Page 100 of Wicked Promises

“You were here.” I stare down at the bruises on her arm. “You know who did this.”

“I do,” she moans. “But I didn’t think he would go crazy like this. H-he took Amber.”

Eli’s head jerks up. “I’m sorry, you’re just telling us that your, I don’t know,roommatewas abducted?”

Mom is full-on crying now. She falls to the floor, starting to gather larger pieces of glass in her hand. To herself, she mumbles, “This isn’t safe. You might cut yourself.”

“Dude,” Eli says, pulling me away from her. “She…”

“Yeah. Hey, Mom? Any reason you called me instead of the police?”

She lurches toward me, but this time Eli intercepts. He shoves her against the apartment wall, holding her there with one hand on her collarbone. She stares at him with wide eyes.

“Cut the shit,” he tells her.

And… she does. The stupid, sad expression slips off her face, replaced only by the mother I used to know. She tugs at her sleeves, putting them back in place, and glances up at me.

“Honestly, Caleb. This is a family matter.”

“Amber Wolfe isn’t part of the family, Mom.”

Her attention goes to my wrist. The damn bracelet that is—and has always been—a symbol of how much I care for Margo.

Her gaze flicks back to my face. “Dare I say she will be?”

“We’re out of here,” Eli snaps. “Jesus, you people are fucking mental.”

He pushes on her chest and points in her face. “Stay.”

She laughs. “Am I a dog?”

“May as well be?—”

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”

She follows us downstairs, back into the alley. My skin crawls at the filth she’s been living in, and I pick up speed. I only take a deep breath once we’re back on the sidewalk.

“Caleb—”

“Stop.” I pause. My headache has come back full force, pounding behind my eyes. I blink a few times, trying to just see clearly enough to focus on her. “This is fucked up. You should call the police to help you.”

She lifts her chin. “Right.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, right. Okay. Bye, Mother.”

Eli’s already in the truck by the time I get there. Warm air blasts out of the vents, which just goes to show how long we were inside—the truck hadn’t even had time to get cold.

“That’s messed up,” Eli says. He catches me rubbing my eyes again. “Concussion headache?”

He would know. Last year, he and another hockey player collided wrong. Knocked him out cold, which was an automatic ambulance ride. He was dizzy for a week.

“Yeah, or a tension one.” I force a laugh, dropping my hands into my lap. “School is going to be fun.”

“We’re leaving early, right? I love skipping last period. It’s just a freaking study hall.”

“I miss driving my own car,” I grumble. “But, yes. We’re going to see Margo’s dad.”

Eli hums. “Bet he’ll be interested to know that someone took his wife.”