Chapter 20
CALYPSO
I ’ve fought battles my whole damn life. I fought my way out of the streets. I fought against every bastard who ever tried to put their hands on me. I fought for my club, my girls, and my freedom. And now? Now, I’m fighting for my baby, for Farris, for us.
This fight is different because I don’t know who the hell I’m fighting yet.
Allura’s words keep bouncing around in my skull as I sit in the common room, trying to breathe past the dull ache in my joints, past the steady throb of exhaustion from my last flare-up. Someone’s been asking around about me, and it’s not Dave Train’s people.
I press a hand against my stomach, steadying myself.
This isn’t just about me anymore. This isn’t just my fight.
I don’t get the luxury of going in fists-first like I always have, not with this baby growing inside me.
Not when I have more to lose than I ever have before, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and let some faceless enemy decide my fate.
I need to know who the hell I’m dealing with, and I need to know now.
Allura stands by the bar, phone in hand, her expression dark as sin. She’s already working her contacts, already digging, because that’s what she does. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t wait for war to come to her, she takes the fight straight to the enemy.
“Tell me,” I say, my voice steady. “What do we know?”
She exhales through her nose, her jaw tightening. “Not enough. Someone’s been sniffing around, asking about you, but they’re careful as hell. Not sloppy like Train’s people.”
I swallow hard, an uneasy feeling twisting in my gut. “Could be someone from my past.” My voice is steady, but my mind is already running through the list of people who might still hold a grudge.
Allura shakes her head. “Not likely. We’ve had eyes on all the usual suspects. Nothing’s moved in months.”
A cold sensation curls along my spine. “Then it’s not about me,” I mutter more to myself than to her.
Allura doesn’t say anything, but I see the realization settle into her sharp green eyes. She’s already put it together and, suddenly, so have I.
It’s about Farris.
I push to my feet, ignoring the dull ache in my body. “Who the hell did he piss off?”
Allura tucks her phone into her pocket. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
I find Farris where I always do when he’s dealing with too much shit at once, out by his bike, smoking a cigarette, muscles tight with barely leashed rage. He only started to smoke recently due to the stress of everything going on around us.
He feels me before he sees me. I watch the way his back stiffens, the way his hand tightens around the cigarette before he exhales, turning to face me.
“Thought you were resting,” he says, voice rough.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” I shoot back. “Right now, we’ve got bigger problems.” His jaw flexes, his blue eyes stormy as hell. I step closer, crossing my arms. “Who is it, Farris?”
His eyes flick to mine, and something sharp cuts through them. “I don’t know.”
He’s lying. Not outright, but I know him. I know when he’s holding something back when he’s already put the pieces together but doesn’t want to say it out loud.
“We promised no more lies, Farris. I’m doing my part. Now, it’s your turn to do yours.” Frustration flares hot in my chest. “Bullshit. You have an idea, so spill.”
He curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “It could be someone from my time as a detective,” he finally admits. “Someone I put away, or someone I worked with.”
My stomach twists. “You mean someone dirty?”
He nods. “Yeah. And if it’s the latter, we’re in deeper shit than I thought.”
I process that for a second, letting the weight of it sink in. Cops are dangerous, but dirty cops are lethal.
“Who, Farris?” I press. “Give me a name.”
He hesitates for a moment. “Michael Reyes.” The name hits like a bullet. Even I know that name.
Michael Reyes. Former LAPD. Ex-detective and the kind of corrupt bastard that makes other corrupt bastards look like saints.
Farris arrested him a couple of years ago, caught in the middle of some dirty arms deal that tied back to the Black Market Railroad.
The same Black Market Railroad we just wiped off the goddamn map.
Farris had locked up plenty of people over the years, but guys like this, they never stay gone for long.
“You think he’s the one looking for me?” I ask, voice tight.
“I think,” Farris exhales, dragging another hit from his cigarette, “that if he’s out, he’s looking for payback. And he knows the best way to get to me is through you.”
I press my hand to my belly, my pulse thumping hard. I know how to handle men like Dave Train. Men who fight with their fists. But Reyes? He fights with leverage. He fights with power, and right now, my body is not at full strength. My pregnancy, my Lupus, they’re both working against me.
I don’t have the luxury of charging into this like I usually would by kicking ass and then taking names. We need to be smart. We need a plan.
“What are you thinking?” Farris eyes me cautiously. I don’t blame him since I usually act first and then think about the consequences. Since there is more than just me, I have to be smart.
I lift my chin. “We get ahead of him.”
Farris arches a brow. “What?”
I cross my arms. “We find him first. We don’t let him dictate the terms of this fight.”
Farris looks like he wants to argue, but deep down, he knows I’m right. He blows out smoke, shaking his head. “You’re not running into this headfirst, Calypso.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Farris.”
He steps closer, voice lowering. “You’re pregnant.” His voice cracks just a little on the word. I exhale. Yeah, I am, and it changes things, but it doesn’t make me weak. “Let me handle it,” he says. “Let me do what I do best.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my fears coming to the surface. “And what if you get yourself killed?” I ask softly. That’s the real risk here.
Farris’s jaw clenches, and I refuse to lose him. I take his hand and place it over my stomach, letting him feel the steady curve, the warmth of our child growing inside me.
“We do this together,” I whisper. “Like we always should.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he doesn’t pull away. Finally, Farris nods. “Alright.”
Reyes is out there, and he’s looking for me. Now I know exactly what we’re up against, but he doesn’t know who the hell he’s dealing with because I’m not the same woman I was before.
I’m stronger. I have a family to protect, and I will burn Reyes’s world to the ground before I let him take anything from me.
Pregnant or not, sick or not, I am still a goddamn warrior.
The weight of it all settles over me like a storm cloud ready to break.
Michael Reyes is out there, hunting me. Not because of anything I did but because Farris took down a dirty cop and put him behind bars.
Because Farris is the best kind of dangerous, a man who doesn’t bend, who doesn’t break, who doesn’t back down from a fight even when the odds are stacked against him.
This bastard thinks he can come after us?
After my family? He’s got another thing coming.
I grip Farris’s wrist tighter, my fingers press into his skin, anchoring myself to him, holding him closer through the storm building around us. I feel the tension in him, the way his body is coiled tight like a predator ready to strike.
His blue eyes flick to mine, searching, stormy. “We’ll handle it.”
I nod because I know he means it. Because Farris isn’t the kind of man to say shit just to make me feel better. If he says we’re handling it, then it’s already decided.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the weight of the battle coming. It doesn’t mean I don’t ache for something to hold onto before the war starts.
Farris is still watching me, his hand slipping from my belly to my waist, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles. “You okay?”
I swallow hard. “I need to not think for a little while.”
His jaw tightens. “You want a distraction?”
I shake my head. “No. I want you.”
The second the words leave my lips, Farris moves. One moment, I’m standing in the open air of the clubhouse lot, the night wind curling around us, and the next, he’s pulling me into him, his body heat overwhelming, his hands strong and steady as they grip my waist.
“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my temple. “Always.”
That’s all it takes for my control to break. I fist my hands in his cut, tugging him down to me, crashing my mouth against his in a kiss that’s all fire and desperation. It’s hot and messy, our teeth clashing, tongues tangling, like we’re trying to devour each other whole.
His hands move. One curling around the back of my neck, the other sliding under my shirt, his palm scorching against my bare skin. I moan against his mouth, needing more, needing everything.
Farris pulls back just enough to look at me, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with something wild. “My room. Now.”
I don’t argue.
We hurry into the Clubhouse and ignore everyone around us as we make our way to Farris’s bedroom. The door barely closes behind us before Farris is on me.
His hands yank off my cut and t-shirt in one swift movement. He grips my thighs, hoisting me up as he spins and pins me against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my breath leaving me in a sharp gasp as my back meets the solid surface.
Farris’s mouth is everywhere. My lips, my jaw, my throat. He’s feverish, desperate, kissing me like he’s starving for me, like he needs me the same way I need him.
I tug at his cut, pushing it off his shoulders, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. “Off,” I breathe against his lips.
Farris groans, his hands leaving my body just long enough to rip the damn shirt over his head before he’s back on me, his bare chest pressing against mine, hot, hard, and perfect.
“You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs, his voice rough, his hands gentle as they brush over my stomach.
I grab his face, forcing him to look at me. “I need this. I need you.”
Farris curses under his breath before crashing his mouth back onto mine.
His fingers immediately find my breasts, teasing, kneading, owning. I arch into him, my breath hitching when his mouth follows, lips and tongue dragging down my throat, over my collarbone, until he bites at the sensitive skin just above my bra.
I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Farris.”
He groans at the sound of his name, the vibrations running through me as he sucks a mark onto my skin.
He releases me from the wall as his hands move to my leggings, yanking them down in one swift motion, leaving me in nothing but my panties. He pauses for half a second, his eyes blazing as they rake over me, his jaw tightening like he’s barely holding himself together.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters, his voice almost reverent.
Before I can respond, he drops to his knees. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open, his lips pressing just above the lace of my panties.
“Farris,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He smirks against my skin. “You need me to take care of you, baby?”
I nod, my body trembling. Farris hooks his fingers into my panties and tears them off. Then he’s on me, devouring me, licking and sucking like he’s a man starved.
I shatter. My body bows, my breath breaking, my fingers tightening in his hair as he drags me over the edge again and again until I’m whimpering his name, begging him for more.
Farris rises to his feet, his hands gripping my ass as he lifts me again, pressing me back against the wall, his jeans unbuttoned, he’s hard and throbbing against my soaked core. He grinds against me, teasing, torturing, making me whimper with need.
“I need you inside me,” I breathe. “Now.”
Farris growls. He shoves his jeans and boxers down, lining up with my entrance, his hands tightening on my hips as he thrusts into me with one slow, deep stroke. I cry out, my nails raking down his back.
“Fuck,” he groans against my neck, his body shaking. “You feel so good, baby.”
I grip his face, forcing his eyes to mine. “Move.”
Farris doesn’t hesitate. His hips snap forward, his pace hard and deep and perfect. Every thrust sends pleasure coiling low in my stomach, building, tightening, overwhelming.
“Farris,” I gasp, my body tightening around him.
He curses, his movements turning almost brutal, like he’s staking his claim all over again. “You’re mine,” he growls. “Say it.”
I whimper, arching into him. “I’m yours.”
He presses a hand to my stomach, his lips brushing mine. “Both of you.”
Tears sting my eyes, the emotion hitting me just as hard as the pleasure. “Yes.”
I’m falling, spiraling, shattering apart in his arms, my release hitting me so hard I see stars. Farris groans, thrusting deep one last time before he buries himself inside me, coming with a raw, broken moan.
His forehead drops to mine, both of us panting, wrecked, holding onto each other like we’ll never let go, and we won’t because we just survived hell. We just found our way back to each other. No matter what comes next, no matter who comes for us, we’re in this together.
And I’ll fight for that.
For him.
For our baby.
For us.