Wicked Promises: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Fallen Royals Book 3)

by S. Massery

  The last line is underlined three times, and it seems like she wrote over each sentence three times.

  “Lydia wrote this?”

  Riley shrugs. “It sounds weird, right?”

  I go back to the beginning, turning the pages slower.

  “Wait…” The car slows as we come up to a red light, and I show her the page. “Does this handwriting look different?”

  “What do the earlier ones sound like?”

  I open to a page dated mid-2010 and read, “‘Ben was not happy with my admission. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t have a choice over my body and what I choose to do with it. I fear our marriage won’t overcome this.’” I squint at the page. “She moves on to talking about some art project Caleb brought home from school.”

  “So, they didn’t have the happiest of marriages.”

  I scan the pages, finally finding one from July. “Okay. Oh god.”

  “Read it!”

  I clear my throat. “‘It had to happen. My poor baby. It was easy enough to hide from the kids, but Ben… I fear he’s never going to look at me the same. I know he’s taken a lover to get back at me. The betrayal stings. I thought he would be better than this.’”

  “Shit,” Riley says.

  We’re both quiet for a moment.

  Then she asks, “What do you think she means by that? What had to happen?”

  “Something she hid from me and Caleb,” I guess. “Which could be anything.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  I grab her arm. “Park around the corner. Just in case.”

  “Roger that.” She glances at me. “Should we call someone?”

  “Like the police?”

  “Well… yeah.”

  I bite my lip. She parks near the diner, and we both hop out. I draw my jacket closer around me. The wind is fierce downtown, funneled between taller buildings.

  “We don’t know if anything is wrong,” I eventually say. “Unknown—Claire—has been targeting me this whole time. Why suddenly take Caleb?”

  “Classic villain move,” she murmurs. “He’s the bait.”

  We get to the first window of the diner, and I hold her back. Carefully, I push up on my tiptoes and peek inside.

  I don’t see Caleb, but Claire is pacing up and down the main aisle. I crane even farther. Maybe he’s sitting in the short row of booths, just out of my sight.

  Claire turns toward the window, and I duck.

  “Did she see you?” Riley hisses.

  “I don’t think so. I couldn’t see Caleb, either.” I steer Riley back around the corner, to safety. “There’s always a back entrance, right? For safety?”

  She stares at me. “You’re not seriously—”

  “She has Caleb.” I’m firm but also shaking. My hands tremble. “And if she does anything to him… Yeah, absolutely not. I can’t just sit out here.”

  “Fine.” She pulls out her phone. “I’ll call them.”

  “Good idea. May as well tell Eli’s dad, too. I have a feeling at least one of us is going to need a lawyer.”

  She groans, but I ignore it. I jog around to the alley and slip into it. The street is deserted, which is the weirdest part. Not a single car has passed us. Then again, this area of town is run-down. Old and tired. The corner of the brick building is chipped and crumbling, and the alley is gross.

  I stop in front of a large metal door. Someone put a Lucky’s sticker on it. A big leprechaun with a green hat, the name of the diner in thick yellow script, and it’s skewed to the left.

  The door very well may be locked.

  Claire could have Caleb at knifepoint or something.

  Taking a deep breath, I twist the door handle. It opens easily, and I pause.

  Listen.

  I can’t hear anything.

  Here goes nothing.

  I slip in through the back door, careful to shut it soundlessly behind me. I creep through the kitchen and realize that everything in me has gone quiet. My hands aren’t shaking, my heart has slowed.

  The sound of sirens is faint, but it raises goosebumps along my arms.

  I duck down next to the fridge when Claire appears in the window.

  “Get over here,” she snaps. “Who the hell called the police?”

  “Oh, maybe anyone who walked by and saw you waving a gun around,” Caleb answers. “Not your brightest move.”

  Holy shit. Grateful for that piece of information, but also—where the fuck did Claire get a gun? I wouldn’t know the first place to look for one, or how to use it.

  She pivots. “What was my brightest move?”

  “Hmm… probably using my mother the way you did. I can only assume you pushed her into this.”

  “Me?” She laughs. “I was elated when I discovered whose house we were going to. David and Iris Asher. They have pictures of the family on the wall, you know. David caught me staring at your photo one day and asked if I knew you. The whole story just poured out—”

  “Whole story? What, that you saw me once, a few weeks prior?”

  My heart goes into my throat.

  What am I doing, just crouching here? I came in to make a difference. To save Caleb from the evil bitch I thought was my foster sister.

  “Claire,” I call, rising. I shove through the swinging doors. “Don’t shoot me.”

  She’s behind the counter, just where I thought. And Caleb, between us, is on the floor. He leans against the wall, his wrists duct taped.

  His eyebrows go up, but other than that, his face stays blank.

  I hate that she’s made him put the mask back up.

  “Well, well, well.” She sounds like she’s quoting a bad movie. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  “Apt analogy, since apparently you like to think of me as a bird.”

  She grins. “I knew you’d understand.”

  “You wrote about it,” I continue. “Where you thought we wouldn’t find it.”

  Her expression drops. “You went in my room?”

  Always so possessive.

  Any feeling of sisterly love I was holding on to drains away. Claire will kill us all if she’s allowed to continue.

  “I did. Found your newspaper shrine, the picture…”

  Am I purposefully instigating her?

  Yep. Anything to get her away from Caleb.

  She stalks toward me, shoving the gun into my chest. “Sit down.”

  Cold fear pulses through me for the first time. There’s a look in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. It makes me think she’s been dreaming about this moment for a long time.

  I start to sit next to Caleb, and she screams, lashing out. She shoves me away, still shrieking.

  “You don’t get it! He’s not yours anymore!”

  I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

  Her head lifts. The sirens are getting louder—not just coincidence anymore. They’re screaming toward us.

  Her eyes fill with tears, and she crouches next to Caleb. “Did you call the cops on me, Margo? Afraid I might hurt your precious boyfriend?”

  “I didn’t call the police.”

  She clicks her tongue. “Change of plan. Up. Into the kitchen.”

  I rise from my half-crouch, risking a glance at Caleb. His eyes are on me.

  Claire shoves me into the kitchen, seeming unconcerned about Caleb behind her. She presses the gun into my spine, and I leap forward, getting away from her.

  “What started this?” I ask, glancing back at her.

  She just scoffs. “You started this.”

  “How on earth?”

  “Come along, Caleb, or I’ll shoot Margo in the spine. Probably won’t kill her, but she’ll sure as hell never walk again.”

  He growls behind us. “This isn’t the way to do things.”

  “Just get in here,” she snaps. She grabs my shoulder, pulling me back against her.

  I grit my teeth, seriously regretting my decision.

  “Sit down next to the stove,” she o
rders him.

  He slips past us and lowers himself to the floor. He’d probably do anything to protect me—including listening to whatever she said. Fuck. Maybe he has this handled.

  Maybe Claire is going to kill us both.

  “This wasn’t all you,” I try. “Right? You had help.”

  She sighs. Her breath hits the back of my neck. “Six months ago, I was just a girl with a crush on someone I’d never even met. The way you talked about him when you were kids…”

  She leaves me standing in the middle of the galley and crouches next to Caleb. He doesn’t move as she runs the tip of the gun down his temple.

  “Stop touching him,” I snap.

  Caleb’s jaw tics.

  “You’re not in charge here,” she says. She trades the gun for her finger, sliding it down his jaw. “Is she, Caleb? Tell her she’s not in charge. I’m the one with the power.”

  “Power. Is that what you think Caleb is going to give you?” I shake my head, balling my hands into fists.

  I could just charge at her. But then she’d probably shoot me, or maybe Caleb.

  I run my hands up and down my thighs, and freeze when my palm hits the clip of the knife Liam gave me.

  Shit.

  We’re lucky she didn’t see it. Didn’t pat me down and freak out.

  Slowly, I pull it out and slip it into my jacket pocket.

  And meanwhile, Caleb’s eyes are tracking my every movement. Claire… her nose is in his hair.

  She stands and laughs. “Power, you said? Hmm, what an interesting idea.”

  “What, then?”

  The gun is loose in her grip, and she waves it around as she looks between Caleb and me. “I was a girl with a crush, and then he became someone real. He came to our house to destroy us—but he only destroyed me. Look at you. You’re fine. A rich family that gives a shit—”

  “And how did he destroy you?”

  “Bet he didn’t expect Cindy and Jeff to kick all of us out. Hanna and you got good deals. Families. And me…”

  “You live with Caleb’s aunt and uncle,” I blurt out. “With your sister. How—”

  “She is not my sister!” Claire shrieks. “She belongs with them.”

  I tilt my head. “You read Lydia’s journals? That’s why you started writing in them. Because you’d read about—”

  My poor baby.

  Twelve years ago, Lydia did something so awful, Ben wrote her out of his will. Something awful that she hid from us. And in revenge…

  “Is Hanna Caleb’s half sister?”

  Claire’s lips twist. So she came to the same conclusion I did, but she has no relation to the Ashers. Not through Ben. And that’s not how custody works, anyway. You don’t drop off a kid with her mother’s deceased husband’s brother.

  “David and Lydia?”

  “What?” Caleb chokes out.

  Claire laughs. Tips her head back and lets it pour out of her. “Isn’t it ironic that you got Caleb’s dad killed for sleeping with your mom, and meanwhile, Caleb’s mom was fucking his brother?”

  “More like fucked up,” I whisper.

  Caleb shakes his head, faster to process than me. “Where do you come into play, Claire?”

  “My parents adopted Hanna,” she says quietly, hopping up onto one of the counters. “Apparently my birth caused some complications in the form of a full hysterectomy, and Mom wasn’t ready to be done. Hanna never knew. One minute we were a family, and the next, they were carrying in a newborn.”

  “Does she know now?” I ask.

  “I’m sure.” She laughs. “We went to a group home, and some man came in to meet us. They DNA tested her. Came back soon after, said she was coming with him.”

  “She made them take you, too.” Caleb scoffs. “Of course. She’s nice and you’re…”

  “Not,” Claire finishes. She grins. “We complete each other’s sentences.”

  I bite my tongue so I don’t say something I’ll regret.

  The phone on the wall rings, and all three of us jump.

  She stares at it. “They’re closed. Why is it ringing?”

  “It’s probably for you,” Caleb points out. “You know, to negotiate.”

  Her eyes light up. “Margo, answer it.”

  I approach it slowly, like it’s going to attack me. “Hello?”

  “Claire Evans, this is the Beacon Hill Police Department. My name is—”

  “Um, this is Margo.” I lick my lips. “She made me answer the phone.”

  “Margo—”

  “Ms. Wolfe,” Detective Masters says, seemingly taking over the phone call. “You weren’t supposed to go in there.”

  “She needed someone to talk to.” I glance at Claire.

  She waves the gun at me. “What do they want?”

  “Can you tell us if anyone is hurt?” Masters asks.

  “No. Caleb and I are okay.”

  “We just want to resolve this peacefully.”

  “What is he saying?” Claire snaps.

  My temper is fraying. “If you wanted to know, you should’ve answered the damn phone.”

  She comes over and snatches it, shoving me away. In the years we lived together, she never laid a hand on me. Now it’s twice.

  I go to Caleb, immediately ripping at the tape on his wrists. It’s useless. She wound it around so thick, I’d need scissors to break through it.

  “You okay?” He leans his forehead to mine. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

  “Don’t.” I glare at him. “If something happened to you—”

  His taped hands come up and grab the front of my shirt, hauling me to him.

  He slams his lips against mine, fast and furious.

  When he pulls away a second later, I narrow my eyes. “That better not have been your way of saying—”

  “Margo,” Claire says.

  Caleb’s grip slips from my shirt, and I straighten.

  I raise my eyebrow. The phone is back on the wall, and she saunters toward us. My attention goes to the gun, which she’s slowly raising in my direction.

  “Step away from Caleb,” she orders. “He isn’t yours anymore.”

  “Like hell,” I mutter.

  She slaps me.

  My head whips to the side, pain exploding across my cheek and jaw. She just hit me.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” she says. “Maybe I just should and get it over with.”

  She cocks the safety, and my heart stops.

  And then Caleb is between us. His closeness forces me to step back, and we keep going until my hip hits one of the counters.

  “Always the freaking knight in shining armor,” Claire says. “Saving her again?”

  “Saving you,” he answers. “How do you expect to walk out of here if you shoot either of us?”

  Her eyes round.

  “Besides, we were having a conversation. Remember?” He rolls his shoulders. “How did they know Hanna was my mom’s kid?”

  Claire purses her lips. “I don’t know.”

  He takes a step forward. “You’re smarter than most. You didn’t figure it out?”

  She lifts her chin. “Lydia had kept papers of the adoption contract. Once the Ashers discovered them… It was just a matter of time before they took her back.”

  Dirty little sneak.

  “And then I found her diary, and it was painfully obvious what had happened.” She hops back up on the counter. “She documented all of it.”

  Caleb glances back at me, raising his eyebrow.

  He’s asking, Did you find that?

  I barely lower my chin. The most silent yes I can manage.

  “Then what, Claire?”

  I admit, I want to know, too. I try not to show it—leaning backward and crossing my arms instead of leaning in. His hands are still bound in front of him, but somehow he portrays sincere so much better than me.

  My wrists itch just thinking about the duct tape residue, and I dig my nails into my palms.

&nb
sp; “Then…” She shrugs, smiling.

  I’ve seen that face before. Devious, cunning Claire, who used to lie through her teeth when it suited her. How many times had Hanna and I covered for her when she snuck out? She’d serenely tell our foster parents that she was just in the bathroom when they checked, then laugh behind their backs.

  My stomach twists.

  “Did you blackmail her?” I ask.

  Her gaze hardens. “Blackmail? I just told her what I knew. It was her idea to break you apart. After the scheme your mom and her tried went wrong—” Her lips press together. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

  “Our moms were planning something?” Caleb takes another step toward Claire.

  She lifts one shoulder. “I don’t remember.”

  Slowly, I pull the journal out of my pocket. “Would this help you remember?”

  She pushes off one of the counters. “Give that to me.”

  The phone on the wall rings.

  “Shut up!” she screams at it. “I just need some freaking quiet!”

  I shrink away from her, snatching at the back of Caleb’s shirt. He shouldn’t stand so close to a lunatic. I tug, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Have Margo answer it,” Caleb suggests.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  “Trust me,” he replies through his teeth.

  I do. There was once a time when I would’ve said I didn’t, but that seems far in the past.

  Claire grabs at her hair. The gun is abandoned on the counter behind her, and it’s all I can focus on.

  “Margo, do it,” she snaps.

  I slip past Caleb. I could go around Claire, down a different aisle—and put the kitchen’s center countertop between us—or… I walk toward her. My heart hammers, and I keep my eyes wide.

  Looking fearful—of Claire, and also what I’m about to do—isn’t an act.

  She moves to the side.

  The phone keeps ringing and ringing.

  Two feet away, then one. She groans, her hands releasing her hair and sliding down her face.

  This is your moment, a voice in my head whispers.

  It’s a combination of Dad and Caleb. Liam and Riley and Robert and Lenora.

  I throw myself sideways, into Claire. We topple, but I grasp the counter to keep from going down.

  She shrieks as she falls, her fingers sliding against the smooth material of my jacket. She locks on to my wrist and yanks me down with her.