Page 53 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

“Robert!” Lenora yells, grabbing his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“My chest is on fire.” He coughs into his hand, then grimaces at it. One of the monitors behind his bed starts beeping.

I hadn’t realized he was still connected to them.

A second later, a nurse rushes into the room. “Robert, what are you doing out of bed?”

She guides him back into it, making sure everything is in place. The monitor is still going crazy. He rubs at his chest, shaking his head.

“My chest is on fire,” he gasps.

He coughs again, and blood sprays across his blankets.

The nurse leans over and hits a button while Lenora and I watch in horror. The air drains from the room. His face goes deathly pale, and his eyes roll back a moment before he seems to go unconscious.

Lenora and I are shuffled back against the window as a team pours into the room, surrounding him.

He jerks, and they flatten the bed.

“Someone get them out of here,” one of the doctors calls.

A nurse separates and herds us out, down the hall.

“What’s happening?” Lenora demands.

“Looks like a complication with his chest tube,” she says. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any more information than that.”

She shows us to a waiting room and just… leaves us there.

Lenora’s hands go to her head, pulling at her hair, and she lets out a strangled cry. “Death can’t take you, too,” she whispers.

Oh god.

Why is it only just now occurring to me that her daughter died in a car accident?

I slip my arm through hers, drawing her hands away from her head. Slowly, as if I not to frighten her, I thread my fingers through hers.

She squeezes, turning away from the doorway and toward me.

“He’ll be okay,” she tells me.

It’s a bravado.

He might not be. He might…

I close my eyes and hold on tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

She cups my cheek until I look at her. “It isn’t your fault, Margo. This…” She shrugs. “All we can do is wait.”

Cindy and Jeff, my last foster parents, would’ve urged us to pray about it. They thought God could fix everything He wanted to—and if things had a shitty outcome, well, at least we learned a lesson.

Utter bullshit.

Time moves slowly after that.

I take off my jacket—I had forgotten I was even wearing it—and fold it over the arm of a chair. I sit and contemplate reaching for my phone, but my hands are trembling too badly.

Lenora paces by the door, occasionally peeking into the hallway.

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