The Wicked Trilogy: Caleb & Margo (Fallen Royals #1-3), page 26
“Stop,” she blurts out.
I stare at her. “You’re acting weird.”
She shifts. “Remember that picture that got emailed around?”
Oh no.
“Um… there was a video.”
Oh no.
I don’t tell her I know there’s a video. That would open up a whole different can of worms—particularly because, while she knew I got a strange text when I first started, I haven’t told her about any of the following texts.
“It’s bad,” Riley whispers. “It’ll be okay, though. I just… your phone might be blowing up, and I don’t want you to freak out. In fact, you should probably just turn it off.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.” It’s more for myself, for Unknown, than Riley.
What did I do to push them over the edge?
“Who got the video?”
She hesitates.
I have to physically stop myself from getting angry at her. She’s just being a good friend.
“Everyone,” she blurts out. “Like, the school. And someone posted it on social media. And—”
I’m going to be sick.
The noises from that video—noises I made—play on repeat in my mind.
I rush to the bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the toilet. I throw up. The acid burns on my tongue, but my stomach doesn’t settle for a few long moments.
Finally, I’m able to straighten. Riley hands me a glass of water, giving me a sympathetic look.
I shake my head. “Don’t do that,” I say. “Don’t pity me.”
She grabs my toothbrush and toothpaste from my bag, placing it on the counter. “I’m not trying to pity you, Margo. You know I love you. I just hate that this is happening. Again.”
I nod. “Yeah. I just—”
“I’ve already reported the video. Eli did, too—”
“He saw it?” I drop the toothpaste and cover my eyes. I don’t want to know how many people are watching me get finger-fucked by Caleb Asher. But if people I’m close with are seeing it? I can’t show my face. I can’t go back to Emery-Rose after that.
“He didn’t,” she says. “Once we realized what it was… No, we didn’t.”
I let out a shuddering breath.
She wraps her arms around me. “Let’s get you home, yeah? No need to worry. The Jenkinses will probably let you take a few days off, and the school board can get it removed…”
“Yeah.” I find myself nodding along with her plan. “Good idea.”
She smiles. “I’m full of good ideas.”
We leave and I lift my hood, just in case there are more students in the lobby. I’m not ready to deal with anyone’s comments.
The lash out from the photo was bad. I’m afraid the video is going to be even worse.
Eli has his truck out front, and I practically dive into his backseat. He throws me a glance, eyebrows raised.
“You okay?” he asks.
I force myself to smile, although I think it’s more like a grimace. “Yes.”
I wonder if Caleb knows yet. I doubt he had a chance to check his phone before he ran out of the hotel room. He would’ve told me.
Right?
I spot Caleb’s car in the Jenkins’ driveway as we come up the street.
“Keep going,” I tell Eli. Shock and dread twist through me.
He glances back at me. “What—”
“Keep. Going.” I can’t breathe. I’m automatically expecting the worst. I shouldn’t, because it’s Caleb. The man who reminded me that we were fake married, who reminded me that I loved him as a kid. Who...
Riley twists around. “Is that—”
“Yes. Eli, drop me at the corner.”
He groans. “What are you planning?”
“Nothing.”
He pulls over, and I grab my bag, hopping out before they can advise against it.
“Keep your phone close, Riley. I’ll call you later,” I add.
She nods, and I slam the door. Eli drives away. I cut through the neighbor’s backyard, into the Jenkins’ backyard. I slip into the mudroom, crouching. There’s a door that leads into the kitchen, but I’m betting Caleb might be in there.
Sure enough, as soon as I press my ear to the door, I can hear what they’re saying.
“We appreciate you trying to be candid, Caleb,” Robert says. “But you haven’t quite told us why you’re trying to warn us about Margo.”
“And forgive us for thinking so, but we thought you enjoyed Margo’s company,” Lenora adds.
Warn them about me?
My heart hammers.
“I’m sorry for not being direct,” Caleb says. “It’s just that… I thought her and I were it. And then earlier today, she put out a private video trying to destroy my credibility.”
I cover my mouth with both hands. The bastard thinks I leaked that video? Like the picture, I’m sure he’s going to be lauded for it.
“So this is revenge?” Robert asks.
“Not at all. Honestly, I was going to let sleeping dogs lie. This just proves that she isn’t the girl I thought she was.”
Silence.
“Your daughter…” Caleb pauses. “She died in a car accident, right?”
“That’s right,” Robert answers. His voice is faint.
“My aunt liked to gossip,” Caleb says. “She said the car accident was caused by a drug overdose.”
“We’ve never hid that fact,” Lenora says. “She was troubled. That’s why we foster teenagers, because sometimes they’re troubled—”
“Was it cocaine?”
I wish I could see the expression on Caleb’s face. If he regrets what he’s saying. But I’d bet his face is the picture of innocence, because that’s who he is: a good fucking liar.
“The fact of the matter is… your daughter’s death is Margo’s fault.”
My heart stops.
“What? How?” Lenora demands. “Margo would’ve been twelve when Josie died—”
“Margo was the cause of her mother’s drug use,” Caleb says.
Each word is a dagger in my heart.
“And because of her parents’ split, Amberly had no choice but to resort to selling drugs. Cocaine, specifically. She sold it to anyone who had cash. College kids, high schoolers. She preyed on innocent lives because Margo—”
Lenora wails.
It’s a haunting sound. Chills break out across my body, and I really, really wish that I couldn’t hear it. I’d love nothing more than to scrub that noise from my brain.
“Margo’s mom was responsible for your daughter’s death,” Caleb finishes. “I thought you’d want to know who was sleeping in your home every night.”
I’ve heard enough.
I lift my bag and creep back outside. Hidden on the side of the porch, I pull out the newspaper clipping.
The headline reads: Isabella Jenkins in Fatal Car Crash
Late Saturday night, Isabella Jenkins of Rose Hill, New York, was found in her flipped vehicle. Firefighters and EMTs pulled her out and brought her to a local hospital, but she was dead on arrival. Isabella has had problems with substance abuse, and doctors confirm that this was the cause of her accident. Her parents, Lenora and Robert Jenkins, request privacy during this difficult time.
That’s it.
A paragraph and a picture of the three of them. In fact, it’s the same photo that’s on their wall, the one that caught my attention my first day in their home.
And my mother was the one who put them there.
They’re never going to want me back now, because what Caleb said has to be true: my mom sold drugs to a teenager, and that teenager died. What’re the odds that I’m placed with their family?
It’s a sucker punch straight to my gut.
I heave my bag higher and run through the neighbor’s backyard. I don’t have anywhere to go, but I sure as hell don’t want them to find me snooping around their yard.
Not after that.
I get to the corner and grab my phone. It’s the first time I’ve looked at it since before the dance.
Riley was right: it’s blowing up. There are too many numbers texting me crude things.
I sniffle, but there’s too much shock to cry.
Caleb just...
My heart isn’t working right.
I sink to my knees at the curb as his words replay.
It hurts like a knife burrowing into my chest. I can’t stop it. I can’t fight him.
Let’s play a game, he told me. First to give in loses.
I lost, Caleb. My heart folded first. I thought it might be the kiss, but that… that was just the beginning.
I find a text from Claire from the middle of the night.
Claire: Call me.
And when I didn’t respond, she sent another.
Claire: I realized where I recognized Caleb from. He was talking to our foster parents before they got rid of us.
I shudder. The betrayal digs deeper. This isn’t a new thing for Caleb… he’s done this before. He’s unwound my life, piece by piece.
Has Caleb ever let me out of his memory? Or is he responsible for every single transition, every bully, every fucking family that’s passed me along?
His fucked-up games didn’t start when I got back to Emery-Rose.
No, they started the minute I left.
I get a new text—this one from Unknown. I almost drop my phone. Even they couldn’t have predicted Caleb’s tricks. His betrayal. He’s single-handedly ruined the best home I’ve ever known.
Unknown: Run away, little sheep.
Way ahead of you, Unknown.
END OF BOOK 1
1
Caleb
It’s done.
I expected a weight to lift off my shoulders, like it did every other time I did this. When I went in and systematically destroyed Margo’s world.
The first time, we were twelve, and I took a taxi. I approached her foster mother with a rather twisted view of the truth, then hung around for the fireworks.
I paid the guy to sit there. We waited for Margo to come home from school, only to meet the social worker. Hell, the foster mom had been so disgusted, she didn’t even want to be there.
Margo didn’t cry.
That was disappointing.
She didn’t cry the next time, either.
Each time she carted out her garbage bag full of clothes, she kept her shoulders back. Her chin up. I once sat in Eli’s truck a house down from the foster’s and tried to suck an ounce of gratification out of it.
It became a game. How far can I push until she breaks?
Ruin her in one way, and she might recover. Ruin her every way, and she’ll be dust. Mind, body, and soul.
I began hanging around longer to see if she would lose control. Not close enough for her to see me—I’m not a idiot. I only got to her once, when she was torn away from siblings. Once in seven fucking years.
It felt good to see her cry, but odd, like something cracked inside my chest. Her breaking was breaking me, too. I had let her stay at that home for a while. Two whole years of idyllic bliss while I tried to forget about Margo. Slept with her old friends, immersed myself in lacrosse. But I couldn’t shake her. Senior year was approaching, and it was time for Margo to return home.
The Jenkinses were perfect. It isn’t their fault I had that card up my sleeve. As I told the Jenkinses: they were a common subject of my aunt and her social circle right after the accident. They went to church and prayed for their family, but then they’d come back to my aunt’s house and gossip like schoolgirls about where the drugs could’ve come from.
Was it true? Did Amberly kill their daughter?
Maybe.
Hell if I know.
This isn’t about them—this is about Margo and her resilience.
Will she end up on the street? I doubt it. The Jenkinses are too kindhearted for that. They’d probably forgive her after a few awkward days. And my little lie about her being to blame for the video… I know Margo better than that.
I left, and Lenora was still crying. Robert rubbed her back to console her. I wish they’d waited until after I was gone to do that.
Eli: You schmoozing the Jenkinses? Freaked Sheep out that you were there.
I pause.
Margo saw my car? Did she hear? I’d figured Eli would take his sweet time getting out of there. He was supposed to offer to take them to breakfast or some shit. Give me time to cause some mayhem and leave.
Dickhead.
“Shit.” I slam my hand against the steering wheel.
I dial her number and wait.
It goes to voicemail.
I dial again, just in case.
It must be off, because it barely rings once before it switches over to her breathy voice.
This plan… It was set in stone a while ago. Pulling her down piece by piece. But I’m not ready for her to fall—not yet. I’m not done with her. She can’t break yet.
Seven years ago, she broke me. Now I’m just showing her what she created.
A beast in my chest demands to be free—a beast that only wants Margo’s blood.
I pound my hands on the steering wheel again, in rapid succession.
Slowly, I drop the walls around the demons I keep locked away. It’s nice to let the darkness take over. Fury washes through me, but it’s calm, liquid ice.
Margo Wolfe may have run away, but I’m going to find her and bring her back, even if it kills me.
We’re not done.
Eventually, she’ll shatter for me, and the game will finally be over.
2
Margo
I couldn’t go anywhere I knew he would find me.
Because he would find me.
I have no doubt that, as easily as he hurt the Jenkinses, he would come for me. Something broke him. Something fucked up in our past. For some reason, I can’t fathom what it is. Whether I’ve been lied to, am misremembering things, or blocked it out of my memory…
Finding the truth will set me free.
It tugs at my memory. Something just out of reach.
I ring the doorbell and take a quick step back. A minute passes, then a voice shouts for me to hold on. The door swings open.
Ian Fletcher scowls down at me.
“You said you hated Caleb more than me,” I blurt out. So much for being strategic here, Margo. “Well, now’s your chance.”
He raises his eyebrows. “My chance for what?”
“I hate him, too.”
“And?”
“And…” I look away. God, am I really about to say this? “I’m what he wants. What he’s fixated on. Use me against him.”
We watch each other for a moment.
He could easily slam the door in my face, and I’d be screwed. Nowhere to go.
Instead, he pulls the door open wider.
I slip past him, trying desperately not to think about the last time he and I were alone together. He hurt me—gleefully so. My stomach cramps at the thought.
Is this madness? Probably. But what option do I have against Caleb?
In the end, Caleb hurt me, too. Ian’s wounds have mostly healed, but I doubt Caleb’s betrayal ever will. It burns under my skin like a living thing. A monster slipping along my bones.
The house is nearly silent. We were here for a party once. Empty of people, it feels bigger.
Wasn’t I told that his parents travel? No, that was Eli.
“This way.” He leads me down a side hallway. He slides open a door to an office and enters, throwing himself into the chair behind the desk. “Why should I take you at your word, Sheep?”
I’m numb to it at this point—happily so. “Caleb thinks I’m to blame for the video.”
Ian snorts. “Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I know who took the video.”
My mouth drops open.
He continues, “Did he blame you publicly? Honestly, I doubt anyone would believe it. You make some rather hot noises in it, but I didn’t peg you to be an exhibitionist.”
My face gets hot.
He tuts, leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk. “Why did you come here?”
“I had to go somewhere he wouldn’t find me.” I shrug, trying to keep my voice from trembling. Fuck, he’s intimidating. “And I figured… here was good.”
“After what I did to you.”
I wince. “Especially after that.”
He watches me for a long moment.
“You don’t have a stupid fucking crush on me, do you?”
I snort. “God, that would make things complicated.” I stand. “I’ll go.”
“Sit,” he orders.
I grind my teeth and glare at him. I do not sit. “I’m really sick of people ordering me around.”
I put my bag over my shoulder and find my way back to the front door, ignoring the way his attention stings.
Finally, he calls, “Wait.”
I glance back.
“I have a guest room,” he concedes. “My parents go to Los Angeles for the winter, and they’re already there. They’ll never know.”
“What’s the catch?”
He snickers. “What makes you think there’s a catch?”
“Because your name is Ian Fletcher.” I cross my arms over my chest. “So?”
“I’ll let you stay… for a kiss.” He walks closer, circling around me.
“Why did you kick me in the stomach?”
His eyes light up. “Ah. Do you still have bruises? Can I see?”
“This was a mistake.” I can’t get away from him fast enough. Honestly—what on earth was I thinking?
I try to step around him, but he blocks me. I step around him again, and he follows me down a hallway, into the kitchen. It’s big and cold. There’s a sliding door that leads out onto the porch. I got drunk in this house. It was here that Unknown got that damn video of me.
“Kiss me and you can stay, rent free, for a month. If you aren’t discovered before that.”
He’s standing right behind me, while I’m frozen with my hand on the glass.
“And I’ll tell you who took that video,” he adds.
