Page 77 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

And no one knows his secret, either. It’s just another that I carry.

I retrieve my phone from my pocket, and the envelope Parker had given me earlier falls out.

Margo picks it up, raising her eyebrows, but I can’t focus on that right now.

I dial Noah’s number…

It goes straight to voicemail. It doesn’t ring more than once.

My stomach does that swooping sensation again, the same it did when I was in the fog on my run. The same feeling I keep getting when I’m outside.

“Are you okay?” Parker asks.

I set down the mask, still in its box, and frown. It’s after six, which means Noah should be home.

He always comes straight home.

It’s a ritual, it’s safety, it’s—

“Riley, breathe,” Margo orders.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can—

She slaps me. Not hard enough to hurt me, but the sting across my cheek whips my head to the side. I suck in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh my god.” Margo grabs my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m pretty sure you were having a panic attack—are having a panic—your face was so pale. I don’t—”

“It’s okay.” I grip her hand. “I need to find my brother.”

Parker’s eyes widen. “Noah? But we’ll be late—”

“I don’t fucking care about a pasta dinner.” My voice comes out raspy and low.

I burst out into the hallway. His room is empty, the door open and bed messily made. At the opposite end of the hall, my parents’ bedroom door is closed, as usual. The guest room door is open, though. It usually is. I think Dad’s taken to sleeping there—he’s given up control of the master bedroom.

I don’t blame him.

Our annoyance with Mom runs deep. It’s more like extreme fatigue to her antics. We’ve dealt with it for too long, but there’s no way we can’t. I suppose we all have our solutions. I run. Dad works. Noah…

Noah does drugs.

Margo and Parker come out of my bedroom. They’re witnessing my body swaying back and forth, being blown by an invisible wind. The internal debate is trying to get an answer from my mother, whether it’s worth it.

I raise my phone to my ear, re-calling Noah, but it rings once and clicks, his choppy, almost robotic voice telling me he’s not there. To leave a message, or not.

I don’t.

“Can you come here?” Margo says quietly.

She’s on her phone, too.

No.

No, no, no.

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