time to dwell on it. Ready to run?”

She smiles. “This feels familiar.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was delusional… but I do know her, and I know she’s referring to the time we ran through a field to hide from my parents.

I jerk. She had asked me about a field. But…

“Come on.” She takes a few quick steps backward. “They’re going to catch us, and the whole night will be ruined.”

What else can we do?

We run.

She goes toward the parking lot, but I grab her arm and steer her toward the woods bordering the school. There’s a path somewhere along here…

“This way!” Matt comes from our left, Hanna on his back.

Claire jogs beside him, worry painted over her features. “The path is over here.”

We follow them along the tree line. The harsh lights from the police cars paint everything red and blue. It makes the earth weirdly pitted. Margo trips in a hole and latches on to my arm.

“Keep moving,” Matt calls.

He finds the path and veers into the woods.

“Hey, stop!”

They found us.

Margo’s palm is sweaty against mine, but I don’t let go. I can’t. She’s slow behind me, but it doesn’t matter. Matt and Claire have their phones out, flashlights illuminating the ground in front of us. All I can hear is Margo’s sharp pants.

I drag her to a halt. “Get on my back.”

“But—”

I drop to a knee. “Now.”

She jumps on, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“Try not to choke me.” I get to my feet. She’s light—we should’ve done this ten minutes ago. I take off after Matt.

Margo lets go with one hand, reaching back. Her phone flashlight comes on, giving me enough light to see the path.

I catch up to them quickly.

Constant vigilance. Something Margo’s dad used to say to me. I glance around, trying to figure out where we are. It’s a cross-country running path—it has to lead back to the school eventually.

“This way,” Matt yells.

We go onto a smaller path, mostly hidden by leaves. Ahead of us, Claire slips on loose stones and almost goes down.

“Where is he taking us?” Margo says in my ear.

“Somewhere the cops won’t find you,” I answer. If she’s caught, it doesn’t matter if she was involved or not—they’d take her in. She’s in the system. She’s labeled a runaway. What next, a troublemaker?

Not on my watch.

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