Page 31 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

“They’re allowed some leeway, unfortunately. He held him for the seventy-two hours that he was allowed, then I’m sure it was his superiors that made Masters release Caleb.” He grimaces. “I’ve heard things about Masters. Once he gets his teeth into something, it’s hard for him to let go.”

“I told him Caleb was innocent.”

He sighs. “You did. Doesn’t mean the truth can’t be twisted.”

“Like… my dad’s trial?”

Any warmth in his gaze falls away. “What makes you say that?”

I shift on the seat. He’s put me on trial without even blinking.

“What can we do about Matt?” Switching subjects is my finest moment. “Someone’s covering for him. Maybe if we could find out who—”

“Margo, stop.” Josh rubs at his eyes. The cold expression vanished as soon as I dropped the subject of my father. “I know this is hard. Someone took you, your memory might be jumbled. You were drugged—”

I tilt my head. “What?”

Drugged.

“The toxicology report came back. Angela told us,” he said. “She got the results back before they discharged you.”

I swallow that information. It makes sense that they wouldn’t let me leave without knowing what was in my blood. Still. I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “What was I drugged with?”

“Margo…”

I’m beginning to think everyone in this damn town is keeping things from me.

“I deserve to know, Mr. Black,” I say. “It’s my body. Honestly, the doctors should’ve told me.”

He nods. “We’ll find out, okay?”

We sit and stare at each other for a moment.

I hate that I have so many questions—what my dad’s relationship was like with the Blacks, what the hell Matt is up to, my stolen hours. And even further back: what can’t I remember?

“Margo.”

I start.

He looks pointedly at my hands. “You’re bleeding.”

I release my wrist, where a thin line oozes blood. The rest of my wrist is covered in scratch marks. “Oh, um, I’m going to go put a… Band-Aid on it.”

He says nothing, and I rush away. Instead of going to the safety of my temporary room, I go to the basement. Caleb’s space.

He’s not here—he took off running with Eli, but that was an hour ago—and the room is cold without him. I rinse off my wrist, determined to stop touching it.

The feeling of duct tape being wrapped around them comes back full force.

I thought I was knocked out.

It hits me hard enough to put me off balance. I grab the counter, staring at my reflection.

I should’ve kept Caleb’s phone when he offered it, seconds before he left. Part of me thought I’d be happy with the freedom, but it just serves to isolate me.

A hysterical giggle creeps up my throat. Didn’t I think that was exactly what Caleb wanted to do to me before? Isolate me. Single me out.

Turns out, all he had to do was mastermind a car accident, a kidnapping, and steal my phone. Oh, and put my foster father in the hospital.

---