Page 39 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

That lasts about… two minutes.

I pop out of bed and close my door, flicking on the light. Ridiculous, I think to myself. He knows how to get in my head, and I hate it.

My bracelet sits on the dresser. I’d returned it to my old house, and he… he knew. And he returned it.

I run my finger over the web of metal, shaking my head. I can’t do this right now. I can’t forgive him.

I leave it where it is and crawl back into bed. I don’t have the energy to try to deal with Caleb’s mental games. After everything that’s happened today, my mind hasn’t stopped spinning.

My conversation with Amelie about Caleb’s meddling… she thinks I shouldn’t let him get away with it. Well, I won’t.

And then the more devastating piece of news: Savannah texted him the picture.

My eyes pop open again. I can’t believe that I forgot about it. Savannah is Unknown.

I should’ve suspected her sooner.

I sit up and grab my phone, scrolling through past messages with Unknown. I linger on the picture of Ian and me. Is it true? Does Savannah have that big of a vendetta against me that she’d try to ruin my life—and threaten me to stay away from Caleb?

She was at the party where the video was taken. And while she had some noticeable absences from school, I’m pretty sure she was there the day Ian dragged me into the woods. But…

Something doesn’t feel right about it.

Why would she do such a thing?

I shake my head. Caleb’s right: I need answers. But I doubt he has them. I never mentioned Unknown to him—whether that was a bright idea or not, I can’t say.

Imagine if he’s in on it.

That’s another possibility.

I put my phone on the nightstand, flopping back.

The suspects are:

Amelie.

Savannah.

Ian. Yes, Ian, even though he was the one in the picture. He could’ve paid someone to take it and send it to Caleb. He could’ve paid Savannah.

Caleb.

I grimace. His whole friend group is on my suspect list. Any of them could want me to stay away from him for his own sake. For his sanity.

And I’m also well aware that it could be no one on my list. It could be… literally anyone.

“Fuck,” I whisper. I resign myself to a night of fitful sleep. Every so often, my thoughts circle back to the bracelet on the dresser, and Caleb’s…

You’re killing me.

Right back atcha.

He’s confusing and complicated.

Eventually, I fall asleep. I dream of Caleb and my mother.

They’re arguing in his house, just beside the screen door. I can see them from where I’m crouched. Caleb has gray streaks in his hair, and my mom is red in the face. Their hands wave. Their lips move, but I hear nothing. Spit flies from Caleb’s mouth, and I instinctively hunch lower. Their anger scares me. I’m frozen in my hiding place.

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