Page 3 of Calypso’s Shield (Royal Harlots MC, Los Angeles Chapter #1)
We walk side by side into Church, our footsteps almost too loud in the heavy silence that fills the room.
The air is thick with the tension of all the eyes on us, the officers' gazes cutting in our direction like sharp blades.
We stand at the end of the table, not daring to take a seat because none are offered.
The room hums with that quiet anticipation, like a storm just before it breaks.
Duchess’s gavel slams on the table, the sound ringing through the room as the doors close behind us, sealing us in.
The lights above flicker, casting long shadows that crawl along the walls, making the space feel darker, heavier.
It presses against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I hadn’t expected to be here, standing in front of Duchess, the woman who’s both a legend and a force of nature in our world.
I’ve admired her from afar, but now I’m in her space, and the power in her eyes makes me feel both small and strangely seen.
“Allura, Calypso,” Duchess says, her voice cutting through the tension.
She fixes her gaze on us like she’s reading us from the inside out.
“A little bird told me you both want to become officers of Royal Harlots. As you can see, we already have a full table.” She looks around the room, her eyes scanning the faces of the women who have earned their place here.
“Unless someone here wants to give up her seat for you, I don’t see how that’s possible. ”
Murmurs break out around the table, voices low but filled with resistance. “Fuck no,” “Hell no,” and “Are you out of your fucking mind?” drift through the air, and my stomach twists with the weight of it all.
My mind is a whirl of panic, uncertainty, and the strange desire to scream, cry, or maybe just pass out. I didn’t expect it to be like this. Didn’t think I’d be thrown into the fire this fast. What is Duchess getting at? Why does she seem so cruel at this moment?
But then, Duchess’s tone shifts. Her hand rises, and the room falls silent again, each of us waiting for her next words. “What we do have,” Duchess continues, her finger pointing in the air, “are too many members for one territory and not enough expansion.”
She eyes us both like she’s measuring something deep inside.
“I want you, Allura, to start your own Chapter in Los Angeles. I’ve seen what you can do, and I know I can’t keep you here.
You’re now the official President of Royal Harlots MC, Los Angeles Chapter.
You have the power to put whoever you want in any position in your Chapter. ”
My heart skips a beat. Allura, the President of a whole new chapter. My pulse quickens, and I almost can’t process what Duchess is saying. Allura looks like she’s about to float off the ground, the shock and disbelief written all over her face.
“Thank you, Prez,” Allura says, her voice shaky but full of hope. “Can I ask who is coming with me?”
“Sloane, Divine, Calypso, Iris, and Rebel will accompany you. You leave in two weeks. Meet with Capone, the Prez of Royal Bastards MC, Los Angeles, and he’ll get all of you settled.
If you need them, they’ll be there. But you must do this on your own.
Don’t rely on a dick to save you. You have to save yourself. ”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can’t even form a coherent response. This is real. This is happening. And for once, I’m not caught in the wake of someone else’s decisions. I’m part of something bigger. Something that’s all mine.
Allura’s face lights up with pride, a glow I haven’t seen from her in a long time. “Wow. Thank you again, Duchess,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper of gratitude.
Duchess holds up her hand again, signaling for silence. “All in favor of Allura moving to President as our sister chapter in Los Angeles, say Aye.”
One by one, the voices around the table rise in unanimous approval. “Aye.”
The sound is deafening in the quiet room. It settles over us like a weight that lifts us up instead of pulling us down.
Duchess slams her gavel again, the echo of it reverberating through the walls. “That settles it. It’s unanimous. Now, get the fuck out, don’t fuck up, and make Royal Harlots proud.”
The words are final, and just like that, it’s over. Allura and I step out of the room, the weight of the decision settling around us like a warm cloak. We exchange a glance, the kind of look that says everything and nothing all at once.
“Holy shit,” Allura says, a wild, excited laugh escaping her lips. “We’re really doing this. We’re really going to L.A.”
I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. There’s excitement, yes.
There’s a glimmer of freedom in this new chapter of our lives.
But the unease is still there, gnawing at me from within.
I’d fought my entire adult life to escape the grip of my controlling, abusive ex-husband, and maybe, just maybe, this is the ticket I need to finally break free for good.
But as we leave Church, my heart sinks. My ex won’t let me go so easily. If I had known that leaving New York City wouldn’t rid me of him, I would’ve handled things differently.
No. My terror is just beginning.