Page 48 of Blood Queen

Truman’s mom embraces him next, whispering something only he can hear. His jaw tightens, but when he pulls away, he presses a kiss to her cheek. A promise in its own way. Nate—who’s been quiet this whole time—shuffles up to me last. He kicks at the concrete, scuffing his sneakers.

“Don’t let him be too bossy,” he mutters.

I grin. “Oh, I won’t.”

Truman snorts. “Like I’ve ever bossed you around.”

Nate hugs me quickly before darting back to his mom’s side. And then it’s time.

We step onto the bus, and as I settle into my seat beside Truman, I turn and press my hand to the window. I watch as his family waves, getting smaller and smaller as the bus pulls away. My heart squeezes.

And then—just like that—we’re gone. Leaving Moffitt. The only place I’ve ever lived. The only people I’ve ever known.

The only home I’ve ever had.

The world stretches wide outside the window, more than I ever imagined. I press my forehead to the glass, watching fields and forests blur past. Every town, every city, every flickering neon sign is a new story I’ve never read.

Truman shifts beside me. “You good?”

I nod. “I’ve just never been anywhere.”

He drapes an arm over the back of my seat, close but not caging. Protective, but gentle. “You’re not scared?”

I think about it. “No.” I glance at him. “Are you?”

His lips twitch. “Of course not.”

I hum, unconvinced. “You sure? You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

I grin at him. “Dangerous.”

His fingers find my braid, tugging lightly. “Smart ass.” His face dips down, his lips finding mine. A ghost of a kiss. “It’s a new adventure.”

The bus rumbles on. I keep watching, memorizing, cataloging. The colors of the buildings, the curve of the hills, the way the light shifts as the sun rises higher. At one point, we pass a massive bridge, and I grab Truman’s arm without thinking.

“Holy hell,” I breathe. “That’s a big river.”

His chest rumbles with laughter. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. “You’re cute when you’re amazed.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “It seems I’m always amazed.”

“That’s what I mean.”

I shake my head, but there’s warmth in my chest.

For hours, I lose myself in the movement, the miles, the newness of it all. But somewhere in the quiet lull of the ride,when Truman dozes off beside me, my mind drifts back home. To Papa.

He should’ve been here.

He should’ve been the one to send me off, to hug me and tell me to be safe, to remind me I could always come back. Instead, all I have is the ghost of his voice in my head, the aching emptiness where he used to be.Be safe and stay alert.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my knuckles hard against my mouth, fighting the sob that wants to rise.

Then Truman shifts, waking, and without a word, he reaches for my hand. Laces our fingers together like he already knew.

I grip him like a lifeline.

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