Page 67 of Rebel
Sloane leans back, boots on the chair rung. “So what? We just sit and wait for another bullet to drop?”
Allura’s eyes narrow. “No. We make noise on our own terms. Fundraiser noise.”
French arches a brow. “You mean the fight night idea?”
“Exactly,” Allura confirms. “Public, loud, untouchable. We raise cash for the shelter, we get the press sniffing in our direction for something other than blood. Gives Divine cover to move digital pieces without raising flags.”
Sloane grins. “Finally, a PR event I can punch someone at.”
French snickers. “You’ll sell tickets.”
Iris nods, scrolling through her notes. “Already got sponsors lined up, local bars, a tattoo parlor, and a gear shop willing to donate. Flyers go live tonight.”
Calypso’s lips twitch into a grin. “And my man Farris is building the ring.”
“Better be sturdy,” Raven drawls. “Last time French fought, she broke a guy’s collarbone and half the mat.”
“Allegedly,” French retorts, eyes sparkling.
Annabelle giggles at the word, echoing it like a charm. “A-le-ged-ly!”
Even Sloane laughs, shaking her head. “Kid’s got our vocabulary already.”
The warmth in the room thickens until Allura clears her throat. “Fun aside, we also talk security. The Vultures won’t like us fundraising in their shadow. We keep eyes on the exits, cameras on the crowd, and weapons out of sight but ready.”
Raven adds, “I’ll post lookouts. Two on the roof, one by the bar, one near the back gate.”
“Good,” Allura approves. “And Rebel?”
“Yeah?”
“You and Bishop are still on comms for Divine’s trace. No heroics. No solo rides.”
I hesitate. “Understood.”
French mutters, “That’s her lying voice.”
I shoot her a look, and she smirks unapologetically.
Calypso’s fingers tremble slightly as she takes a sip of water. “I can help with the donations. Even if I can’t stand long.”
“You help by breathing,” Allura says, firm but kind. “We got the rest.”
Farris places a steadying hand on Calypso’s shoulder, pride written across his face. “She’ll still run circles around you.”
Calypso grins. “Damn right.”
Farris pulls his love-sick eyes away from Calypso for a moment and looks at Allura. “Capone told me if you needthe Royal Bastards, we will be honored to help wherever you need it.”
Allura nods her head, “Appreciate it, Law Dog. I will take Capone up on the offer.” She looks at Sloane, “Set it up with Torch.”
Sloane nods. “On it.”
For a moment, the table hums with the rhythm we built this club on, sisterhood, loyalty, blood, and laughter all stitched into the same leather.
Allura leans forward, tone dropping low. “One more thing. Bones.”
The name still cuts, sharp and familiar.
