Chapter 259 - 259: 259 | Road Trip

<🎧 Song Recommendation: Atonement by Godwin, KITSCHKRIEG>

...

Emily looked up at him, surprised by the sudden tenderness in his eyes, before a soft blush colored her cheeks.

"I told you... it's my job," she said quietly.

"Doesn't mean I take it for granted," Von replied, his voice firm and sincere. "Now go pack your travel bag. You're sleeping the entire way to Orlando, and that's an executive order."

Emily shook her head with an amused smile. "Yes, boss."

***

[1:45 AM — Loading Bay, Kaseya Center]

The arena loading dock was a cavern of diesel fumes, backup beepers, and shouting riggers.

Fourteen fifty three foot semi trucks sat backed against the concrete bays with their hazard lights blinking on as heavy ramps took the brunt of the rolling road cases.

The local crew was stripping the venue down to the bare concrete, loading trusses, lighting racks, and backline steel as quick as they could.

Parked in a clean row along the wall was the fleet. It consisted of four black entertainer star coaches running quietly on venue shore power.

"Why buses, though?" Max asked, hauling his heavy duffle bag up the narrow steps behind David. "Von's a platinum artist. We could've chartered private jets to every city."

David didn't even turn around as he led the way inside.

"Because a private jet doesn't haul two hundred tons of staging and sound equipment, genius," David said flatly.

"Commercial flights mean airport security, lost luggage, delays, and zero rest. On a tour, the convoy rolls at two in the morning while everybody is in bed. You sleep on the highway, and you wake up parked inside tomorrow's venue without losing a single working hour. That's how tours actually function."

Max sighed over David's explanation and kept on walking.

The lead coach was reserved for the core circle: Von, Emily, Alex, Conor, Max, David, and a professional driver.

Up front was the galley with a wrap-around leather booth and kitchenette. Past a sliding pocket door was a narrow, carpeted hallway lined with six sleeping bunks stacked two-high, each fitted with a privacy curtain. At the far rear sat a compact private lounge.

Emily walked in right behind David carrying her travel tote. Her eyes were glued to her phone screen as she typed out something to someone.

Von stepped into the aisle, reached out, and gently took the phone right out of her hand.

"Hey," Emily blinked, looking up at him in surprise.

"What did I tell you backstage?" Von asked with a small smile. "Screen time is over. Go to bed, now."

Emily stared at her empty hands, then looked up at Von's firm expression. A soft, tired laugh slipped past her lips as she shook her head.

"You're just too bossy for someone whose schedule I manage."

"Go to sleep, Em," Von said softly, nudging her toward her berth on the lower right. "David and the driver have the road."

"Fine," she murmured, slipping off her shoes and climbing into the bunk. She pulled the dark velvet curtain shut, and within minutes, her side of the hall was completely quiet.

With Emily down in her bed, the guys sorted out the remaining bunks. Across the aisle, Max took the bottom bunk, while Conor climbed up the narrow ladder into the top berth above him. On Emily's side, Alex claimed the lower bunk, leaving the top bunk above him for Von.

Outside, the heavy diesel engine rumbled to life beneath the floor. The air brakes released and at 2:15 AM, the lead coach rolled out of the underground dock, leading the convoy onto the empty highway toward the Florida Turnpike.

Everyone settled in, drawing their curtains to knock out.

Max, however, was not having it.

He lay on his back in the lower bunk, his curtain pulled wide open as he stared at the narrow ceiling six inches above his nose.

"Yo," Max whispered loudly into the dark hallway. "Is anyone actually tired? Because I'm wide awake. We can't just go to sleep, bro. It's our first official night on the road! We need team bonding. Who's got cards? Let's play trivia. Or twenty questions."

From the bunk directly above him, Conor groaned into his mattress.

"Max, shut up," Conor mumbled, throwing an arm over his pillow. "Some of us played drums for two hours straight."

"I danced for two hours too, Conor!" Max argued, poking his head out into the aisle. "Alex, you awake? Let's do a low-volume rap battle. Two bars each—"

The curtain of the bottom bunk opposite him snapped open.

Alex didn't sit up. He simply turned his head on his pillow. His dark hair was messy across his forehead, and he fixed Max with a pair of icy, deadpan eyes that could have frozen water.

"Go to sleep already," Alex said with a very low voice.

Max shrank back into his mattress, holding a hand to his chest. "Eeish. Thought you dropped your scary side, man. Chill."

Above Alex, the top bunk curtain slid back with a soft rustle.

Von leaned over the wooden edge with his arms folded.

He stared down at Max in dead silence. He did not have to say a word, he just raised one eyebrow and pinned Max with an unblinking, heavy stare.

Max looked from Alex's cold glare to Von's flat stare, realizing he was completely outmatched. He slowly raised both hands up in the narrow space.

"Okay. Okay. My bad," Max whispered with playful fear, rapidly pulling his curtain shut. "I apologize. I'm going to sleep now."

From the top bunk, Conor let out a muffled snort of laughter. "Goodnight, fellas."

"Night," Alex muttered, sliding his curtain closed.

The bunk hallway finally fell into silence.

Von lay back against his pillow in the top bunk, pulling the blanket up. A soft rustle came from the foot of the bed, and a sleek black shape padded across the duvet. Loki stepped onto his chest, circled once, and curled into a tight, warm ball of fur.

The Void Lynx gave a deep, contented sigh, her steady purr vibrating against Von's ribs.

Von rested a hand over the cat's back, staring up at the dark ceiling as the coach swayed gently with the curves of the turnpike.

Twenty-four shows left. Twenty-four unique nights to build, perform, and survive without letting the standard drop.

'This is gonna be a long month,' Von thought quietly with a smile.

He closed his eyes, let the rhythm of the highway take him, and drifted off into sleep.

***

A sudden, hard lurch of the bus jolted Von awake.

The tires skidded against the road with a squeal and the momentum threw Von forward against the wooden frame of his bunk.

On his chest, Loki dug her claws straight into his shirt and let out a sharp, offended hiss into the dark.

"Easy, girl," Von whispered, gently detaching her claws and setting her down onto the mattress.

The engine was still running, idling in place with a low, heavy rumble.

Von grabbed his phone from under his pillow to check the screen time.

[4:18 AM.]

They weren't scheduled to arrive in Orlando until around six-thirty.

'What could be the issue?'

Von thought to himself before finally slipping out of the berth. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and dropped onto the carpeted aisle.

"Yo... what happened?" Max's muffled voice came from the lower bunk across the aisle, sounding like he was still filled with sleep. "Did we crash? Please tell me we're not stranded in the middle of nowhere."

"Please quiet down, Max," Emily grumbled from the upper bunk while throwing an arm over his eyes. "The bus is in one piece."

Across the way, Alex's curtain slid open a few inches.

Von gave him a quiet nod before motioning for everyone to stay put. He then walked down the narrow corridor toward the front cabin.

He slid the pocket door open and stepped into the front lounge.

The driver's cabin was completely empty to his surprise.

Von found that the steering wheel sat untouched and the keys were still resting in the ignition. Neither the driver nor David was anywhere inside the coach.

Instead, rhythmic flashes of harsh light cut through the front windshield.

Von stepped up to the front glass and looked outside.

The bus had been pulled onto the gravel shoulder of the Florida Turnpike, surrounded by dark trees and empty highway.

Parked along the road around their convoy were multiple state highway patrol cruisers and commercial enforcement trucks, their emergency lights strobing against the night.

And standing right in the center of the flashing glare on the asphalt were David and the bus driver.

Both of them had their hands raised in tense, heated gestures, completely surrounded by three uniformed commercial vehicle inspectors holding clipboards and blocking the lane.