Chapter 20
CALIX
I watched Rack disappear through the office doors like a storm barely being held together.
The second the door slammed shut, the tension he’d been carrying lingered in the room, sharp enough to taste.
And all I could think was, he’s a better man than me.
I’d never admitted that before, never even entertained it, but listening to them argue… hearing Olivia lay out the logic behind her plan while Rack fought against it with nothing but fear for her safety… I kept finding myself leaning toward her side.
That was the difference between us.
Rack loved with his whole chest, and I survived by winning.
The first step in becoming a Syndicate boss was to find a strong and capable second. The second step was to use everyone and anything at my disposal to win. For the Syndicate, for my family, for the greedy soul inside me that refused to lose.
Pushing off the desk, I lazily pointed toward the door Rack had just vanished through.
“He’s worried about you,” I said. “That’s all. Don’t take it to heart.”
My lips twitched faintly. “He cares so much he can’t stand even the possibility of danger being around you.”
“And you don’t?”
The question hit harder than it should have.
I immediately turned toward her, denial already climbing into my throat, but I stopped because the truth sat there waiting for me.
And because she wasn’t mine.
My jaw tightened.
I looked away before my face revealed too much.
“That's not true. I just…” Words caught in my throat. My heart squeezed, urging me to tell her the truth, to admit that I cared for her more than myself, but I bit my tongue, reminding myself who I was and who I was not. “I’m your maker, the one you should come to with your troubles, but also someone you can count on when you need someone to lean on. That kind of relationship takes time and trust. No better start than today, right?”
Half laughing, half cringing at myself, I made my way to the door, thinking of what to do first. Her voice stopped me in my tracks.
“I trust you, Calix.” The words stopped me mid-step, and I slowly turned, brows drawing together before I could stop them. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
She straightened as she said it, like she was bracing herself for me to argue. Her fingers twisted together tightly in front of her, knuckles paling from how hard she held on, but her gaze never left mine. Not once.
The air caught somewhere in my lungs, and for one stupid, dangerous second, I couldn’t do anything but stare at this woman.
Even with the glamor on, I could see her. The stubborn lift of her chin. The tension sitting in her shoulders despite the certainty in her voice.
Trust wasn’t something Olivia handed out easily.
I knew that now. Every instinct she had screamed survival, distance, and self-preservation, yet here she was, placing that trust in my hands like I wouldn’t break it.
Like I hadn’t already spent every second around her fighting the urge to ruin everything.
She trusted me? Really?
Before I could respond, she vanished into a blur of motion that shot across the room, then she was standing right beside me. Her fingertips landed lightly against my arm, so light I barely felt them, then her entire face lit up.
“Yes!” she burst out excitedly, dancing on her tippy toes. “I did it!” She looked absurdly proud of herself. “I got closer without crashing into you.”
I stared down at her, completely derailed by how cute she looked celebrating something so small.
Her grin washed every darker thought right out of my head. Fucking dangerous. That was how cute she was.
“That,” I said slowly, “is definitely the first thing we’re practicing.” I opened the door and motioned for her to follow. “You need to learn control before you accidentally put yourself through a wall.” She followed beside me while I led her deeper into the floor.
The further we walked, the wider the rooms became, open spaces built for weapons testing and explosive impact zones.
“Is this entire floor just one giant testing area?” she asked from behind me, turning her head everywhere at once.
“Pretty much.” I keyed open another secured door and stepped aside for her. “This is my favorite floor.”
Her eyes flicked toward me curiously, but I just smirked. “I like building things.” That earned me another surprised look.
As we walked, I pointed toward different sections.
“The third underground level handles planning and schematics. Theories, blueprints, prototype concepts.” She nodded seriously, cataloging everything. “The fourth floor handles parts fabrication and assembly, but most of us call it the S&G department.”
Looking back, her forehead got these little creases as she tried to piece together the meaning.
“Screws and Gears,” I explained.
“Oh!” Her eyes sparkled. “That sounds fun.” She looked around eagerly before turning back toward me. “When do I get to see it?”
An idea slid into my head. I stopped walking and pointed at her. “If you can run at top speed and stop with your nose barely touching the wall, I'll take you to that floor and let you run free.”
Her mouth dropped open immediately, and she practically bounced in place.
“No way. Seriously?”
I nodded once and stepped closer. My hands settled lightly on her shoulders while I leaned down near her face.
The scent of roses curled around me, and my gaze drifted to the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her shirt.
Black ink. Deep reds. Layered petals spiraling across her skin. It was hypnotic how the design made you fall into it without thinking. My thumb traced lightly over one of the roses, trying to crack the optical illusion that made them seem real.
Her eyes fell to where my finger lingered. “I got that to remind myself that this color doesn't always mean violence and blood. It could also be the color of something beautiful.”
My thumb paused, and she pulled away from me abruptly. A rough, humorless laugh escaped her. The sound was brittle around the edges, like she was breaking.
“Hard lesson to learn when your first childhood memory is sitting in a pool of it.”
The words hollowed out the room instantly. Her arms crossed tightly over herself while she rubbed at them absently. Her eyes became distant, as if she were reliving it somewhere in her mind.
“Everyone was just standing around trying to figure out what to do with the orphan nobody wanted.”
Something in my chest twisted violently. My heart couldn’t stand seeing that look on her face. That emptiness. That lonely ache sitting behind her eyes.
Before I could think better of it, I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her straight into my chest. She stiffened, but I only held on tighter, proving I wasn’t going anywhere.
“You belong here,” I murmured into her hair. “With us.”
Her shoulders stayed tense beneath my hands. Her arms were still protectively crossed between us, but I didn’t let go. I remembered exactly what that kind of loneliness felt like, and I refused to let her carry it alone anymore.
“I learned a long time ago that pain is a double-edged thing,” I murmured into her hair. “It can destroy you if you let it.” My arms tightened slightly around her. “Or it can carve you into something stronger.”
At first, she stayed stiff against me, like she was still expecting to be rejected if she leaned onto someone else too heavily.Then slowly, inch by inch, the tension began to melt out of her shoulders and she stepped closer.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to feel the shift.
“And that ache you carry around?” I continued softly. The breath that left her hitched halfway out, hitting something real. “That’s just a phantom.”
Her fingers curled slightly against my shirt.
“A reminder your mind drags around because it got used to surviving.” I pulled back enough to see her face.
“But this?” My hand gently slid across the tattoo along her shoulder. The blood-red petals woven into black ink. “This isn’t weakness.”
My thumb slowly traced one bloom.
“It’s armor.”
Her eyes dropped to where my hand rested.
“Armor that reminds you of your survival.” My voice softened further. “Armor meant to protect you from anyone who tries to convince you that you’re worthless.”
A shaky breath left her. The kind that sounded like someone finally setting down a weight they’d carried too long.
Her shoulders loosened more fully now, her expression softening around the edges as she looked down at my chest instead of hiding from me.
And fuck, something inside me swelled painfully at seeing her breathe easier.
Her head tipped upward again, curiosity flickering across her face before she spoke.
“Do you have one?”
For a second, I didn’t understand what she meant, then I realized her hands had settled against my chest sometime during all this. Her fingertips moved across me absentmindedly. Every tiny touch made my heartbeat slam harder.
“One what?” I asked. My voice came out rougher than intended.
A few strands of her hair shifted with each breath between us. Her fingers drifted down my arm, tracing over some of the older tattoos there.
“A tattoo of armor.”
The skin along my neck burned, the old magic reacting before my brain could catch up. My jaw tightened with the reminder.
I hadn’t wanted to talk about that. I never talked about that night or that woman. The pain of betrayal had sliced so deeply that night, but after everything she’d just handed me… keeping my own scars hidden suddenly felt cowardly.
“It’s not one you can see,” I admitted quietly.
Immediately, her eyes swept over me again like she could somehow spot it beneath skin and bone. I laughed softly under my breath.
“But it’s there.” My fingers rubbed against the back of my neck unconsciously. “A reminder of what happens when you trust the wrong person.”
That familiar hollow thing that still lived somewhere deep beneath all the arrogance and sharp edges stirred.