Chapter 19
FARRIS
I t’s been three months since Calypso was shot. Three months since I found out about our baby. Three months of watching the strongest woman I’ve ever met fight like hell for me, for our kid, and herself. And now? We’re still figuring shit out.
We’ve been bouncing between clubhouses, caught in the pull of two different worlds, trying to find the balance. I think we need a house somewhere halfway between her club and mine. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that’s ours.
That’s why I’m here in Red’s IT room, going over locations and logistics while Calypso rests. She wasn’t feeling well earlier, so I let her sleep while I handled shit.
“That should do it,” Red mutters, typing away. “I’ll run the search and send you anything solid.”
I clap him on the back. “Appreciate it, brother. Let me know.”
I head back to my room, and the second I open the door, I know something’s wrong before Calypso even says a word. She’s tough as hell, but even she has her limits, and right now, she’s hitting them hard.
She’s curled up on my bed at the clubhouse, her skin pale, sweat dampening her temples. Her breathing is uneven, her fingers gripping the blanket like it’s the only thing holding her together. The stubborn set of her jaw tells me she’s trying to tough it out. I hate seeing her like this.
Crouching in front of her, I reach out, but she flinches like even my touch is too much. “Lyp,” I say, my voice low, steady, trying like hell to keep the panic out of it. “Talk to me.”
She swallows hard, her lips parting, but no words come out. Just a shaky exhale that makes my gut twist.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face. “Is it the pain? Your joints?” She gives me a weak nod, her eyes glassy with exhaustion. “And the fever?” Another nod.
I press the back of my hand to her forehead, and Jesus Christ, she’s burning up. “Baby, why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner?” My voice comes out harsher than I mean, frustration and fear twisting together.
She lets out a bitter chuckle, but it’s breathy and weak. “Because I knew you’d act like this.”
“Like what?” I growl.
“Like you’re about to lose your goddamn mind.”
I don’t answer because she’s right. Instead, I do the only thing I can, I act. I grab the water bottle from the table and press it into her shaking hands. “Drink.”
She tries, but her hands are trembling so badly that she can’t hold it. That’s when I really start to fucking panic. I take the bottle from her, twisting the cap off and tilting it to her lips myself. She takes slow sips, wincing, like even that’s too much effort.
“You need to eat something,” I say, my voice tight. “You’ve barely kept anything down.”
She exhales sharply. “It’s not just that, Farris.” Her voice is hoarse, raw, and fuck, she sounds so damn tired. I know what she’s not saying. It’s the baby.
My stomach turns. I move beside her, my hand pressing gently over her belly. “Tell me what you need, Cal.”
Her fingers cover mine, her touch barely there. “It’s just… a bad… flare. It happens.”
I grit my teeth. “I don’t give a shit if it ‘happens.’ You’re pregnant, Calypso. You’re carrying my kid. And I’m not letting you fight through this alone.”
She blinks up at me, and for the first time since this started, her tough exterior cracks. Her lips tremble, and her body tenses like she’s holding herself together by sheer will.
I wrap my arms around her carefully, pulling her against my chest, letting her feel me. Solid. Unwavering. “I got you, baby,” I murmur against her hair. “I’ve always got you.”
She exhales a shaky breath, sinking into me. “I hate this.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “I know.”
She shifts slightly, her hands resting over mine where they’re cradling her belly. “I don’t want to be weak.”
I tighten my grip, my voice dropping to a rough whisper. “You’re not weak, Calypso. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever fucking met.”
She doesn’t argue because she knows I’m right. She’s not facing this fight alone, not anymore.
The further along she gets, the worse the flare-ups become.
According to the doctors, she has twelve weeks left.
Twelve weeks of watching her struggle with pain.
Twelve weeks of watching her face light up when the baby kicks.
Twelve weeks of wondering if she’ll carry to term.
High risks. Complications. A chance she won’t make it.
Those words cut deeper than any bullet ever could.
She might be tough as hell, but even she can’t hide how wrecked she is.
She tries to act like she has it under control, throwing out sharp comments and half-smirks like armor, but I see it.
The flicker of fear in her eyes, the hesitation in her voice when she told me about what having Lupus meant for the pregnancy.
I’ve been shot, broken bones, lost blood in the streets.
None of that shit even comes close to the fear curling like barbed wire in my gut.
This isn’t something I can put a bullet in.
This isn’t a fight I know how to win. I can’t fix this and that thought alone makes me want to burn the whole fucking world down.
I stand outside the Clubhouse, my boots grinding into the pavement, fists clenched at my sides.
The night air is cool, but it doesn’t do shit to ease the fire burning under my skin.
I should be in there with her, holding her, telling her it’ll be okay.
But I needed a goddamn minute to breathe because I’m fucking terrified.
A flick of a lighter snaps me out of my thoughts. Blayze leans against the wall beside me, cigarette dangling from his lips. He watches me through the smoke, his expression unreadable. “You look like you’re about to punch through a wall.”
I exhale sharply. “Feels about right.”
He takes a long drag before speaking. “So, she told you?”
I nod, my jaw locking tight. “Yeah. She told me.”
Silence stretches between us. He doesn’t push or ask if I’m okay because he knows I’m not. “She’s a fighter, Law Dog,” he finally says. “She’s not gonna go down without one.”
I scrape a hand through my hair. “She shouldn’t have to fight at all.”
Blayze scoffs. “You think you can protect her from this?”
I snap my head toward him, my rage bubbling just beneath the surface. “I protect what’s mine.”
Blayze shakes his head. “This isn’t a gunfight, brother. You can’t just shoot the problem and call it a day.” I know that. That’s the worst fucking part.
Calypso isn’t just my woman anymore, she’s carrying my kid. Every decision she makes from now on affects both of them. And Lupus? It’s a battle inside her own body, and I have no way to fight it for her but I’ll be damned if I let her fight it alone.
I push off the wall, turning toward the entrance. “I need to get back.”
Blayze doesn’t stop me. Just takes another drag and exhales. “Yeah, you do.”
The clubhouse is buzzing, people talking in low voices, but I don’t hear any of it. All I care about is the woman sitting on the couch, Allura beside her, the glow of the lamp casting shadows across her face.
She’s paler than she should be, dark circles under her eyes, but the second she looks up at me, there’s fire there.
My chest tightens. She’s mine. My fighter. My woman.
I drop onto the couch beside her, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, my thumb brushing her pulse. “We need to talk.”
Allura sighs and stands. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
The second she’s gone, Calypso shifts, angling her body toward me, her lips pressing together. She’s bracing for a fight.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her, voice rough. “I need you to know that.”
She exhales, her fingers resting on my knee. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Good.” I nod, then lower my voice. “But you need to be honest with me from now on. No more fucking secrets.”
Her throat bobs. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out, Farris.”
“I don’t care what you were trying to do,” I cut in. “That’s not how this works. We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.”
Calypso watches me for a long moment, then finally nods. “Okay.”
But before I can say anything else, Allura storms back into the room, her expression deadly serious. “We’ve got a problem.”
I’m already on my feet, instinct kicking in. “What now?”
Allura’s eyes flick to Calypso before locking on me. “Word just came in. Someone’s been asking around about her. And it’s not Dave Train’s people.”
My blood turns to ice. “Who?”
Allura shakes her head. “Not sure yet. But whoever they are, they’re not locals. They’re looking for her. For you. And they’re not fucking friendly.”
My hands curl into fists. I just got my family back . Now there’s another goddamn threat.
I turn to Calypso, who’s already trying to sit up straighter. “Stay here,” I order.
She glares at me. “Not a chance in hell.”
I grit my teeth. Here we go again. This isn’t just about her anymore. This is about our kid and I’ll be damned if I let anything touch them.