Page 22 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“No, I’m pretty sure Caleb will take care of that.”

She stands, picking up her purse from next to the bed.

“Then why are you here?” I ask.

It’s like she’s been waiting for me to ask. She exhales.

“Caleb wronged both of us,” she says.

I squint.

“And you’re just going to let him control you like that?”

“No.” I cross my arms.

“Exactly.” She taps her fingernail on the dresser. “A united front, you know?”

“I thought you hated me.” And this could be a colossal trap. “Besides, I don’t trust you.”

Be a wolf, Margo.

“You don’t have to trust me,” she says. “What matters is that Caleb doesn’t win.”

I slowly nod. Even if I don’t like her, or trust her, she’s right. He’s been playing both of us to certain degrees. Why he chose to use her against me—and vice versa—I’ll never know. But right here, right now?

We could change the game.

“What are you proposing?”

Amelie goes to the window. “Your family is here.”

I flinch. “Foster family.”

“Right,” she whispers. “Whatever.”

I join her, looking down at the car pulling up Ian’s driveway. Angela’s car isn’t ahead or behind them. Most fosters wouldn’t come do the dirty work—they’d let the case worker clean up the mess. Even if the Jenkinses wanted to watch the show…

They get out of the car.

It’s just them.

“Breathe,” Amelie says, touching my shoulder. “I doubt they’re going to rehome you.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You need to trust people more,” she says. “Seriously.”

The sound of a doorbell echoes through the downstairs, traveling through the walls. I flinch again, stepping away from the window.

This is it.

Ian’s cheerful voice floats up toward us, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

Amelie grabs my arm. “They’re going to make you go back to school.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll have to see Caleb every day. You’re in what, three classes together?”

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