Page 103 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

“What the hell is that?” Liam points to something on the ground.

“It looks like…” Oh god.

I cover my mouth. I’ve never been one to have a weak stomach, but this…

A white bird sits just below the words.

Dead.

Oh, what a glorious fall.

“Fucking hell,” Theo growls. He herds us out of the room, slamming the door closed. “Did you see it?”

“See what? The writing?”

“The fucking dead bird,” he says, eyes narrowed at Margo.

She blanches. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a threat,” I declare. “Calling you a pretty bird, then giving you a dead one?”

She bursts into tears.

Shame flushes through me, and I go to her. Cradle her head against my chest. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

She grabs my shirt, holding me close. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to.” I shake my head. We know the connecting pieces—it’s only Unknown who is still a mystery. But who’s pulling their strings isn’t. “You’re coming with me. I’m sure they’ll let you.”

“You want to bring her home?” Lenora asks, coming up the stairs. “Honestly, that’s… not a bad idea.”

“You’d let me go?” Margo goes to her foster mom and takes her hands. “I almost don’t want to leave, but—”

“This house doesn’t quite feel safe, does it?” She sighs. “Not the warm and fuzzy night we had planned. The detective said we’re free to start cleaning the room, so I’m going to have a service come in tomorrow. Anything you want to salvage?”

Margo’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t think I can go in there.”

“I will,” I say. “I’ll see if anything is… untouched.”

I slip back into the room, closing myself in. Once the fresh air is sealed off, the dead bird smell fills the air. It’s a wonder the whole house doesn’t smell like it.

I grab the tipped over trash bin and dump out the liner, using it as a barrier to scoop the bird into. Poor sucker. It appears to have had a quick, painless death. Hell, maybe Unknown stumbled upon it and just brought it in here.

Sure beats the alternative.

Her clothes look undisturbed in the dresser until I pull them out. Holes have been cut in the fabric of her shirts, her jeans have been cut, but whoever did it folded them back up.

One more fuck you toward Margo, apparently.

We aren’t just dealing with someone who wanted to mess with Margo.

Somehow, she’s made them mad. Worse than mad.

I ball my fists and walk out, giving her a quick shake of my head. “They ruined everything.”

She exhales slowly, leaning against the wall.

“I called Dad,” Eli says. “He okayed her return once I explained what happened.”

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