by S. Massery
Wicked Promises
Fallen Royals, #3
S. Massery
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by S. Massery
All rights reserved.
Editing by Studio ENP
Proofreading by Paige Sayer Proofreading
Cover Design by S. Massery
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To You.
Yes, you. The one reading this.
Thank you.
Contents
Also by S. Massery
Author’s Note
Blurb
UNKNOWN
1. Margo
2. Caleb
3. Margo
4. Caleb
5. Margo
6. Caleb
7. Margo
8. Caleb
9. Unknown
10. Margo
11. Caleb
12. Caleb
13. Margo
14. Caleb
15. Margo
16. Margo
17. Unknown
18. Caleb
19. Margo
20. Caleb
21. Margo
22. Caleb
23. Margo
24. Unknown
25. Margo
26. Caleb
27. Margo
28. Caleb
29. Margo
30. Caleb
31. Margo
32. Caleb
33. Margo
34. Caleb
35. Margo
36. Caleb
37. Margo
38. Caleb
39. Margo
Five Months Later
Also by S. Massery
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by S. Massery
Fallen Royals Series
Wicked Dreams
Wicked Games
Wicked Promises
Vicious Desire (Eli, coming 2020)
Wild Fury (Theo, coming 2021)
Cruel Abandon (Liam, coming 2021)
In Dark Matrimony
a dark mafia / arranged marriage anthology releasing November 10
Broken Mercenaries Series
Blood Sky
Angel of Death
Morning Star
Contemporary Romance
Something Special
Something Sacred
For more information, please visit my website,
http://www.smassery.com/books
Author’s Note
WARNING: this book has dubious consent and situations. Our anti-hero behaves questionably at times. Pretty much all the time, if we’re being completely honest. He’s no white knight, and he’s definitely not the good guy.
If that sort of thing bothers you, I’d suggest passing on this story. If I’ve intrigued you… carry on.
Wicked Promises is the final book of a trilogy and not a standalone.
Fallen Royals Series:
Wicked Dreams
Wicked Games
Wicked Promises
Vicious Desire (Eli)
Wild Fury (Theo)
Cruel Abandon (Liam)
Don’t forget to sign up for S. Massery’s newsletter for news about future releases.
Blurb
I made a promise to Caleb, and I intended to keep it.
I just didn’t anticipate the aftermath.
One betrayal.
One lie.
One devastating cover-up.
It’s all out in the open now, and this time, I’m not running away.
The secrets I hold are enough to destroy us.
The truth is supposed to set us free—but we aren’t destined for freedom.
UNKNOWN
I wish I could say this was only ever about you, Margo. But it wasn’t.
There were so many other moving pieces. You, Caleb, your families. I sometimes want to laugh at the complexity of the situation I found myself in. How could I have known the hornet’s nest I was walking into? The agony you brought on Caleb’s family?
The luck of the draw.
A single spark of luck put us together.
You and me, for all eternity.
We’re bound together. And now that I have you…
Pain is inevitable.
And so is your downfall.
1
Margo
Something cool touches my cheek.
I pull away, and my entire body bursts into flames.
Pain, not flames.
My face is hot.
“Come on, Margo, I know you’re back.”
Back? Back where?
“Wake up, Margo.”
Am I sleeping?
I can’t open my eyes. I can’t move. It’s just pain everywhere, little rockets sizzling under my skin and across my brain. The headache is extreme.
Where am I?
Another cool thing on my cheek.
“Jesus, did you try to kill her?” A new voice. Lighter.
Someone I know? Their name is on the tip of my tongue.
“I couldn’t really control it once I hit them,” the first one says.
“She’s bleeding.” A sigh. Someone moves my head. A groan fills the air.
My heartbeat echoes in my ears, drowning out the voice for a moment.
“…hospital. You don’t have a choice.”
Maybe I’m dead.
“Up you go, Margo.”
I’m lifted, swung into arms. My head falls back.
My eyes open in slits. It’s blinding.
Old slatted wood. Sunlight peeking through. Cold air. A high ceiling, rafters with cobwebs and hay.
I can’t be dead.
“You aren’t dead. You’re not going to die. That’s not the plan.”
Someone has a plan? I used to be a planner. I thought I knew what was going to happen to me. I thought I could control it. And then…
“Don’t fucking talk to her.”
“I’m sorry,” the first voice says. “God, I’m sorry.”
Something covers my nose and mouth. A cloth. The fabric is soft, but my body bucks against it. My lungs burn. I wrap my hand around the person’s wrist and hold on for dear life.
But wait. I think…
I can’t breathe. I need to breathe.
I snap my eyes fully open, locking them onto the face of the person carrying me.
It’s too late to do anything else. I gasp, inhale the chemicals.
Hands reach up out of the darkness, dragging me back down.
I go. Anywhere is better than here.
Caleb
A balled-up sock hits me in the face.
I jerk and glare at Eli. “What was that for?”
“You were zoning out,” he says.
One thing we can’t get away with in the Black household is laundry duty. Everything else is taken care of except this one task. It’s soothing, the warm fabric sliding through my hands. But it also invoked memories.
Packing clothes. Being shipped off to Uncle’s house.
Mom leaving.
Eli and I stand on opposite sid
es of the dining table with our own piles of clean clothes. The faster we fold, the sooner we’ll be done. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
“Just think how prepared you’ll be for when you live on your own,” Eli’s mom often told us. “We’re getting you ready for adulthood.”
But I can’t concentrate, because Margo is with her dad. She’ll find out the real truth. The ugliness we’ve been hiding.
Her dad killed mine. Snuffed his life out—
“Dude.”
I grimace.
The doorbell rings just as my phone goes off. I glance at Eli. It’s a blocked number.
He waves me off, unaware of the sudden spike in my blood pressure, and heads to the door.
I’m being ridiculous. A blocked number isn’t Unknown, Margo’s harasser. Stalker. No, it’s probably a telemarketer or a scam.
“What?” I bark into the phone.
“Hello, Caleb,” a robotic voice says. It sounds like an automated voice reading a line of text. “I’ve greatly anticipated speaking with you.”
I stare at the floor and don’t answer. They want to hear my voice? No way.
“They’re going to ask you about Margo.”
“What?”
The line fills with breathing. It doesn’t make sense in contrast to the automated tone. “When they ask, just remember: anything you say will be held against you.”
“What happened to Margo?” My heart beats faster. Worry takes over.
“Don’t worry, Caleb. You got your wish.”
I fight back the growl. “What the fuck did I wish for?”
Pause. “For the foster parents to be… removed from the situation.”
Mrs. Black walks into the kitchen. “Caleb, hang up the phone.”
Happily. I hit the end button and toss my phone onto my folded clothes.
Game face.
“The police are here,” she says to me in a low voice. “They wanted to talk to you… Who was on the phone? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shake off the bad feeling. “No one important.”
She shrugs. “Come along, then. I’ve called Josh.”
Mr. Black is a defense lawyer. If she’s called him…
“Am I in trouble?”
Worry flits across her face, but it’s gone before I can latch on to it. “Have you done something we need to worry about? I can insist we wait—”
“I haven’t done anything.”
She nods, smoothing out my shirt. She’s been more my parent than my family ever was. Taking a deep breath, she turns and leads me into the living room.
“Caleb, this is Detective Masters.” She gestures for us to sit. “Since Caleb is still a minor…”
“Of course.” The detective is an older guy. Bald. He seems like he could eat nails for breakfast. “Caleb, I just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
I lift one shoulder
“Have you been home all day?”
My eyebrow jumps. It isn’t every day the police come asking for an alibi. “Yep, Eli and I have been doing laundry and playing games.”
He clears his throat, glancing at a little notepad in his palm. “And when’s the last time you saw Margo Wolfe?”
My stomach twists. “Did something happen to her?”
He waits.
“I saw her this morning. She went home, and I stayed here.”
“And as far as you know, what were her plans today?”
I glance at Mrs. Black. “She had plans to see her father.”
“Her father, who happened to be in jail on murder charges—”
“He pled out to voluntary manslaughter, Detective,” Mrs. Black says in a low voice. “And this line of questioning seems rather extreme. Are you insinuating something happened to Margo?”
Detective Masters leans back, his eyebrow twitching.
Smug asshole.
“I’m not insinuating anything, Norah. Margo is missing.”
I bolt to my feet. “Missing?”
“Her foster father was found at the scene of a car accident. She was not in or around the vehicle.” He stands as well. “From the condition of the car, she was badly hurt when they pulled her out of the wreck.”
“And you’re here?” I snap. “Questioning me when you should be—I don’t know, out there searching for—”
“Caleb,” Mrs. Black says, putting her hand on my arm.
I jerk away from her.
“No. No, this is bullshit. You say she’s missing, but what you really mean is someone took her.” I narrow my eyes at the detective. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Has anyone been paying too much attention to Margo?” the detective asks. “Besides you. Her foster mother was unable to confirm anything, but I suspect Margo would’ve been more open to talking with friends.”
Fucking Unknown.
I’m no closer to figuring out who they are, but I’d bet I can find her faster than the Rose Hill Police Department.
Who knows how much manpower they have on a foster kid who’s been in the system forever? Who was once marked as a runaway? The detective is looking down his nose at her, even though he saw where the Jenkinses live. What kind of company Margo keeps.
He needs to leave.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Nothing jumps out.”
He pauses, then nods. “All right. We’ll be in touch. Stay in town, hear me?”
I lift my chin.
Eli’s mom shows him to the door, and I beeline for my room. I shove my shoes on, lacing them tightly, and grab my jacket.
Eli intercepts me at the top of the stairs.
“Dude.”
“Get out of my way,” I snarl.
“He’s still out there, you jackass,” Eli says. “What do you think, he’s just going to tell you Margo’s missing and then drive away?”
I should’ve assumed he was eavesdropping.
“I know—” I grimace. “I don’t know who has her. But I kind of know.”
He rears back. “What?”
“It’s complicated.” Panic grips my throat. I tug at my hair. “Listen, we don’t have time for this. I lost her once. I will not let someone else take her from me.”
Eli stares at me for a moment, then he grins. “I’m in.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“I’m in. And don’t worry about the detective—just meet me around the block in five.” He shoots me a look, snatching my keys out of my hand and tossing them over my shoulder. “You’re not even supposed to be driving, anyway.”
He spins around, leaving me standing there.
With Eli… a little bit of hope comes back. We can find Margo.
I’m not ten years old, pushed along by my family’s current. I can make my own choices. And I will bring her home.
Past
Margo. Margo. Where did she go?
Mom grabbed me, and my eyes flew open. I knew it was her before I was even aware, because she always smelled like roses and baby powder.
“Caleb,” she said. “Wake up.”
I was already staring at her. Her order came a few seconds too late.
I didn’t bother pointing it out to her. She moved away, to the foot of my bed. Her glare cut through my misery. Through me.
“Why did they take her away?”
“Her father—” Mom pressed her lips together. “After what that man did to our family, you still want to see her?”
I sat up. “She didn’t do anything.”
Mom laughed. I flinched at the sudden loudness of it in my room. It was dark, practically the middle of the night. No moonlight came in through my windows. There wasn’t even a breeze to cool my skin.
I was hot. Burning impossibly bright.
“She didn’t do anything?” Mom parroted. She turned on my overhead light.
Again, I was the only one who flinched. She was being mean. Grief made people do crazy things. And by grief I mean…
“Do you even care that your father is de
ad?”
Long live the king.
I’d been repeating that since the day he died. Why? Because he was still here, haunting the house. Lurking. His memory was pungent enough to suffocate a bear, and Mom just wouldn’t let it go.
I wanted Margo. Plain and simple.
Mom huffed at my silence. “Get up.”
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s two in the morning.”
“Get up Caleb Asher, or so help me—”
“Okay, okay.” I threw back the blankets and stood, keeping my attention half on her while I found my jeans and a clean shirt.
“Pack a bag.”
“What?”
“Pack a bag, Caleb,” she snapped. “Why do I have to ask you to do something twice?” To herself, she added, “He’ll learn.”
I shuddered but did as she’d asked. I threw clothes in a backpack. She disappeared, then returned with my toothbrush and a few other toiletries. She steered me down the stairs. Her grip was forceful.
Her bag was packed, too. A suitcase sat by the door.
“Where are we going?”
She gave me a brittle smile. “Away from this house.”
I cast a look around. “For how long?”
She shook her head. “Forever, as far as I’m concerned. The will reading is tomorrow, and I doubt your father left the house to me. Everything was locked up tightly in a trust.” She laughed. “How ironic.”
