“Hold up.”
Viper appears beside us, a beer bottle dangling from her fingers.
“Are you talking about your new designs?”
I hesitate, suddenly aware that several nearby bikers have gone quiet.
“Well…” I glance at Bush before continuing. “I’ve been working on designs that let women carry weapons.”
Viper’s eyes light up immediately.
“Say that again.”
“Clothes with built-in compartments,” I explain. “Hidden holsters. Places to stash blades or small firearms. Dresses, jackets, even evening wear. I got the idea from you and Izzy.”
Her grin spreads slowly.
“Oh hell yes.”
She grabs my wrist.
“Come on.”
Before I know what’s happening, she’s pulling me across the room toward one of the long tables.
Chill sits at the table with Chrome and Cicely, drinks scattered across the surface.
Viper plants me in front of them like she’s presenting a prizefighter.
“Tell them.”
Chill raises an eyebrow. “Tell us what?”
“Her designs,” Viper says eagerly. “You’re gonna love this.”
Everyone looks at me.
My cheeks warm, but excitement pushes the nerves aside.
“I’ve been sketching clothes that let women carry weapons without anyone noticing,” I explain. “Structured jackets with shoulder holsters built into the lining. Dresses with reinforced seams that hide slim blades. Boots with concealed compartments.”
Cicely leans forward immediately.
“Oh, my God.”
I keep going, the ideas spilling out.
“Even formal gowns with hidden thigh holsters. The goal is that a woman can defend herself anywhere—without sacrificing style.”
Chill whistles softly.
“That’s actually brilliant.”
Bush steps closer, resting his hands on the back of my chair.
“I’ve seen the sketches,” he says. “They’re damn good.”
Pride warms my chest at the quiet certainty in his voice.
