Wicked Games (Fallen Royals Book 2)

Margo’s phone buzzing wakes me out of a sound sleep.

My eyes snap open. Her cheek is pressed against my upper arm, hers slung across my chest. Her legs are tangled with mine. It must be early—there’s just the barest amount of light coming through the window. Slowly, so I don’t disturb her, I reach out and feel for her phone.

I was right about the early. It’s barely five o’clock in the morning.

Unknown

Do your foster parents know Caleb sneaks into your room at night?

That he fucks you while they sleep down the hall?

What the hell?

Another text comes through while I’m holding her phone.

There are things you need to know about the Asher family. Things only I can tell you. Do you know who you’re letting into your bed?

Rage coils in my throat.

Who the fuck do they think they are?

Me

I will find you and put an end to this.

Silence.

I delete the whole thread. Margo doesn’t need to see this kind of filth. This person is getting out of control, and I’m going to stop it. Her phone goes off again in my hand.

Unknown

Hello, Caleb.

I stare at the text, then jump out of bed. Margo whimpers, rolling over into the space I leave behind, 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 tug on my boxers, glaring around the room, then set to work.

I move things. Lift 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. Raising 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?” I hold it up, making sure not to aim the face at her. One of the eyes is too shiny—like glass. And when I use her phone’s flashlight, I can make out the tiniest little lens.

Shit.

“Where did you get this?” I repeat.

“I don’t know.”

She’s not the mermaid type. Someone must’ve given it to her.

“I don’t recognize it,” she says. “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.

It has to be a guy. Watching her in her bedroom?

Watching her change? Or have sex?

Hell, I feel violated, and I’m only here in the dark.

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. It seems fully encased, which makes me think I’d have to break it open to get anywhere.

I grab one of my socks from the floor and drop the mermaid in, then twist and wrap the excess around until there’s no way it can see out.

Does it have audio, too?

I stuff it into my bag and plant 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 know someone who might be able to figure this out for me.

I leave the wrapped mermaid in my car and stay outside. I lean my hip on the closed car door to make the phone call.

“Bit early, Caleb.”

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

Pause. Then, “Fine.”

I hang up. 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? Does it have GPS tracking?

The way I’m regarding it like a bomb is a little ridiculous. I blow out a slow breath and shake out my nerves.

Finally, I pull up to a mansion’s front entrance. The gate swings open ahead of me, and I park off to the side.

Matt Bonner, Lion’s Head’s star hockey player, meets me at the front door. He’s still in his sleep clothes, and he scowls at me.

“This—”

I hold up my hand, silencing him, and he waves me in. Once we’re in his room, I hand him the sock.

He takes it from me, wrinkling his nose, and shakes out the mermaid.

His eyes light up, and he gets to work.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, while he examines it. It takes a lot not to hover, but he’d probably 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 me and Eli. We hadn’t yet met Liam or Theo yet.

His dad owns a cyber security firm, and Matt either picked up the skill through genetics, osmosis, or some weird idea that he had to be good at computers to impress his dad. Who knows. Either way, it came in handy to track Margo down.

He was doing deep-dive searches while the rest of us were learning how to swim. How else was I supposed to find her?

Eventually Matt’s parents’ divorce finalized, and Matt’s dad relocated to a new house. This one, actually. Unfortunately for Matt, the closest private school was Lion’s Head. He transferred out the next year.

We hype up the rivalry when we’re under a microscope, but we’re still cool. Who gives a fuck if I can’t stand his teammates or we crush them on the ice?

“It’s just a camera,” Matt tells me. “No audio. Where’d you find this?”

“Margo’s room. How does it work?”

He swivels toward me. “That chick you were with at the football game.”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting. Weren’t you dating Lucy’s sister?”

He means Amelie. But he’d know Lucy better from Lion’s Head.

“Absolutely not.” I motion toward the figure in his hands. “Explain how it works.”

“It connects to Wi-Fi periodically and sends the video it collected. I think it’s motion activated, which is pretty standard, but it only records for a limited time to preserve life. Think like those doorbell cameras? You can tap into them and watch live, but it drains the battery. Unlike those doorbell ones, this doesn’t have audio. So in theory, it would last a lot longer.”

Freaking hell.

I rub my eyes. “Can you find out where it was sent? And what the last video was?”

“It has a setting in here to send a data dump once a day, then it erases. Pretty nifty, actually, but quite ordinary. You could find something similar in any tech shop in the city.”

“How am I supposed to find out who’s been spying on us?”

Matt shrugs. “Silver lining?”

I stare at him.

“The person would’ve had to connect it manually to their Wi-Fi. First, whoever put it there would obviously need the home’s password to get on, and then they’d have to set up this figure to connect.”

I mull that over. “It would be someone who had the house’s Wi-Fi password.”

“Yep.”

“She has a small network of friends.” I sigh, because I’m pretty sure I’m back to square one.

If Savannah or Amelie is Unknown, it would make sense that one of them would try to infiltrate Margo’s life.

So… which one did it?

There’s a sinking feeling in my chest. This has to end.

“Can you track it?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Yeah, I can probably rig a virus in. They’ll open the most recent video, and it will let me get into their computer.”

“You’re a fucking genius, man.” I slap his back and stand. I’ve still got to go home before I can make it to school. “Let me know what I owe you.”

“Undying gratitude,” Matt replies. “I’ll cash in a favor someday.”

At this rate, we trade exclusively in favors. What he’ll need in a day, a week, a year is anyone’s guess. But the same could be said for me.

“Call me when you get answers.”

And in the meantime, I’m going to set some fucking ground rules with the Emery-Rose student body.

Margo is off-limits.