Page 50 of Blood Queen

“No,” she murmurs. “I’m saying she should go back.”

The world stops. My ears ring and I feel dizzy.

Truman goes deathly still beside me, but me? I just blink at her, the words slow to sink in.

“Excuse me?” Truman’s voice is dangerously calm.

Marcy doesn’t flinch. “I’ve been covering the four families for decades. I know the way they move, the way they operate. I also know the Testa family lost something valuable—you.” She tilts her head at me. “If you went back, Evany, if you earned their trust again, you could take them down from the inside. Feed me information. Give me an exclusive.”

It’s an out-of-body experience, hearing her say it. Like the world is moving without me, and I’m just watching it happen. Papa said I could go back, but he also said that’s not what he wanted for me. But I could right wrongs if I did, couldn’t I?

Truman isnotwatching. He’s moving.

“Are you out of your mind?” His voice is sharp enough to cut steel.

Marcy sighs, setting her pen down. “Truman—”

“No. NoTruman.You’re seriously sitting here, asking her towalk into that kind of familyjust so you can write a story?”

“It’s more than a story.”

“The hell it is.”

I stay quiet, staring at the table, at the rings left by our water glasses.

It’s not that I want to do it.

Idon’t.

But she’s right.

Iamvaluable to them.

Truman turns to me, his voice gentler now, but no less firm. “You’re not doing that.”

I meet his eyes. “I haven’t said anything.”

His throat works, frustration simmering just beneath his concern. “Then say it. Say you won’t.”

I don’t.

Not because I want to say yes. But because I don’t know what the right answer is yet.

Marcy exhales, then slides a small white card across the table. “Think it over,” she says. “And if you want to talk, call me.”

Truman doesn’t touch the card.

I do.

I tuck it into my pocket, standing when Truman does. He’s fuming, holding it together by a thread as we step out of the café, the warm summer air pressing in on us.

We walk in silence a few blocks before he stops abruptly, turning to me. “Kid.”

I lift my chin. “Truman.”

His jaw flexes. “You can’t actually be considering this.”

“I don’t know what I’m considering,” I admit. “But I do know she’s not wrong.”