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

by S. Massery

  Dad saw it. A flash of fear.

  “You saw them?” he asked in a low voice.

  I jerked toward him. “I d-didn’t mean to.”

  Mom came in and stopped short. Her gaze went from my face to Dad’s. “Margo, what did you do?”

  Dad stood. “Amberly.”

  The bags fell from Mom’s hands in slow motion, but the way she moved wasn’t slow at all. She was suddenly in front of me, her hand on my chin. She forced my head up, until I met her eyes.

  “Tell me what you said.”

  Tears filled my eyes, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t say anything. I was going to keep her secret.

  “Margo!” she screamed. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and she shook me. Violently. My head snapped back. She yanked me toward her and away, movements brutal and jerky. “What did you do?”

  For a second, everything was still and quiet. Her voice rang in my ears.

  And then Dad was there, prying her away from me.

  I fell backward. My head hit the edge of the table, and white spots exploded like fireworks in front of my vision. My head throbbed, pain radiating over my skull. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I saw Mom looming above me.

  Dad shoved her—the first act of violence I’d ever seen from him—and lifted me into his arms. He carried me down the hall, into my room, and set me on the bed.

  In the other room, Mom was screaming. She must’ve been throwing things, because the sound of breaking glass came through the doorway.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. “Please, Margo.”

  I touched the back of my head. My fingers came away wet with blood, and I burst into tears.

  There was so much yelling.

  I ran to my door—to escape, to take the blame—but the knob wouldn’t turn.

  “You ruined everything!” Mom screamed.

  I flinched away from the door.

  “I ruined everything?” Dad yelled back. “You cannot seriously be pinning this on me, Amberly.”

  “Like hell I can’t. I had a plan! A way out of this godforsaken home!”

  Crash. Then… silence.

  “Daddy!” I screamed, beating at the door.

  No one came for me. I beat and scratched at the door, kicked it, slammed my body against it. It didn’t budge.

  I backed away, then looked down at my hands. They were covered in blood. Then the pain came, edging through the numbness.

  I had kept her secret, but Dad knew. He knew, and she blamed me.

  “Mom,” I moaned and sunk to my knees. “I didn’t tell.”

  Ages later, the door swung open. Dad came in and knelt in front of me, picking up my hands. He inspected the damage.

  His whole face was eons of sadness.

  “Want to go somewhere happy?” He scooped me up. “Let’s clean your hands off.”

  He carried me into the bathroom and gently cleaned my hands, wincing for me at the shredded nails. They stung under the warm, soapy water, but I didn’t say anything.

  I didn’t ask where Mom was.

  Or where they both had been.

  “Up you go,” he said.

  I was in his arms again, hugging him like an octopus. He carried me to the car, and then we went to the park. I didn’t see Mom, or anyone else. Not until the detective and social worker showed up.

  Present

  “I didn’t do it,” I finish lamely. I’m back to inspecting my nails, like I’d be able to see a trace of the past in them.

  He’s been staring at me while I relayed what I remember, but now…

  “God,” he chokes out.

  This is where he says it was only revenge, and now that the need for it is suddenly gone…

  I lick my lips, imagining I can still taste his goodbye kiss on my lips. We could’ve died. He could’ve died. That was where things were heading. After all, Claire was disintegrating before our eyes.

  How long would it have taken for Caleb to bleed out if she shot him?

  “Stop,” he orders.

  I blink at him.

  “Your thoughts are turning bleak, love.”

  Josh has been listening in silence, but now he says, “We’re coming up on it now.”

  I lean toward the window. “This feels… familiar.”

  Caleb smirks. “Because we came here when we got our masks.”

  “You left me in the lobby.”

  His smirk widens into a grin. “Yep.”

  Josh shakes his head.

  We park in a garage, circling down until we get to an empty row of spaces. One of the spots has a placard engraved with, Josh Black, Esq.

  “Fancy,” I say.

  “Beats hunting for a spot,” he answers.

  We all pile out and into the elevator.

  “What did you come here for before?” I ask.

  “Any time David wants to make big changes, Caleb signs off on them,” Josh answers. “While it first appeared that David had full control over Caleb’s assets, there were strict rules implemented to keep everyone honest. It requires continual upkeep.”

  “Until now,” Caleb mutters.

  His firm is a lot like Tobias’s. On a high floor, with huge windows letting light stream into offices and the bullpen. No one is around at this time of evening. The sun has set, casting everything in a twilight-blue hue.

  He flips on the light, and we head to his office.

  I sit on the couch, pulling my legs up so I can wrap my arms around them. Josh goes to his filing system, locating a thick envelope. Caleb and him go to the desk, and they both pore over it.

  Finally, Caleb taps a paragraph. “I knew it!”

  I sit up straighter. “What?”

  He grins at me. “If Uncle is arrested, all assets immediately revert back to me.”

  I bolt to my feet. “You—”

  Josh shakes his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice this sooner, or even remember—”

  “Caleb!”

  They both jerk toward me.

  “Your dad had to know that David was Hanna’s father, and that he was a monster. You…” My features soften. “You could’ve taken power back from your uncle all along.”

  His face falls, and his gaze goes back to the will. At the bottom of the page is his dad’s signature, the looping B and spiked A.

  He makes a call.

  Josh and I trade a confused glance.

  “Detective,” Caleb says.

  My eyebrows hike up.

  He’s willingly calling Detective Masters?

  “I’ll do whatever has to be done.”

  Ah, hell. I sink back onto the couch, dropping my head in my hands. Caleb’s slowly turning into the good guy, willing to do anything to set things right. Why does that make me think our troubles aren’t over?

  38

  Caleb

  Detective Masters arrives in Josh’s office in under an hour, accompanied by a woman who he introduces as Detective Carver with the NYPD. She carries a small soft-shell case.

  “Brought her in because this is a jurisdictional nightmare,” he tells us. “Claire started talking. She mentioned you had a notebook of hers?”

  Margo blushes. “Yeah. It was Lydia’s, and then Claire started writing in it.”

  He grunts. “Can I see it?”

  She rises, pulling it out of her coat. He takes it carefully, flipping through it.

  “We’ll get this back to you,” he tells her. “But I need to take this as evidence.”

  “I don’t want it back,” she says faintly. “If it helps…”

  He nods, then turns to me. “Ready?”

  “Can I…?” I motion for the journal. “Maybe Mom wrote about Tobias.”

  I skim through it. She had to have written about him.

  Margo reads over my shoulder, and her hand shoots out. “There. T.H.”

  “He’s still at work,” Carver says, reading something off her phone. “We should go now. Ready?”

  On the phone with Masters, I did something a little stupid.
I volunteered to go talk to Tobias while wearing a wire.

  I don’t know how long it usually takes to obtain a warrant, but apparently there’s enough evidence for them all to want to move with haste.

  Carver reveals the thin piece of cord and medical tape, motioning to me.

  I take a deep breath and remove my shirt. They work quickly, taping the microphone to my chest. I carefully pull my shirt back on, and Carver disappears into the hallway, her phone pressed to her ear.

  “Testing?” I joke.

  “You need to get him to admit to taking a bribe,” Detective Masters says. “And whatever else he tells you will be icing on the cake. Okay?”

  My smile fades. “Got it.”

  “Am I going?” Margo asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “No,” Masters says at the same time.

  We glare at each other.

  “She’s coming with me.” I’m not letting her out of my sight.

  He sighs. “Fine. If anything goes south, you just say something about the weather—like, ‘I hear we’re going to have a hot summer.’ Some shit like that. Got it?”

  “Yep.”

  “What if he brings up the weather?” Margo asks.

  Detective Masters groans. “Get creative.”

  Josh frowns. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. What do you think will come of this?”

  The detective’s gaze bounces around the three of us, then finally settles on Margo. “Claire told us that your mother’s affair with Ben Asher was planned between her and Lydia.”

  I squint.

  “Because of Hanna,” Margo says. Her voice is so low, we almost miss it. “This whole thing started because Lydia couldn’t keep her legs shut?”

  I hide my smile behind my hand. My little wolf is coming back to herself.

  “Ah—”

  “Don’t answer that, Detective,” Josh says. “Let’s get this show on the road. I’d like nothing more than for this day to be over.”

  We make the short trek to Tobias’s law firm. It’s just two blocks away, but Josh and the detective insist on driving. Carver nods at us from an unmarked car parked on the street. The van just ahead of her is probably filled with police officers. Or maybe it’s just one lonely tech listening to my breathing.

  “You’re on your own from here,” Masters says. “Remember—”

  “Weather means help,” I say. “Got it.”

  “Good luck,” Josh says.

  I take Margo’s hand as we walk into the building. “I can’t believe you came here without me.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Ask you to accompany me while I ask him about my dad?” She shakes her head. “You didn’t believe me.”

  “I do now,” I say. “Ever since I talked to him. Maybe even before that.”

  She glances up at me. “Really?”

  “Yes. I want your dad out of prison. I swear it.”

  She smiles. “Thank you.”

  I call the elevator, and the doors slide open immediately. I hit the button for the law firm’s level, and the doors close. Silence descends. I’m too aware of the tape on my skin. The way Margo keeps sucking her lower lip into her mouth. If she wasn’t holding my hand, she’d be scratching her wrist. And… the silence is getting to me. Maybe my nerves are frayed from the day we’ve had, because a strange feeling is bubbling up inside me.

  “I’m in love with you,” I blurt out. It’s about time I told her.

  She freezes. “Huh?”

  The elevator chimes, and the doors open.

  Way to ruin it.

  The floor is basically empty. We go past the receptionist’s abandoned desk. There are a few lawyers in the bullpen, at their cubicles with their heads bent. Some people never stop working. They’re itching to get ahead, so focused on the future that they forget to have lives.

  They don’t notice us gliding past them.

  I’m determined not to be like them. Not to shutter my gaze away from what’s happening around me.

  Margo takes the lead. She’s been here before, and she seems to remember where she’s going. Around the cubicles, to one of the offices against the far wall.

  Without knocking, Margo turns the knob and bursts inside.

  Tobias Hutchins makes a choking noise in surprise. “Ms. Wolfe? What are you doing here?”

  “She’s with me,” I say, stepping into the room.

  He’s been afraid of me for a while. Since Mom once slipped that she knew him as more than a friend as she shuffled him out of Uncle David’s house. At the time, I thought they’d met at Keith’s trial. It was the natural connection.

  But… I know the truth now.

  “Ah, Mr. Asher,” Tobias says. “What brings you… here?”

  Margo pulls out the journal. “Do you recognize this?”

  He says nothing—which is an answer in and of itself.

  I take it from Margo’s hand and stride closer. “She’s quite a detail-oriented woman, my mother.”

  His eyes widen.

  “She took note of every meeting, every chance encounter with our family. When everything goes sideways, who do you think will take the blame?”

  “This is ridiculous—”

  “You botched my father’s trial,” Margo snaps.

  “It wasn’t my idea.” Tobias loosens his tie. “You think I ever wanted this for myself? That I thought I’d be sitting on…”

  “On what? Guilt?”

  “Blood money.”

  I lift my chin. “Who actually told you to do it?”

  “Your mother was conniving.” He goes to the window, yanking his tie completely off. “She said no one would know. No one would find out. The knife had his fingerprints on it.”

  Margo takes a step closer to me.

  I tilt my head to the side. Rage has always felt strangely comforting to me. Like a security blanket I could wrap around my shoulders. I try to draw upon it now, but all I can muster is confusion.

  Margo inches forward, until she’s half blocking me from Tobias.

  “Lydia pinned the whole thing on you.”

  I wonder when she learned to lie so well.

  “Are you saying that isn’t true?” She crosses her arms. “Look. We just came for the truth. If you can’t give us that… I guess we’ll see you at your court date.” She shrugs and pivots on her heel. “Come on, Caleb. We were just trying to help. But apparently he thought of everything.”

  I follow her to the door. Doubt creeps up the farther we get, but I’m just about to step out when he calls, “Stop!”

  We reenter the room.

  “Sit. Please.” He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, then slumps into his own seat. Once we’re comfortable, he gives me a look. “You know I had no choice.”

  “Do I?”

  “Your uncle is a monster. He threatened to take away everything if I didn’t comply.”

  I scowl. “How did he get to you?”

  Tobias shifts. “I didn’t use legal methods to get through law school. I was a defender on a case his business partner was involved in, and he…” He clears his throat. “He got to me then. When this case came up, he and Lydia suggested I volunteer.”

  “That’s my dad’s life you threw away,” Margo says. “Like it was nothing but saving your own ass.”

  “And a payout, I’d imagine,” I say, leaning my elbow on the arm of the chair.

  He glares at us. “Aren’t you listening? I didn’t have a choice.”

  Margo opens the journal, practically tearing the pages with her force. “Two days before Caleb’s dad died, you were there. Lydia writes, ‘Tobias stopped by. He was nervous for what needed to be done. For our childrens’ sake, we’ve decided that I’m going to take them out.’ The next day: ‘Keith nearly ruined everything, but in the end, it worked out better than we ever could’ve imagined.’”

  She lifts her head. “You killed Benjamin Asher.”

  He hangs his head. “I wish I had never gotten roped into this. Dav
id and Lydia forced my hand.”

  I jump to my feet. Screw the fucking wire, and the police listening in—he just admitted to murder. “You stabbed him and left him for me to find.”

  “Lydia was supposed to find him,” he says quietly.

  “Caleb,” Margo says behind me. “Easy.”

  “It was your car that Matt used to hit Margo and her foster parent. You gave him the keys because of David—or was it my mother? Sweet talking her way into your—”

  “Fine! Yes, it was your mother.” He grabs at his hair. “She didn’t tell me—”

  “Bullshit,” Margo mumbles. “We need to leave.”

  Get in and get out. Last minute instructions from Masters before patting my back and sending us in here.

  “You’re fucking twisted,” I tell him. “And you’re going to prison.”

  “How’s that, Caleb?” Tobias asks, straightening the papers on his desk. “Do you have more proof than just a notebook that could be filled with lies? No one is going to know that I was the one to kill Ben and get paid for it in more than just cash. No one will know that your mom and uncle were the orchestrators of the whole thing—including the so-called affair. Well, no, actually…” He winks at Margo. “The affair was just a plot between your mothers to bring down an angry, rich man. See how well that worked out?”

  I pull up my shirt, exposing the wire. “Looks like the sun’s going to come out tomorrow. Unfortunately… I don’t think you’ll be around to see it.”

  Tobias is calm for a moment, his eyes on my chest. And then he yells, lunging around the desk for me.

  I yank Margo behind me, bracing for Tobias’s charge.

  He stops short when Detective Masters bursts into the room, the door cracking against the wall.

  Masters sneers. “Game over, Hutchins.”

  He nods to me, and I guide Margo out of the room. She’s not reacting the way I expected her to—again. It means something dark has taken root in her mind.

  This was too much for her.

  We pass by the police who are filtering in from the elevator, and I opt for the stairs. We get down three levels before I tug her to a stop.

  “Look at me,” I say.

  She doesn’t see me. Her gaze goes to my face, but she’s not here.

  I walk her backwards, until she hits the wall.