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

Page 25

by S. Massery


  Forget the gun.

  I fall on top of her. My elbow digs into her stomach, and she lets out an oof.

  But that can’t just be the end of it. She’s a fighter.

  She grips my hair, yanking my head back, and we flip. My scalp stings at the pressure.

  I flail. My elbow vibrates all the way down to my fingers when I make contact with bone—shoulder or head, I can’t tell. She punches me, her fist skating across my jaw. My cheek cuts into my teeth, and blood fills my mouth.

  I scramble to my knees and dive for her, pinning her arms above her head. Once I’ve straddled her, I lean to one side and spit out blood.

  “Let go of me, you freak!” She thrashes. “You’re ruining everything! You’re dead, you hear me?”

  “I’ve had enough of your bullshit,” I answer. Just like with Matt, I cock my fist back and let it fly. I’m readier for the pain that skitters across my knuckles.

  Her head snaps to the side.

  We never fought when we lived together, but she sure did know how to get on my nerves.

  This was a long time coming.

  Caleb grabs me under the arms, hauling me up and away. “That was hot.”

  I glance at him. His arms are free. He pulls the rest of the tape off, his eyes on me. I turn to Claire, who is slowly climbing to her feet.

  “You’re going to pay for that.” She wipes blood off her mouth with the back of her hand, then looks around.

  I find the gun at the same time she does, and we both go for it.

  Her fingers graze the barrel, but I’m faster.

  I yank it away and swing around. She stops dead when I level it at her chest. My thumb flicks the safety off.

  “Just try me,” I warn. “You’ve been harassing me for months. You put a dead bird in my room. Where did that even come from? Pretty bird?”

  She stares at me. It would appear that she’s unafraid of the gun. “You don’t remember?”

  I stay silent.

  She tips her head back and laughs. “Oh, the irony. The answer is in your hand. In your past, too. And I couldn’t resist—it was so much fun ruffling your feathers.”

  Caleb grimaces. “You weren’t at Emery-Rose. How did you get that inside knowledge?”

  Claire grins. “Amelie was more than happy to assist.”

  “I doubt that,” I say.

  “You’re right,” she answers. “She was more than happy to assist after I blackmailed her.”

  “With what?” I glance from Claire to Caleb, hoping to unspin the mysteries. My head is starting to hurt with all the new information, but… adrenaline keeps my focus on the present.

  Claire shrugs. “I can’t give away all my secrets. What’s to stop them from bursting in here?” She rubs at her eyes. “You’re the one with the gun in your hand. Are you going to shoot me, Margo?”

  “I might,” I whisper. “You’d deserve it.”

  “I’ll go away for whatever crimes they can pin on me, but I didn’t do anything bad.”

  “You kidnapped me!” Left me for dead in an abandoned barn.

  I could do it.

  I could shoot her.

  All I would have to do is pull the trigger.

  My vision tunnels onto Claire. She appears innocent, but she’s not. She’s going to walk out of the interrogation room and hurt someone.

  “You don’t feel anything, do you?” I ask her.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She pinches at her skin of her arm, twisting it. “Do you think I feel pain? You could find out. Watch me scream. Come on, Margo, it’s easy. I know you’re thinking about it.”

  I readjust my grip on the gun. I’ve never hurt anyone, but she’s under my skin. Pulling me down with her.

  It’s easy to let her manipulate the situation. To get drunk on control. I’m the one with the power.

  “Am I still in a cage, Claire?”

  Caleb touches my arm. He’s such a presence at my side, my whole body hums with awareness.

  “Come back to me,” he whispers.

  I shudder. My eyes are fastened on Claire, but she’s slowly backing away. Her face is pale, and she… she looks young.

  So much younger than she did a moment ago, when our lives were in her hands.

  He slides between us, taking the gun out of my hands and setting it on the counter. I let him. It slips out of my fingers easily, and I exhale once I’m free of it.

  He tips my chin up, inspecting my face.

  Claire isn’t a threat anymore. Somehow the tide shifted when we fought, and she’s retreating.

  I stare up into Caleb’s light-blue eyes, wondering when I’ll come back to myself.

  The back door flies open. It crashes into the wall.

  He wraps his arms around me, pulling me down.

  Someone screams, and the police flood in. We stay crouched together as they sweep the area.

  They’re a river of dark-blue jackets and weapons.

  “Mr. Asher and Ms. Wolfe,” a familiar voice says.

  I meet Detective Masters’ eyes.

  “You’re safe.” He offers his hand.

  I let him help me up. Caleb rises with me, keeping one hand on my hip.

  The detective’s attention goes to Caleb’s wrists. He points out the obvious: “Duct tape.”

  “Claire bound me,” Caleb says. “It’s a long story.”

  “No doubt. Josh is waiting for you both outside, as are your foster parents, Margo.” He lifts his chin toward the door into the main diner. “Let’s go out the front.”

  “That’s it?” I ask. I can’t help it. “It’s over?”

  “Claire tried to run. She’s in custody. We have some questions for her, and then… we’ll figure out where she goes from there.”

  “She said she didn’t act alone,” I blurt out, stopping. The journal is back in my pocket, safely tucked away. What kind of evidence will it actually be? Anyone could’ve written in it.

  I can see Robert and Lenora huddled together by an ambulance, and my stomach twists.

  I continue, “There are things you don’t know. Big-picture things.”

  Masters nods. “There’s a time to figure all that out, okay? Right now, I’d like to see a happy reunion. Don’t want to keep them waiting, right?”

  Caleb laces his fingers with mine, squeezing my hand.

  Masters walks out the front door, holding it open for us, but Caleb keeps me back.

  “Whatever dark hole you crawl down,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple, “I’ll drag you out of it.”

  Tears fill my eyes.

  That’s exactly what he did.

  And he’ll have to do it again, because I’m still there. Drowning in the past that’s suddenly right in front of my eyes.

  36

  Caleb

  I wrap my arm around Margo’s shoulders. She’s shaking like a leaf, but I don’t think she even realizes. Her expression doesn’t change from the worried scowl when we go outside, crossing the street to where the ambulances have parked.

  Robert and Lenora rush toward us. They surprise me by not waiting until we’re separated. They throw their arms around both of us, so it’s like a weird, crying huddle.

  I pat Robert’s back, but my gaze is on Margo.

  There’s something in her expression that has me on edge.

  The concern, more than anything, is the driving force pushing away my anger. She went into the diner when she knew Claire was dangerous. I could’ve handled it, but Margo played right into Claire’s hand. Of course Claire wanted the three of us in the same room, with herself in control.

  The EMTs check out Margo and I as soon as Robert and Lenora release us. We sit on the back step. Margo’s hand is loose in mine.

  She’s still not here.

  “Caleb,” Mr. Black calls. He puts his hand on my shoulder once he gets to us. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  “We made it out in one piece,” I say.

  Margo shakes her head. “Did we?”

&nb
sp; “I think Uncle David has Amberly,” I tell him. “Can you tell Detective Masters?”

  Mr. Black’s eyebrow raises. “What makes you think that?”

  “Mom called this morning. Eli and I went over, and her apartment had been ransacked. She didn’t say as much, but…”

  “Got it.” He crouches next to Margo. “You okay?”

  “Fine, Mr. Black, thank you,” she says.

  “That’s a good girl.”

  She looks up at the EMT hovering nearby. “When can we go home?”

  “I just need a statement,” Masters answers, approaching with Eli’s dad close behind.

  “A statement,” Margo repeats.

  “Can this wait, Detective? They just went through a traumatic experience—”

  “Which means we should go over it while it’s fresh,” Masters finishes.

  I really hate that man.

  “Can we do it now?” I ask.

  Masters scans my body, taking inventory of my bumps and bruises. “Okay. Come with me.”

  We both stand, but he waves at Margo. “No, just one at a time. That’s how this works—I get you to tell me what happened, then Margo’s version. Then Claire’s.”

  I grunt, slowly releasing her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  She doesn’t react. Her attention is fixed on her hands.

  He leads me to his car. “Get in.”

  “The back?”

  He chuckles. “No, front’s fine.”

  I slide into the passenger seat, and he cranks the heat.

  “So. What happened?”

  I recount the events. Claire showing up on my running route, telling me about an accident. She pulled out the gun when I questioned her about a wrong turn, and… everything went downhill.

  “Did you think about getting the gun away from her?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know anything about firearms, sir.”

  “Sir.” He chuckles. “Haven’t heard that out of an Asher’s mouth in a while.”

  Time for some honesty. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “You went to Emery-Rose, right? Did you know my dad?” I have a feeling that’s the reason behind the weird anger he directed at me. Caleb Asher, son of the infamous Benjamin Asher. The expression, like father, like son exists for a reason, doesn’t it?

  He sighs. “Yeah, I knew of him. I was friends with Keith.”

  I sit up straight. “Keith Wolfe.”

  “Fresh out of the academy, and my first case was your dad’s death. The lead detective followed the lines right to Keith.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry you saw your dad like that. I knew they were friends, even though Ben was always a bully in school.”

  “A bully,” I repeat. “To you?”

  “No. Not to me. Other guys in school. The random girl.” He shifts. “Keith was good. At least, I thought…”

  “He’s innocent,” I blurt out.

  When did I start believing that?

  Probably around the same time you fell in love with Margo.

  I shove that thought neatly to the back of my mind.

  “Do you have evidence to back that up?”

  “I don’t. But Claire admitted that Amberly and my mom were scheming. And Hanna—”

  “Evans? Claire’s sister?”

  “Right. She’s actually my mom’s daughter. I’m sure you can verify that through adoption records.” I’m making a plea. Practically begging the detective to listen to me. I’m holding his attention, but it might not last. “I don’t know what Margo’s mom and mine had planned, but I think they wanted to get back at my dad.”

  His expression turns thoughtful. “The case was very cut-and-dry. Fingerprints on the knife he used…”

  “A knife that anyone in the house had access to?” I twist toward him. “Tobias Hutchins, his lawyer, screwed him over.”

  “Proof, Caleb. If your goal is to exonerate Keith, I need more.”

  I run my hand over my face. “I just… we know he’s innocent. He got caught up in a shitstorm.”

  He exhales. “Okay. We’ll talk to Amberly and Lydia, see if anything comes of it. They’re involved in this, one way or another.”

  “Right.”

  “So,” he prompts, “Claire drove you here. Then what?”

  “She was ranting.” I close my eyes. “She duct taped my wrists, and all I could think about was how worried Margo was going to be when I didn’t come back.”

  “Claire has been living with the Ashers,” Detective Masters says. “We did a background check on her. She has a full and colorful file, to say the least.”

  “And my uncle is an abusive asshole,” I grumble. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. “What happens if he’s arrested for… literally anything?”

  “Happens with what?”

  “He presides over my inheritance,” I say. “But I’m pretty sure the clause in there says only if he remains in good standing with the law.”

  Wait.

  Maybe Dad knew what kind of devil his brother was. So why entrust the money to him?

  I fling the door open. “Sorry, I’ve got to talk to Mr. Black.”

  I rush toward where Mr. Black is waiting with Margo and blurt out, “You presided over my dad’s will.”

  He squints at me. “Are you okay?”

  “You presided over my dad’s will. You know what it says—your firm has the papers.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “I need to see it.”

  Margo reaches out and hooks her index finger with mine.

  She’s with me.

  Mr. Black shrugs. “Okay. Let me just tell the detective that he can get Margo’s statement at the station tomorrow. I also informed the police that Amberly’s whereabouts are unknown. They’re going to look for her. Wait right here, I’ll be back in a flash.”

  Robert and Lenora press closer. They’d been silent up until now, blending into the background.

  “Margo?” Lenora asks. “You okay, honey?”

  She shrugs. “Just…”

  She’s shutting down before our very eyes, but her finger is still gripping mine.

  “Is it okay if Margo comes with me and Mr. Black?” I ask them. “I’ll have her home before eight.”

  Margo sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t say anything.

  Lenora strokes Margo’s hair. “Is that what you want?”

  “I’d like to stay with Caleb,” she answers.

  Mr. Black comes back. “We’re good to go.”

  Margo rises, letting Robert and Lenora hug her again. She withdraws rather quickly, looping her arm through mine. She hugs my arm tightly, fingers digging into my biceps.

  Worry tugs at me.

  In the car, we both sit in the back seat. Eli’s dad gives me a look, but after a second of watching Margo in the rearview mirror, he nods.

  I trace patterns on her leg.

  “We’re going to the city?” she asks, lifting her head.

  “Yes, my office is downtown,” he says. “I grabbed you a water bottle, Margo.”

  I take the bottle he holds over his shoulder, and she takes a few sips.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” I whisper.

  She shifts, pulling the small journal out of her pocket. “Claire never did get her hands on this.”

  She flips it open, seemingly searching for something.

  And then she sucks in a breath, handing it over to me.

  Amberly was singing today. She never mentioned having a voice, but it’s surprisingly good. I stayed out of the kitchen and closed my eyes, trying to remember the last time the house was full of happiness.

  Well before I destroyed it, that’s for sure.

  I asked myself if she was singing to Ben, and it almost killed me not knowing. I crept through the house and finally gave in, peeking around the corner. I felt like Caleb on one of his spy missions.

  It wasn’t Ben—it was Margo. Amberly had her daughter on the counter while
she worked bread dough beside her.

  She was singing Blackbird by The Beatles.

  Telling her daughter to escape this house, maybe?

  “Take your broken wings and learn to fly.” The line Margo was later repeating to herself in the yard.

  She looked at me and asked why her wings were broken, and I hated to say it was because of us. What Amberly and I were doing to our families.

  What I had already done.

  What did I say? Something like, “You’re a pretty little bird, Margo. Our wings let us fly, but they’re also fragile. Protect your wings.”

  She seemed to like that.

  I shake my head. “She was scheming.”

  “Pretty little bird,” Margo says. “From Lydia. From my mother.”

  “Claire read it. The whole thing, probably. Whatever happened between our parents… I don’t think it was your dad’s fault. Or yours.”

  “You’re right.”

  I meet her eyes. “I… am?”

  She sighs, tipping her head back. “Yeah. Let me tell you what really happened.”

  37

  Margo

  Past

  I fidgeted by the sink. Dad was at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper, but he kept glancing at me. It was rare that he wasn’t working in the middle of the afternoon. Nice, too. I crept back home. The door to Mr. Asher’s office was closed when I passed it, and Mom’s car was gone.

  “You seem off, kiddo,” Dad said. “Everything okay?”

  After Mom left me in Caleb’s room, Mr. Asher had rounded on me and demanded to know what I saw. I tentatively told him all of it.

  And Caleb hadn’t been surprised. That was the worst part. He had a dead look in his eye while I spoke, and after…

  He had come alive, grabbing my shoulders the same way Mom had. Please don’t say anything. It’ll ruin everything.

  I shook my head, and then I remembered Mom’s plea.

  “All good,” I managed.

  He set down the paper and twisted toward me. “The truth, now?”

  The gate opening drew my attention. Mom nudged it closed with her foot, her arms full of brown paper bags. Any minute now, she was going to walk in and see the expression on my face.

  The look that was one hundred percent guilt.

 

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