Page 39 of Calypso's Shield
A dark energy settles over the room. The hunt is on.
Capone looks at me, his smirk is gone. “You good with this, Law Dog?”
I exhale slowly, my body thrumming with anticipation.
I think about Train’s smug fucking face. About his hands on me, yanking my cut. About the way he sneered when he said,She’s mine.
I see red. I meet Capone’s gaze, my voice steady as fucking steel. “I want his head on a fucking plate.”
The room goes silent, and then Capone grins. “Now you’re starting to sound like one of us.”
I walk out of Church in search of Calypso. The tension is still buzzing under my skin. A few months ago, I would’ve played by the book. Would’ve handled this the way the badge taught me.
Now? I’m doing it the Royal Bastards way.
15
CALYPSO
The moment Farris walks out of Church, I know something has changed. He’s moving differently. He’s more sure, more lethal, more like them. He moves like an outlaw, not a cop.
When our eyes lock, he doesn’t speak. He stalks toward me with purpose. My stomach tightens, and not just from the weight of what I need to tell him.
I’ve seen men on the edge. Hell, I’ve been close to it a handful of times. But Farris? He’s passed it, and I don’t know how to bring him back.
I tilt my chin as he reaches me, not backing down from the predator look in his eyes. “How bad was it?”
Farris’s jaw clenches. “We’re handling it.”
That’s all he says, but I don’t miss the flicker behind his eyes. Resolution, vengeance, a promise of blood. I should ask what that means. I should demand to know what the Bastards are planning, but I don’t because I already know.
“We need to talk.” I flex my hands at my sides instead of reaching out to him like I want to.
Farris's eyes roam over my body, stopping at my stomach. “Yeah, we do.” The words feel heavier than they should.
I motion toward the hallway leading to his room, and Farris follows me. The tension between us is like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
The moment the door closes behind us, I turn to face him with my arms crossed. I don’t know why I expect Farris to look nervous, but he doesn’t. He just watches me, calm and steady, like he’s already made up his mind about whatever’s coming. I hate how much that pisses me off.
I suck in a sharp breath. “I took the test.”
Farris nods once, slowly. “And?” His jaw flexes, and for the first time, something in his stone-cold exterior cracks. “Calypso.”
I hesitate. Do I tell him the truth or try to lie?
I swallow hard and go with my gut instinct. “It was negative.”
His shoulders shift slightly, like he’s adjusting to the weight of it. Like he expected something different. Like he’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. Neither am I.
“Say something,” I whisper.
Farris exhales, running a hand down his face before closing the space between us in two slow steps. “You scared the hell out of me.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Right. Because the big, bad cop-turned-biker was so worried about…”
“I was.” Farris’s voice is sharp, cutting me off, and I freeze.
He’s watching me with that look. The one that says he sees right through my bullshit. “I spent months not knowing if you were safe, if you were in pain, if you were hurting.” Farris’s voice drops lower, rougher, and it sends a need to my core. “And theworst part? I didn’t know if you were dealing with this shit alone and weren’t going to tell me.”
