Page 108 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

I shove her off me. She tumbles to the floor, landing in a curled position.

“There’s no fucking but!” I roar. “You’re endangering everything by being here.”

I dig my toe into her ribs, flipping her flat on her back.

She stares up at me. Her mouth opens and closes. She’s in shock—or succumbing to the coke she probably shot into her veins. The tears spill out again, flooding down her temples and into her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I just…”

I shove her sweater sleeve up, just to prove to myself that she’s still the drug addict I remember. The track marks are dark, angry red. Infected, probably from dirty needles.

My skin crawls.

The kids at school call Margo a coke-whore’s daughter. And they’re right: Amberly Wolfe has taken another lover. And there’s nothing more alluring to her than her drug of choice.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I pull out my wallet, dropping money onto her chest. “You’re going to go anywhere but here. Upstate. Down south. Who the fuck cares. And if I hear that you step back in Rose Hill, you’re done. I’ll kill you myself.”

She shudders.

“Leave tonight, Amberly.”

She grabs my boot as I walk past her. “Please. I got a call—”

I shake her loose, my lip curling. I pause with my hand on the knob and drain my beer, dropping the empty bottle on the floor. It tastes like piss water.

Figures.

I slam the door behind me, hoping that Amberly got my message.

But… part of me hopes she’s stubborn like her daughter. I would love to teach her a lesson. It’s one both Wolfe women need to learn.

26

Intervention time.

Or… something like that. Maybe it isn’t an intervention, but the way Lenora and Robert are staring at me, it sure feels like something momentous—and catastrophic—is going to happen.

The only sound is the clock ticking on the wall behind Robert’s head.

We chose to sit at the dining room table, Robert at the head and Lenora and me on either side of him. And they’re just… waiting for something.

Finally, Robert clears his throat. “How are you doing, honey?”

“Doing? Like…”

“In general,” Lenora supplies. “Or specifically, if you want.”

“I’m good.” I shrug, forcing a smile at both of them. “I mean, I’m sorry for the other night. When I got drunk.”

The late-morning sun streams in through the window behind me, warming my back. Caleb successfully snuck out through the window, and I made an appearance for movie night. It was nice. No talking. Just sword fights and British accents.

When I woke up, I was filled with inexplicable trepidation. I could barely move.

My body hurt. I discovered a trail of hickies and bruises on my neck, down my chest. I pressed my thumb into one, and pain hit deep. But it wasn’t bad. It was the kind of pain that made me want to keep pushing on it.

And then I remembered the chat we’re supposed to have.

So here we are, food in front of us that I’m too nervous to eat.