Page 8 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

Eli turns onto a gravel road. The bunkers are in the distance, the roof of a storage barn just visible over the hill. It’s swampy, dark muddy water on either side of the road. Feeble stalks poke out, waving in the wind.

He stops the truck just shy of the top of the hill. “What if they’re there?”

I laugh. “You’re asking me this now?”

“I mean, they could be armed.”

“That’s not stopping me.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

We crest the hill.

Nothing.

A barn and a low concrete building, and a whole lot of nada. Matt said there would be a car here, but this place looks abandoned.

“Fuck!” I yell.

“Chill out.” Eli pulls his truck around and puts it in park. “She could still be in there.”

I shove all my emotions down. I can’t afford to be hopeful or nervous or… terrified. We’re going to be smart about this. Logic over emotions. I want to burst into the buildings, scream her name, get her back. But that might get all of us killed.

What are the chances her kidnappers left her alone?

I find the folded knife he keeps in his glove box and flip it open. “You check the bunker. I’ll take the barn.”

We hop out and split up. The barn is old. It creaks and rattles in the wind. There’s a chain on the sliding doors, so I circle around. If someone got her in here…

I discover a door in the back. The knob is locked, but that’s easier to deal with than a chained sliding door. I take a step back and kick.

It flies open, banging against the wall.

This door leads into what appears to be an old office. There’s a desk in the corner, heavily tilting to one side. Thick dust covers everything. I creep through the door, into the main part of the barn. My eyes go to the hay stacked along one wall. The debris on the dirt floor.

And then…

“Margo!” I yell, sprinting for her.

She’s on the ground. On her side.

Her hair covers her face, and her hands are bound in front of her with duct tape. Her ankles are bound, too.

I fall to my knees in front of her, slowly pushing the hair from her face. Her eyes are closed. There’s a gash on her head, the blood sticky. It must’ve ran for some time, because it’s everywhere. All down her face, neck, soaked up in her shirt.

No jacket.

No shoes.

“Margo,” I whisper, rolling her onto her back.

She groans.

My heart jumps. She’s alive. That’s all the confirmation I need.

I pick her up, making sure her head is cradled on my chest, and head for the door. I’m a mix of emotions: furious at Unknown, if they were behind her abduction or simply taking credit for it. And so damn happy that I found Margo. In one piece.

I almost crash into Eli in the doorway.

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