Page 64 of Calypso's Shield
I shake Capone off so hard he stumbles back. “She’s not fucking dying.”
Torch and Blayze step in front of me, blocking me when I try to lunge toward her.
“You can’t help her right now, brother.” Torch’s voice is steady but firm, but I don’t give a shit.
I fight against their hold, my heart hammering like it’s trying to break free of my chest. “I don’t fucking care. I need to get to her.” My voice cracks, raw and broken. “She can’t leave me. Not her. Not after everything.”
I’ve lost people before. Too many people. I know what death looks like, and I won’t survive this if she goes.
A loud, piercing cry cuts through the chaos, and my breath locks in my throat. Our baby.
I snap my head up as the doctor lifts a tiny, wriggling body, a perfect mix of blood and life and fucking miracles. A cry so small, yet so goddamn strong, echoes through the room. The sound of my baby’s first cry shatters something inside me.
One of the nurses turns to me, her voice barely above a whisper over the chaos. “It’s a girl,” she says softly. “A strong, healthy little girl.”
A daughter. My daughter.
The weight of it slams into my chest like a goddamn freight train. I should be able to fucking breathe now. I should be feeling something other than this wrecking ball of terror still crushing me, but I can’t because Calypso still isn’t moving.
The doctors are still working on her. Her skin is too pale. The heart monitor isn’t beeping fast enough.
My baby is alive, but where the fuck is her mother? “Calypso?” My voice is barely a whisper now, but she doesn’t answer.
A nurse places my daughter in my arms, and the second I feel her tiny weight, something inside me cracks wide open. She’s so fucking small, so warm and fragile but strong. She doesn’t even know the hell she was just born into.
I hold her against me, breathing her in, her heartbeat pounding steady against my chest. She’s here, but I need Calypso. I need her to fucking wake up.
I turn back toward her still body, my breath a shattered, uneven wreck in my chest.
“Lyp,” I rasp, moving toward her, pressing my daughter against my chest with one hand while I grip Calypso’s cold fingers in the other.
She’s too fucking cold. Her lips are parted, her chest barely moving. My throat burns, I can’t lose her. Not her. Not now. Not ever.
I drop my forehead against hers, my tears falling into her dark hair. “Come on, baby,” I whisper. “Come back to me.”
Seconds stretch into an eternity. Then, A twitch. A small, weak flutter of her fingers against mine.
A choked sound rips from my throat, and I clutch her hand harder. “Calypso?”
Her eyelashes flicker, then those fierce, green eyes slowly, weakly, open.
I let out a breath so jagged it nearly breaks me. She’s alive.
Calypso blinks sluggishly, a tear slipping down her cheek. Her lips part, and her voice is barely more than a whisper. “She made it?”
I choke on the knot in my throat. I press my forehead against hers, my voice breaking. “She’s perfect, baby.”
Her exhausted, weak smile tugs at something deep inside me. “She’s gonna be a little hellraiser.”
I laugh, my voice breaking. “Damn right she is.”
I press our daughter gently into her mother’s arms, watching as the strongest woman I’ve ever known holds the most precious thing in my world.
The rest of our clubs wait outside, their voices muffled, their boots pacing, but at this moment, nothing else exists but us. Mywoman. My daughter. My entire goddamn life and if anyone ever tries to take this from me, I’ll burn the world down before I let them.
The room is finally quiet. The chaos, the screaming machines, the rush of doctors and nurses, it’s all fading into nothing. Now, there’s only soft breaths, warmth, and the steady hum of life where death nearly took hold.
Calypso is tucked against my side, her head resting against my chest. She’s exhausted, barely holding herself upright, but she won’t let go of our daughter, not for anything.
