“Eshan Pierce,” the voice calls over the speaker system.

I jump to my feet, clapping and screaming, and generally looking like a fool. But I really don’t care. It’s my brother I’m trying to embarrass, and I know I’ve succeeded when he gives me this little side look. But there’s a little smile that curls on his face.

By my side, Cyrus stands, too, cupping his hands around his mouth and giving a holler.

As Eshan walks across the stage, takes his diploma, and shakes the principal’s hand, his friends also give a whooping, hollering cheer.

It makes me happy that he has so many friends. That he hasn’t let his tossed life get him down.

The kid is ridiculously adaptable.

I’m grinning ear-to-ear, so damn proud of that lanky kid and those gold cords around his neck.

I never thought I was ready to be the parent to my little brother, but it’s been surprisingly satisfying.

He’s a good kid.

Sure, he’s snarky and sarcastic and he knows all of my buttons to push.

But he’s brilliant. He’s kind. He’s exactly the kind of person this new world needs.

Eshan looks in our direction once more before he walks across the stage and goes back to his seat.

The room goes quiet when the next name is called. “Carl Rammet.”

A kid with curly blond hair gets up and walks across the stage. No one shouts his name, no one cheers.

It breaks my heart. But I understand why the room is suddenly so quiet.

Carl is a Bitten. Him, and two other kids in the high school are. Everyone knows that they are. Everyone knows the choice that they made.

And everyone is terrified of those three kids. Even though they’ve kept their thirst under control. Even though they’re leading seemingly normal lives.

How can you not constantly be afraid of someone you know could kill you if they go too long between feedings—and feedings mean drinking the blood of those just like you?

For another thirty minutes, we patiently wait for the commencement to end and then it’s over. Just like that, the last three years of hard work and emotional distress over girlfriends and backstabbing friends is over.

We head outside, and out in the brilliant sun, we mingle with other families, human and Bitten alike.

No other Born are in this area, not that I’m aware of.

Eshan looks embarrassed as he walks across the lawn toward us. I can’t help but grin ridiculously big. He just looks so grown up and accomplished in his graduation gown and cap.

“I’m so damn proud of you, E,” I gloat as he walks to us and I wrap him up in a huge hug. “Honors, scholarships. Look at you being all big and important.”

“Geeze, mom,” he says dramatically. “Calm down a little.”

It causes a little twinge of pain in my chest, him calling me mom. And I hate that they can’t be here. I hate it even more that they aren’t here because of me. Because of what I was.

Ethan and Gemma Pierce were cut out of this world way too early. This world needs good, decent people like them.

“Congratulations,” Cyrus says, pulling his little brother-in-law in for a hug.

I love seeing the two of them together.

Maybe we messed something up along the way with our son—our son who turned so dark and so against us that we blotted out his name from our history, never to be spoken again. Maybe we are part of the reason why he turned out like he did.

But Cyrus is so good to Eshan. He understands him. He knows how to read him. He knows when to come down on him when necessary.

They really are like brothers, but also like father and son in the best way they can be.

“You ready?” I ask, checking the time on my watch. We really don’t have much of it to waste.

“Just a second,” Eshan says. “I just need to say goodbye.”

I give him a nod, but tell him with my eyes to hurry up.

He darts off toward a group of friends. They laugh and hug and they’re being so much more genuine right now than I’ve ever seen them. I guess that’s what saying goodbye does to people.

As I watch them, Eshan with all those kids who have been in and out of our house for the past three years, I wrap my arm around Cyrus’ waist and lean in on his shoulder.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for him,” I say. “He needed you. Just as much as he needed me. Maybe more.”

Cyrus wraps his arm around me as well and rests his head on top of mine. “He’s family,” he says. “He’s…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. And I can almost imagine the words going through his head.

He’s the son I wished we had.

A minute later, Eshan darts back over and says he’s ready to go. So together, as a family of three, we head for the car in the parking lot.

It’s a nice car, but nothing too flashy. Nothing to draw too much attention. We climb inside, and Cyrus points us back toward home.

I watch the landscape as we make the ten-minute drive. There’s huge live oak trees and Spanish moss hanging from them. There are beautiful flowers here and there. The houses are old and beautiful.

I hate the humidity. I can’t always understand the accents.

But I have loved our time here in Foley, Alabama.

It’s safe here. It’s quiet. There aren’t problems like they’re having in the big cities with the Born and the Bitten. We’re as protected as we can be here. We’re only a few hours away from the House of Conrath if needed, but far enough away we’re out of the business of vampires, away from the possibility of being found and discovered by individuals who would recognize the two of us. Those who are looking for and hunting for Cyrus.

We pull up to our house, a beautifully restored home that was originally built in 1801. It’s old. Kind of like us.

The minute we walk into the house, Eshan darts up the stairs, stripping off his graduation gown. I hear him upstairs rifling through his things, checking last minute for anything he’s going to need.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Cyrus asks, lingering in the foyer with me. “After three years, you’re ready to just let him take off on his own?”

I smile as I step forward, wrapping my arms around his waist. A wicked smile grows on his lips as he looks down at me.

“Are you kidding?” I say, teasing him with my eyes. “I’m ready to finally have that honeymoon. Eshan’s a big boy. I’ll only worry about him once every five minutes now, instead of every two.”

Cyrus shakes his head at me, but tilts his head down and presses a kiss to my lips.

Footsteps thunder on the stairs and Eshan rounds into the foyer just as I open my mouth to let Cyrus’ tongue inside.

“That, I will never miss,” he says in disgust. He hardly even looks at me as he walks right past us and into the kitchen. I hear him dig through the pantry, and I’m pretty sure I hear him dump half of it into his already stuffed backpack.

We talk, reminiscing on the past three years as we drive to the airport. On his soccer games. On the school dances he was too chicken to go to his junior year, and finally got the nerve to go to his senior.

We’ve had a good life here in Alabama.

We’ve managed to lay low. To stay away from the insanity of the world.

But now Eshan’s going to join it. He’s jumping right into the middle of it.

We arrive at the Pensacola airport fifty minutes later. And it finally hits me. Emotions tug at my eyes, pull at my heartstrings as we walk him to the security gate.

“You sure you got enough underwear, or whatever?” I ask, trying to think what mom would have said in this situation.

“Are you serious?” he asks, laughing, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

I laugh and shake my head. “If you have clean underwear is no longer my concern,” I say, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug.

“All you need is seven pair,” Cyrus says. “One for each day of the week, right?”

Eshan laughs, letting go of me and hugging my husband. “Exactly. And then you can just turn them inside out and you’re good to avoid laundry for another week.”

“That is disgusting,” I say with a gag.

It’s a good laugh. But really, we’re all having a hard time with this goodbye.

“Well,” Eshan says, adjusting that strap again. “I only got twenty minutes.”

I nod, ignoring the emotions that well in my eyes. “Okay,” I say. “We’ll call you in a week and let you know where we are.”

Eshan nods.

“I’m proud of you, Eshan,” Cyrus says. And no one could doubt his sincerity if they looked in his eyes. “You’re doing an incredible thing. I don’t think there’s anyone more qualified. You’re the kind of leader we need in this new world.”

A scuffle to our left draws everyone’s eyes. Five police officers tackle a man whose eyes are suddenly glowing red. They break out their stunners, designed specifically to take down vampires.

They aren’t prohibited from traveling on airplanes, but one wrong look and they’re taken into custody of the VBI—the Vampire Bureau of Investigation.

It’s a common sight, one I fear will lead to intervention from the Crimson State, formerly known as the state of Kansas, where fifty percent of the United States vampire population has moved to and declared their own territory, with their own rules and government.

“Do good things, E,” I say, hugging him one last time.

“Promise,” he says.

And then I let him go. He gives me one last smile, and then heads to security.

I watch him until he’s gone, holding hands with Cyrus.

After doing amazing in school, considering all the adjustments he had to make, Eshan got a revered apprenticeship with the International Vampire Peace Alliance. They’re an independent agency that formed a year after the exposure. They aren’t tied to any government agencies, because those proved to be a chaotic nightmare within six months. They’re a group of leaders and citizens who work with prominent vampire leaders, some Royals and House leaders, some who have big family ties, or are simply individuals that others flock to.

He’ll spend the summer there helping make the world a better place. And then in the fall, he’s going to the new Integration University in Chicago.

My brother is going to help make the world a better place.

I watch as he disappears through security. He gives one last wave, and then he disappears toward his gate.

“You ready?” Cyrus asks.

I nod.

We return to the car, but only to grab our own bags hidden in the trunk.

Eshan knew that we were going to be leaving Alabama soon after he left, but he didn’t realize that we were taking a flight only an hour after his own.

We’ve been based in Alabama for nearly three years now. But much of the world recognizes our faces from those news reports Moab did, exposing us and our kind to the world. To stay safe, to stay hidden, we have to move. We have to go underground again.

It’s time for a freaking honeymoon.

I’m so ready for Fiji.

We make it through security without issue, and we head to our gate.

I look around at all the couples as we wait to board. We’re obviously not the only honeymooners.

But that doesn’t deter Cyrus from taking my hand and pressing his lips to the back of it. I look over at him and meet his smoldering, dark green eyes.

It was his eyes that I first fell in love with. All this time later, I still fall in love with them, every day.

“I’m going to give you the life I promised you,” Cyrus says, his lips brushing against my skin, sending flashes of heat through my core. “We’re going to be happy, Logan.”

I smile, leaning forward. I touch my lips to his. “I am happy,” I say quietly. “I love the life we have had.”

He reaches a hand up, brushing his fingers along my jaw as he kisses me, deeper. Longer.

After all this time, it’s finally our time. Time for us.

No more fighting. No more leading. No more making rules and laws. No more balls and politics and walking on eggshells.

It’s just now.

It’s our time.

Logan and Cyrus. Until the end.