The Wicked Trilogy by S. Massery
Caleb
I stalkinto Riley’s house.
There’s a commotion above my head, so I go to the stairs. We came here once—Eli and I—when Riley was piss drunk. That was before Margo arrived at school, and Eli was still the source of Riley’s misery. They’ve since shifted into something else.
Still, the layout isn’t rocket science. It’s hazily familiar. I climb the stairs and stop in front of her bedroom.
The door is locked.
I could pick it if I wanted to—if I had the patience for it. But patience isn’t something I’m known for. Not now, with intoxicating anger flowing through me. I take a step back and kick, smashing her door open.
Eli and Riley are going at it, and she screams when the door flies in.
“Fuck, dude!” Eli yells. He doesn’t even flinch at his nakedness, the arrogant asshole. He just puts his hand on Riley’s shoulder and twists halfway toward me.
I glower at him, then shift my attention to Riley.
She’s desperately trying to cover herself, but my friend is still impaled in her pussy. She couldn’t go anywhere if she tried. I can’t see anything, of course. Just Eli’s white ass and her thigh. And her breasts. But they don’t hold appeal for me.
“Where is Margo?”
Her red face suddenly goes white. “What?”
I lean against the doorframe, trying not to seethe.
“You’re her best friend, Appleton. Where. Is. She?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Can you leave?”
Eli shakes his head. “Margo run away?”
I glare at him.
His gaze moves from me down to Riley, a contemplative look on his face. He rotates his hips, and her eyes flutter closed.
He towers over her. “Tell us where she is.”
“I don’t know, Eli,” she moans. She keeps her eyes closed, but her cheeks are getting red again.
I’ve seen enough.
And, oddly, I believe her.
There are only a few places that Margo would go to avoid me. A few places she would either trust to hide her from me—big mistake—or that she’d think I wouldn’t hunt for her.
Savannah or Amelie, maybe.
Or Ian.
Riley was the obvious choice. I’m almost proud that Margo didn’t run straight here.
Riley’s screams follow me out the front door. I shake my head, grimacing.
My phone rings. I smother a groan, dropping into my car.
“You better be calling to tell me you left town,” I say.
“Hello to you, too,” Margo’s mother says. “I just—”
“If you’re about to ask for a favor, don’t.”
“Caleb, you don’t understand.”
I growl. Amberly is a distraction and a drug addict. She had her uses, but her calling me? Absolutely not.
“Your mom is looking for me,” she whispers.
I freeze. “What?”
“I don’t know what to do. Somehow she got my number—”
“Then change your number.” I stare straight ahead. My mother, Margo’s mother, the fucking Jenkinses. This mess is snowballing.
This wasn’t part of the game.
I hang up on her. Can’t really do anything about Mother, since she’s always been a wild card. Everyone else has a plan, motives, wants, and needs. She’s just crazy.
I try calling Margo again, but it’s still going straight to voicemail. If you had told me two months ago that the girl I had carried a grudge against for seven fucking years would change me, I would’ve punched you in the goddamn face.
She’s under my skin.
My next stop is Theo’s house. As much as I’d love to barge into Amelie’s home, it wouldn’t do me any good. So I’m sending someone who can be a little more persuasive.
Theo and the Page girls have an interesting history. Amelie’s sister goes to Lion’s Head, where Theo and Liam attended school before they transferred here. One might say there’s bad blood between Theo and Lucille Page, but they’d be underexaggerating the truth.
Theo meets me in the driveway, and I hide my smile.
“Margo’s missing,” I tell him.
He raises an eyebrow.
“She might be at the Page house.”
He snorts. “She might decide to hide in a bed of vipers, too.”
“You want to go find out or what?” I snap.
Time tugs on my skin. It’s odd to feel utterly helpless. Every bone in my body needs to know where Margo is. She can’t run away. She isn’t in control. I am.
“Where are you going?”
“Dunley’s, then Fletcher.” I shake my head. “Maybe Ian’s first. The fucker deserves to be hit.”
Theo’s eyes darken. “And the video?”
“Apparently it came from Savannah.”
“Another reason to visit her first.”
I sigh. Savannah and Amelie were Margo’s best friends. They’re causing more trouble than they’re worth at this point. But unfortunately, we don’t live in a society where I can just bury them in the backyard.
“Your uncle is going to be pissed.” Theo crosses his arms.
“I’m giving you a shot at Page, and you’re still flapping your lips.”
His chuckle follows me back to my car. Fuck him. He’ll help, but he’ll do it in his own time. And maybe he’s right: I should clean up the video. It spread faster than I anticipated, and Savannah’s phone was just the catalyst. I know she didn’t record it.
I dial a number I memorized a long time ago.
“Yes?”
“Do you have a death wish?” I ask.
They swallow.
“Get rid of it.”
“What?”
“Get rid of the fucking video—get it off every phone, every server, or so help me God, I will ruin your life.”
Silence.
Then, “You didn’t like the angle?”
I growl.
“Fine. Consider it done,” they say.
I know Margo isn’t with Savannah. Maybe she would’ve gone there if Sav wasn’t so hurt by my using her. No, she’d do anything to get back in my good graces—including tell me if Margo showed up.
That leaves one option.
I crack my neck. This is going to feel good.
Next stop: Ian Fletcher’s house.
