Chapter 16
CALYPSO
I don’t look back when I leave the Royal Bastards' Clubhouse. I don’t let myself.
If I do, I’ll lose my nerve and turn right the fuck around.
I’ll crawl right back into Farris’s arms and forget everything.
Forget that I’m lying to him, forget that my past is hunting me down, and forget that the world around us is about to burn.
So I ride. The wind whips against my skin, sharp and biting, but I barely feel it. My mind is a goddamn battlefield.
By the time I pull into the Royal Harlots’ compound, I’m exhausted. My body aches, my nerves are frayed, and my stomach twists with the secret I’ve been carrying alone.
The second I cut the engine, the doors to the clubhouse burst open, and Allura steps out, arms crossed over her chest, a knowing look in her sharp green eyes.
"Well, look who finally decided to drag her ass home," she calls out, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
I roll my eyes, swinging my leg off my bike. “Don’t start with me, Allura.”
She quirks a brow. "Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t even gotten started."
I push past her, heading inside, knowing damn well she’s right on my heels.
The clubhouse is loud as hell, music blasting, girls laughing, bottles clinking, their man candy at their beck and call, but it all fades into the background as I make my way to Allura’s office.
I can still smell Farris all over my skin. I can feel him between my thighs. I squeeze my eyes shut and steady my nerves. “Allura,” I say, my voice quiet but firm. “We need to talk. Now.”
That gets her attention. The teasing look in her eyes disappears, replaced by something sharper. Allura doesn’t say a word, just follows me inside her office and locks the door behind us.
I don’t sit. I can’t. My pulse is hammering in my ears, and I feel like I might fucking explode if I don’t get this out.
Allura leans against the wall, arms still crossed. "Spill it."
I take a deep breath. Fuck. Just say it. “I’m pregnant.” The words hang between us like a live grenade, the pin already pulled.
Allura doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. She just tilts her head slightly, processing, calculating. Waiting for me to keep going.
I swallow hard, dragging a hand through my hair. “And I told Farris I wasn’t.”
Now she reacts. Her brows shoot up, and her lips part slightly before she lets out a low whistle. "Shit."
I let out a bitter laugh, pacing the length of the room. "Yeah. Shit."
Allura pushes off the wall, stepping into my path, stopping me. Her hands land on my shoulders, firm but grounding, keeping me from spiraling.
“Alright. Let’s break this down,” she says, voice steady and in control. "You’re pregnant, and you lied to Farris about it. Why?"
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Because he already has too much on his plate. Because the club is hunting my ex. Because the Black Market Railroad and the Bloody Femmes are circling like fucking vultures. Because I don’t know how the hell to tell him when everything is already falling apart."
Allura exhales sharply. “Calypso…”
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face, cutting her off. “He’s going to hate me.”
Allura scoffs. "Oh, sweetheart, that man is so deep in his feelings for you, he’d walk through fire with a fucking grin on his face if it means keeping you safe."
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “Yeah, well, that’s the problem.”
Her gaze sharpens. "What aren’t you telling me?"
I hesitate. Just for a second. But that’s all Allura needs. Her entire body tenses, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Calypso. Spill."
I let out a slow, shaky breath. “I’m not supposed to know, but Farris is using himself as bait.”
Silence fills the room. The kind of silence that precedes a storm.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Allura’s voice is sharp enough to cut glass. Her expression darkens, her entire body coiled with tension.
I nod, my throat tight. "He didn’t tell me. I found out right before I left."
Allura mutters a string of curses under her breath, pacing now. “That stubborn, reckless, stupid son of a bitch.” She stops, exhaling harshly before turning back to me, her expression unreadable. “What’s the plan?”
I blink. “What?”
“The plan,” she repeats, tilting her head. "Because there’s no way in hell we’re letting your baby’s daddy go out there alone. And there’s definitely no way you’re keeping this secret forever."
I let out a slow, unsteady breath. She’s right. I know she’s right, but before I can say another word, the door slams open, and French comes barreling inside, her face pale as hell.
“Prez!” she gasps, chest heaving. “We got a problem.”
My stomach drops. “What is it?” I demand, already moving.
French’s eyes shift between me and Allura, panic creeping into her expression. “It’s your ex, Calypso.”
The air leaves the room. I go stone still. “What about him?”
French swallows hard. “He’s not alone.”
Ice floods my veins. “The Bloody Femmes,” she says, voice tight. “They’re here. And they’re not just watching anymore.”
Allura curses violently, grabbing her gun.
I don’t hesitate. I storm toward the door, my rage boiling over into something lethal because I’m done running. And if Dave Train wants to make this a fucking war?
Then he’s about to find out just how deadly I can be.
The clubhouse erupts in chaos the moment the news sinks in. French’s words hang in the air like a death sentence, and the room feels smaller, suffocating. Allura’s eyes snap to me, her expression hardening, and I can see the gears in her mind turning, plotting our next move.
“Where are they?” I demand. My voice is low but sharp, steel threading through my tone. I’m not waiting for some half-assed answer. This isn’t a situation to tiptoe around.
French’s lips tremble. “We don’t know exactly. They’re moving fast, though. We’ve got eyes on the perimeter, but they’re…”
“They’re fucking with us,” I finish for her, already striding toward the gun locker. The cold steel of my weapons calms my nerves, my heartbeat syncing with the familiar rhythm of battle. I don’t have time to second-guess this anymore.
Allura steps forward, cutting off my path. “You’re not going in alone. This is bigger than just you and Farris now, Calypso. We’ve got to act fast and smart.”
I pull away from her, my pulse spiking. My fists clench at my sides, and my breathing is ragged. I shouldn’t care this much. I shouldn’t fucking feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest at the thought of losing him.
But I do.
“Farris is going to get himself fucking killed.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. Hate that Allura sees right through me. Hate that my body still aches from his touch, and now I might never get another chance. I suck in a sharp breath, forcing my walls back up. “We need to move. Now.”
Allura doesn’t flinch, even though she’s just as concerned. She watches me with cold, calculating eyes. “And if you run out there without backup, you’ll end up dead. There’s more than just you now, Calypso.”
I meet her gaze, and for a second, I hesitate. She’s right. I can’t go off half-cocked, not with this kind of danger lurking. The Bloody Femmes don’t just settle for intimidation. They kill, they maim, they destroy lives, and Dave Train? He’s a goddamn monster.
“We need to hit them hard,” I fume, the tension in my body coiling tighter. “We need to hit them fast.”
Allura nods, already pulling her phone from her pocket and dialing someone.
She speaks in clipped sentences, barking orders, her military precision kicking in.
“We need you in on this. We have to hit the Femmes where they don’t expect it.
” She pauses, listening intently, then adds, “I’ll contact Lemon from our Irish connections. We need all the firepower we can get.”
French looks torn but determined, like she’s ready to get her hands dirty. “And Farris?” she asks, her voice strained with concern.
“All I know is Farris better not do anything stupid,” I growl. “And if he’s out there on his own, I swear to God, I’ll kill him myself before Dave gets the chance.”
The door to the office bursts open again, and this time, it’s Farris who stands there, looking every bit like the stubborn, reckless asshole I’m trying to protect. His eyes lock onto mine, searching for something, maybe an answer, maybe my forgiveness.
How the fuck did he get here so fast?
“You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice hoarse, desperate. “I knew what I was getting into.”
I shake my head, frustration welling up inside me. “Farris, this isn’t your fight. It’s too dangerous. The Bloody Femmes and the Black Market Railroad, they’re not fucking around. Dave’s got the Femmes in his back pocket, and they’re ready to burn everything we’ve built to the ground.”
He steps closer, ignoring the tension between us. “I’m in this with you, Calypso. You don’t get to walk away from me, not now.” His voice softens, but the raw edge of urgency still lingers. “And I’m not letting them take you from me. We fight together, or not at all.”
I stare at him, feeling the weight of every word.
The truth is, I need him. More than I want to admit, but I can’t afford to be weak right now.
I try to push past him, but Farris grabs my wrist, pulling me back just enough to force me to meet his eyes.
His grip is firm and solid. A reminder that no matter how much I fight him, he’s not letting me go.
“Calypso,” he says, low and raw. “You think I’d survive a world where you weren’t in it?”
I swallow hard, my pulse pounding. That’s the fucking problem.
“You better be ready for this, Law Dog,” I warn him. “Because once we go in, there’s no turning back. Our clubs are going to war.”
A sudden crash outside the office has us all tensing. A split second later, the smell of gasoline and smoke curls into the air.
“Fucking hell.” French curses, sprinting for the window. Her face goes pale. “It’s them.”
I whip around just in time to see the fire flickering outside, spreading fast. A charred piece of cloth hangs out of a broken window. A Molotov cocktail, still burning. The message is clear: They’re not waiting for us to come for them.
They’re already here.
The lights flicker as someone slams open the door, and a grim-faced Lemon steps in, guns blazing. “We’ve got a problem,” he snarls, his jaw tight with fury. “The Femmes hit one of our spots. Took out some of our brothers.”
Allura doesn’t miss a beat. “How many?”
“Too damn many,” Lemon growls, his thick Irish accent punctuated with rage. “They’ve got the numbers on us, but they don’t know who they’re dealing with. You’ve got to move, now.”
I exchange a look with Farris, and for the first time in days, there’s no hesitation between us. This is it. The line has been drawn in the sand. We’re not backing down. Not now. Not ever.
“Call the Royal Bastards,” I order, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Get them in motion. We’re hitting the Femmes hard, and we’re not just bringing Dave Train down,” I say, my voice low, deadly. “We’re burning his entire fucking world to the ground.”