Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals #3)

1. Caleb

Chapter 1

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. It also reminds me that things have changed since my childhood.

My mom left, my father is dead.

The house I spent the first ten years of my life in is now no better than a mausoleum.

Eli and I stand on opposite sides of his dining table with piles of clean clothes. The faster we fold, the sooner we’ll be done. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. And the sooner we finish, the faster we can escape to the garage and practice our shooting.

I can’t afford to get rusty because Coach suspended me from a few games.

Right now, Margo is with her dad. I woke up this morning filled with a sense of dread, and even though I tried to hide it… 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 last thing I want, in this exact moment, is for Margo to be hurt. It’s kind of annoying, actually. I was hell-bent on her destruction just a few months ago. I turned the whole school against her. And now I can’t picture anyone else harming her. It can only be me.

Just as surely as only she can hold my heart.

My heart . How fucking sappy.

The doorbell rings. Eli moves off to answer it. My phone goes off, stopping me from following him, and I grab it. My brows furrow at the blocked number. Private scrolls across the top of my screen.

A blocked number probably isn’t Unknown, Margo’s harasser. Stalker . In all reality, it’s a telemarketer or a scam. And if Margo didn’t have a stalker who liked to text her creepy things from a blocked number, I would probably dismiss the call entirely.

Instead, I answer it.

“Hello, Caleb,” a robotic voice says. It sounds like an automated voice reading a line of text. “I’ve been eager to speak with you.”

A chill sweeps down my spine. “Who is this?”

The voice laughs. It sounds fucking weird as shit. It doesn’t translate well—which probably bodes well for the future of humanity. Can robots take over the world if they can’t imitate a human laugh?

“They’re going to ask you about Margo,” it finally says.

“What?”

“When they ask, just remember: anything you say will be held against you. Like you’re already under arrest.” The hydraulic laughter picks up again.

“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.”

“That is the opposite of what I want,” I snap. “You’ve been stalking us—haven’t you been paying any attention?”

Eli’s mom walks into the kitchen. “Caleb, hang up the phone.”

I want to keep arguing with the sicko on the other end of the line, but there’s something in her expression… something bad. I lower the phone, my body stilling. Pressing the red end button is easy. Automatic. I’m glad, as soon as the call is cut off, to be free of it.

But what has Norah Black spooked?

“The police are here,” she says to me in a low voice. “They wanted to talk to you.”

Anything you say will be held against you .

Somehow, this—this person knew the police were on their way to the Blacks’ house. Taunted me with it before I realized. Are they outside right now? Watching the house?

“Who was on the phone?” Eli’s mom questions. “Your uncle?”

I shake my head, suppressing the bad feeling rising in my throat. “No one important.”

“I’ve called Josh. Eli is holding him off in the front room.” She tips her head. “Don’t admit to anything.”

Josh is Eli’s father and a very skilled defense attorney. It would make sense to have him around for a conversation with the police. He often told us that innocent people think they don’t need an attorney—and that lands them in hot water more often than not.

“Did they say why they need to speak with me?”

If something happened with my uncle…

My chest tightens.

Worry flits across her face, but it’s gone before I can latch on to it.

“They didn’t say.” She smooths my shirt and straightens the collar. She’s been more my parent than my family ever was. Taking a deep breath, she turns and leads me into the sitting room.

Eli leans against the doorframe that separates the front room from the foyer. The only other person in the room is an older man. He’s big and wide, a black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders. Bald. He faces the window, but his body is angled toward Eli.

At our entrance, he twists to face us. His eyes are light blue and piercing. His eyebrows are dark, set on a heavy brow bone. He doesn’t smile or react in any other way.

This isn’t a pleasant visit, then.

And he’s certainly no patrol cop. No uniform in sight, just a badge at his hip.

“Caleb, this is Detective Masters.” Norah gestures for us to sit. “Since Caleb is still a minor, I’m going to stay. Although I would prefer if we waited until my husband was home.”

“I just have a few questions for Mr. Asher, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” His voice rasps. “We can wait if you’d like.”

I lift one shoulder. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

Norah lets out a breath, then nods.

I take a seat. Eli stays where he is, visible out of the corner of my eye.

The detective takes the seat across from me. “Have you been home all day?”

My eyebrow jumps. He’s wasting no time. And it isn’t every day the police come asking for an alibi.

“I dropped my girlfriend off at home this morning and came back here.”

“Been here all day,” Eli confirms.

Masters glances at him. He consults a notepad, then refocuses on me. “Girlfriend is Margo Wolfe?”

My stomach twists. Why is he asking about Margo?

“Did something happen to her?” I lean forward.

He waits.

“The last time I saw her was in front of her house this morning,” I reiterate.

“And as far as you know, what were her plans today?”

I frown. “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,” Norah interrupts 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?”

He stands as well. “Her foster mother has reported her as such.”

“Why?”

He stares at me, then checks his notes again. “At approximately two p.m. this afternoon, Robert Bryan’s vehicle was struck. Reports from the prison showed that Margo Wolfe was listed on the visitor’s log. She, unlike her foster father, was not found in the vehicle.”

And they haven’t been able to find her.

“And you’re here? Questioning me when you should be—I don’t know, out there searching for?—”

“Caleb.” Norah puts her hand on my arm.

I jerk away from her. Margo is missing —and has been since two o’clock? It’s nearly five now. That’s three hours. I suddenly can’t breathe around my fear. Images of someone dragging her out of a wrecked car fill my mind.

“This is bullshit,” I spit. “She wouldn’t just wander away. What you really mean is someone took her. Since you seem to be implying it was me, I’ll save you the trouble—it wasn’t.” I narrow my eyes at the detective. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Masters’ expression sharpens. “Has anyone been paying too much attention to Margo? 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. And we’re not friends —she’s something else entirely.

“You have quite the obsession with her, don’t you, Caleb?”

Norah makes a noise of protest. “They’re dating, Detective. Young love is intense.”

All my training to keep calm is slowly going out the window. Lessons with my uncle have gone to shit. My temper is snapping— fast .

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Norah continues. “If you’d like to talk to Caleb further, you can go through my husband.”

The detective narrows his eyes—not at her, but at me.

“You can’t hide from this,” he tells me.

A chill sweeps down my spine.

I don’t have anything to hide. Not when it comes to Margo.

While Eli’s mom shows him to the door, I go downstairs. I shove my sneakers on, lacing them tightly, and grab my sweatshirt.

Eli intercepts me at the top of the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“Get out of my way,” I snarl.

“He’s still out there, you jackass. What do you think, he’s just going to tell you Margo’s missing and then drive away? You burst out the door now, he’s just going to follow you.”

“I know—” I grimace. “I don’t know who has her. But I kind of know.”

He rears back. “What?”

All I know is that Margo’s stalker played a part in this. And for this detective to believe me, I need proof.

“It’s complicated.” I shoulder past him, forcing him to follow me. “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 shakes his head. “Fine. I’m in.”

I pause. “What?”

“I’m in . Fuck off with that look of surprise. Do you think I’d just let you handle this on your own?”

Well…

“Asshole.” He elbows me. “I’ll lead the detective away. As soon as I lose him, I’ll meet you at the school.” He snatches my keys out of my hand. “You’re not even supposed to be driving anyway.”

He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and hurries toward the garage. A second later, the familiar purr of my car engine reaches my ears.

He’s going to lead the detective away.

With Eli… a little bit of hope comes back. I’m not ten years old, pushed along by my family’s current. I can make my own choices.

I will bring her home.

Past

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.

She moved to the foot of my bed, her arms wrapping around herself. Her glare cut through my misery. Through me .

“Why did they take her away?” I sat up slowly, the desperate need for answers clogging my throat.

“Her father—” Mom pressed her lips together. “After what that man did to our family, you still want to see her?”

I frowned. “ 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 turned on my overhead light.

I cringed. She was being mean. Grief made people do crazy things, right?

“Do you even care that your father is dead?” She glowered at me.

Long live the king.

I’d been repeating that since the day he’d 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.

Her grief was loud. Hard. But my aunt whispered in my ear at the funeral: we’re supposed to bear witness. That’s the only way she’d get better.

The loss I was dealing with was twofold. My father, yes, but also my best friend. Dad being gone was kind of incomprehensible. It was too abstract to imagine. But my best friend being torn away for good… that, unfortunately, I could picture. Mom had already painted it in such fine detail, the way my friend was never returning to Rose Hill.

And when I think of my father, I think of his yelling. I think of his cold expression.

So, I did care that my father was dead—just not like I cared about her .

I wanted Margo. Plain and simple.

Mom huffed at my silence. “Get up.”

The digital clock on my nightstand proclaimed the time: 2:06 a.m. A thrill of nerves went through me. Why were we getting up in the middle of the night?

“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. Why do I have to ask you to do something twice?”

I shuddered but did as she’d asked. I threw clothes in a backpack. She disappeared into the hall, then returned with my toothbrush and a few other toiletries. She checked what I had already tossed into my bag and added underwear and socks. With a firm hand, she zipped it shut and slung it over my shoulder. She steered me down the stairs with a tight grip on my arm.

Her bag was packed, too. A suitcase sat by the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from this house.” She gave me a brittle smile.

I cast a look around at the familiar space. “For how long?”

“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. Irony at its best.”

Those words were foreign. I thought Dad trusted her? How could trust lock something up?

Outside was just as warm and still as it was in my bedroom. The night wasn’t silent—not like the house. Quiet, yes, but there was life out there. Crickets. The wind rustling through the trees.

Not like in there .

“I don’t understand.” I trailed her to the back of the car, where she tucked both our bags in the trunk.

“You don’t understand what?”

How is Margo going to find me if I leave?

“You’re going to stay with family,” she said in an even tone. “Get in the car.”

She opened the door behind the driver’s seat and waited for me to climb in. I secured my seat belt, and she closed the door softly. She climbed behind the wheel.

“What family? Uncle David and Aunt Iris?”

She jerked her head in a nod.

My stomach pitched. I swallowed hard. If I threw up, it would only make things worse—but Uncle David had a mean streak worse than Dad’s.

She wanted to leave me there with him?

“You’re coming, too, right?” I leaned forward. “Mom?”

She met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “There are some things I need to take care of, Caleb. I need to find someone to get the blood out of the carpet, for one. The sooner we can sell that godforsaken house, the better off we’ll be.”

White-hot fear flashed through me.

“You can’t sell it! Margo?—”

“Do not speak her name.” Mom slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to the side of the road. She twisted around and pinched my chin. Her long nails dug into my skin. “She’s dead to us. Okay, honey? I need you to understand. That vile girl will not be a problem anymore. After what she’s done to this family…”

“Just like Dad?”

Mom stared at me for a moment. There was a softness in her expression, but now it was gone. “Didn’t you ever love him? Do you not get it? He isn’t coming back. This isn’t a dream you can wake up from, Caleb. Things won’t go back to how they were. And I sure as hell will not trap myself in Rose Hill while the rest of the world keeps turning.”

I did love him, but he screamed. Threw things. Instilled terror into us.

Us . Like Margo was sitting beside me.

Mom released her grip on me and turned back around. She breathed deeply, while I shook in my seat. I understood what Mom was saying. In Rose Hill, bad things happened. She wanted a new chance at life.

But I didn’t. I wanted things back to normal.

She started the car again, pulled back out onto the quiet road.

I rubbed the bracelet on my wrist absently. I should’ve removed it and thrown it away, but the hate Mom kept insisting on wasn’t there. It wasn’t Margo’s fault. It was her dad’s fault.

“Silly boy,” Mom said, more to herself than me. “You think she didn’t have a hand in this?”

Had I spoken out loud?

“You’ll learn. You can’t trust a Wolfe.”