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“It makes sense that Ace runs Rage, and you step up for Chance. You are family. Hellfire is gonna look to you and Bear to help them through this. Donate your liver, and you’re on the down-and-out list. Fanatic’s my brother. I can save him. You gotta let me do this, man. Phoe also needs you, and she can’t be running between you and Micah.”
“He’s my son,” Drake whispered, pale under his tan.
Calamity stepped forward and placed a palm on Drake’s shoulder. Drake’s hand rose and gripped it tightly, and Klutz watched Calamity wince a little.
“And my brother. Take me for further testing. If we match, take what you need. If I fail the tests, you can step up. But the weight of two MCs is on your shoulders,” Klutz said.
“He’s my son!” Drake argued, his voice gaining strength.
“Look around, Pres; Hellfire is barely hanging on. They need you, and so does Rage. I ain’t as important. I can afford to be on the recovery list. You can’t. Drake, you need to be the Rage president and decide. Phoe will need you to get her through this; seriously, man, you have to be on your feet,” Klutz stated, and Drake winced.
“But I’m his father,” Drake muttered.
“Let Klutz do it!” Diesel bellowed, startling him. “We need a fuckin’ president! Both clubs need a fucking operating pres! You’re a Michaelson, same as Chance!”
Phoe made the decision.
“Doc, please test Klutz further, and should he match, go ahead. How long can Micah hang on?” Phoe asked with a wobble.
“As long as it takes to test Klutz, we hope,” the doctor replied. She faced Klutz. “Follow me, and I’ll explain the process.”
Klutz stepped forward, and Calamity grabbed him.
“Be safe. I can’t lose two brothers today,” he whispered.
Klutz offered him a nod and turned to speak to the specialist. “No need, doc; I was three weeks off qualifying as a surgeon. I know everything. Let’s get these tests done,” Klutz said and nodded at everyone before disappearing.
Chance
Clio cried in distress silently as they cut into her stomach. He couldn’t see over the raised barrier, but he knew his wife was suffering. The baby was too early, and Chance was stunned by the number of people standing by, ready to work on his child. Clio clenched his hand tightly as she murmured how she’d failed them. Chance bent his head and rested his lips on her brow as he tried to soothe her. But there was no calming her.
“It’s a boy!” somebody said quietly, and there was bustling behind him.
“Found the tear,” someone replied, and Chance stepped back. He didn’t know who to attend. His wife or son. A tiny cry pierced his heart, and he knew the baby was alive. The sheer amount of people around his child meant he couldn’t see him, but his heart beat more steadily on hearing that scream. They began getting ready to move his boy out, and Chance paused. Who did he stay with?
“Go with him,” Clio said weakly.
Chance nodded and chased after the doctors and nurses moving his baby.
Clio watched him leave before her eyes rolled up, and she passed out.
“Fuck! We’ve got a bleeder!” a doctor cried, and a flurry of movement hit Clio.
Diesel
Half an hour had gone by after Klutz had left them. Wraith had re-joined them, being given the all-clear apart from bruises, a few cuts, and a slight concussion. Slaughter was being stitched up, and Pyro, Fanatic, Celt, Clio, and Rooster remained in surgery. They were waiting on word from Slaughter when a guy in scrubs ran into the lobby and glanced around.
“Chance Michaelson? We need him urgently,” the man exclaimed.
“He’s with his wife,” Drake replied.
“No, he left to follow his son to the NICU, but Clio has complications. He’s not there. We require his permission!”
“For what?” Diesel demanded.
“I cannot tell…”
“I’ve got consent if you want it. What is happening with Clio?” Diesel roared, his self-control breaking.
