Chapter 23
CALYPSO
P ain explodes through my body in waves, sharp and unrelenting.
It’s not the kind of pain I know how to fight, not the kind I can grit my teeth and push through.
This isn’t like taking a hit, like a blade slicing across my skin or the dull ache of bruised ribs after a fight.
This is raw. This is brutal. This is ripping me apart from the inside.
My fingers are tangled in Farris’s cut, clutching the worn leather like a lifeline.
My breath is coming in short, shallow gasps as the motorcycle roars down the highway.
The world around us is a blur of flashing lights, darkened roads, and the distant wail of sirens from the burning battlefield we left behind.
The war we just walked out of isn’t over for me.
It’s just begun. All I can focus on is the crushing pressure in my belly and the fire searing through my spine.
Another contraction grips me, white-hot agony rolling through my belly, stealing what little air I have left. Fuck, this hurts. I let out a strangled moan, my nails digging into Farris’s chest, trying to ground myself through the storm of pain crashing over me.
Farris’s arm is locked around me like steel, his grip tight, unyielding, keeping me pressed against his chest as he weaves between cars, pushing the bike harder, faster. His voice is rough against the wind, laced with worry he doesn’t even try to hide. “Breathe, Lyp. I got you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my body curling inward as another contraction hits. The pressure is unbearable, squeezing the life out of me, leaving me panting and trembling.
“If you tell me to breathe one more time,” I grind out between clenched teeth, “I will throw myself off this goddamn bike.”
Farris lets out a low growl, his hold on me tightening. “Yeah? You and what fucking strength?”
Before I can fire back, another contraction tears through me. The pain is so intense, so consuming, it shatters my thoughts, leaving me gasping against his chest.
My body isn’t just laboring, it’s fighting me. The exhaustion from the battle, the stress, the Lupus, it’s all catching up, pulling me under. My body wasn’t built for this kind of war. Not now. Not when I need it to hold strong.
Farris curses under his breath and grips the throttle tighter, pushing the bike faster. The engine roars beneath us, vibrations rattling through my bones. “Hold on, baby. We’re almost there.”
Behind us, I hear the growl of motorcycles, a symphony of roaring engines cutting through the night. The Royal Bastards and the Royal Harlots, our family. They just fought a war beside me, and now they’re fighting to get me to the hospital alive.
I don’t know how long the ride lasts, only that it feels like an eternity. By the time Farris jerks the bike to a stop, the sharp screech of tires cutting through the night, I’m barely hanging on.
Farris is off the bike before I can even move. Strong arms scoop me up like I weigh nothing. My head lolls against his shoulder, and for a second, I catch a glimpse of the ER doors swinging open, the harsh fluorescent lights bleeding into the darkness.
“Help her! She’s in labor!” Farris’s voice is sharp, demanding, cutting through the noise like a blade.
People rush toward us, voices blending, hands grabbing at me, shifting me onto a gurney. The world tilts, blinding lights overhead, white walls streaking past.
I reach for Farris, panic clawing at my chest, but he’s right there. His fingers find mine, strong, steady, keeping me tethered. “I’m right here, baby,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. His blue eyes burn into mine, fierce and unshakable. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A mask is pressed over my face, and cool oxygen is rushing into my lungs. My body is trembling, drenched in sweat, but I still feel cold.
A nurse is shouting something. Words I can’t quite understand, but I catch bits and pieces, pre-eclampsia, Lupus, blood pressure too high, emergency.
The word slices through me.
No. No, no, no. I try to say something, to move, to fight, but my body won’t respond. It’s like I’m sinking, the edges of my vision darkening, the sounds of the hospital warping, stretching into something distant, muffled.
I can’t feel my hands or my legs.
A rush of heat floods my body, followed by an icy chill. My ears ring, and my heart is hammering so fast it feels like it’s about to explode out of my chest.
Farris’s grip tightens. “Lyp, baby, stay with me.” His voice wavers. I’ve never heard fear in his voice before. Not like this.
I try. I swear I try, but the world tilts, the edges collapsing in on themselves. The last thing I hear is the rapid beeping of my heart monitor, too fast, too erratic, before it cuts to a single, deafening tone.
Everything goes black.