Chapter 26 Zara
I’m sitting at the long wooden table in the clubhouse with Tony, Viper, Izzy, and Hunter when Tony’s phone buzzes.
He glances at the screen before answering.
His entire face lights up after listening to the person on the other end.
After several euphoric thank yous, Tony ends the call and pounds the table.
“Oh hell yes,” he says, tapping out a tune.
I raise an eyebrow. “Something made you happy. Are you going to share?”
Tony looks at me like he’s about to burst. “That was Darlene. The event coordinator.”
My pulse kicks up immediately. “And?”
He leans forward, lowering his voice even though there’s no real reason to. “A designer is coming to the show tomorrow.”
“Is that unusual?” Hunter asks calmly from across the table.
Tony shakes his head vigorously. “Not just any designer. Stefano Bellanti.”
For a second, the name doesn’t register. Then it does, and my stomach flips.
“You’re kidding,” I breathe.
Stefano Bellanti is practically royalty in Chicago fashion circles. His collections sell out within hours. Celebrities wear his pieces on red carpets. Designers would kill to get their work in front of him.
Tony points at me like he’s presenting evidence. “I am not kidding. Darlene said he RSVP’d this morning.”
My heart starts racing so fast it’s hard to breathe.
“This could be huge,” I say.
Tony grins. “Huge doesn’t even begin to cover it. If he likes our stuff…”
He trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish the sentence. If Bellanti notices our designs, everything could change.
“This could be our big break,” I squeal.
Hunter chuckles, “No pressure, Viper.”
Tony turns dramatically toward Viper, pointing an accusatory finger at her.
“You hear that?” he says. “No pressure. Except that Zara and my entire future depend on you and Bianca looking absolutely flawless tomorrow.”
Viper leans back in her chair, completely unfazed. Her blonde hair falls over one shoulder as she crosses her arms.
“Oh, is that all?” she says dryly.
Tony nods seriously. “Yep. No big deal. Just the crushing weight of our hopes and dreams.”
Izzy snorts.
Viper rolls her eyes. “Relax, drama king. Bianca and I will nail it.”
“You promise?” Tony presses.
Viper tilts her head toward him. “Tony, if you think I’m letting someone trip me on a runway while I’m wearing your outfits, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.”
Hunter chuckles again.
Tony studies her a second longer, then finally sighs. “Fine. I trust you.”
“You should,” she says.
Then her expression shifts slightly.
“But I can’t wait until it’s over.”
I frown. “Why?”
Viper shrugs. “Because I feel naked.”
Tony blinks. “You’re literally going to be wearing couture.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she says.
I lean forward, curious. “Then what do you mean?”
She glances around the table like she’s debating how much to reveal.
Then she sighs.
“Okay. Quick inventory.”
Hunter groans softly. “Here we go.”
Viper ignores him and taps her kutte.
“Inside pocket—pepper spray.”
She pulls out a small black canister and sets it on the table.
Tony’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Other side,” she continues, reaching into another hidden pocket, “mini flashlight and a tactical pen.”
She places both next to the pepper spray. The pen looks ordinary, but something about its weight suggests otherwise.
“That thing breaks bones?” Hunter asks.
“Glass, mostly,” she says casually.
My eyes widen.
She taps her chest next.
“Bra holster.”
Tony nearly chokes. “You have a bra holster?”
Viper pulls out a slim folding knife and flips it open before snapping it shut again.
“Small blade,” she says. “Last resort.”
She slides it back into place like this is completely normal.
I stare at her. “You carry all of that… all the time?”
“Mostly.”
Next, she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans.
“Front pocket—kubotan.”
She pulls out a small metal rod.
“Pain compliance tool,” she explains. “Works great on knuckles, ribs, or pressure points.”
Hunter nods approvingly.
Tony looks mildly horrified.
Then Viper lifts one boot onto the table.
“Boot sheath.”
She pulls out a tiny fixed-blade knife.
Tony throws his hands up. “How are you even allowed in public?”
Viper grins. “Confidence.”
I can’t help laughing.
“Okay,” I say. “Now I understand why you’ll feel naked tomorrow.”
She nods. “Exactly. On the runway, I can’t carry any of it.”
Izzy lifts a hand.
“Oh, please,” she says. “Amateur hour.”
Viper looks offended. “Excuse me?”
Izzy calmly sets her coffee down.
“I travel lighter,” she says. “But smarter.”
She wiggles her fingers.
“First—ring.”
The ring on her middle finger suddenly unfolds with a quick twist, transforming into a compact set of brass knuckles.
My jaw drops.
“You’re kidding.”
Izzy smirks. “Nope.”
Hunter leans closer to examine it. “That’s slick.”
“Titanium alloy,” she says proudly.
Tony shakes his head like he’s watching a magic trick.
Izzy folds the ring back into place.
“Second,” she says, reaching into her jacket pocket, “hair stick.”
She pulls out what looks like a decorative hairpin.
“That’s a weapon?” I ask.
She presses a button, and a narrow spike slides out from the tip.
“Self-defense spike,” she says. “Great for hands that get grabby.”
Viper nods approvingly.
“Not bad.”
Izzy shrugs.
“Also have a keychain alarm, a tiny pepper spray, and steel-toe boots.”
Tony rubs his temples.
“I’m starting to think fashion school didn’t prepare me for this conversation.”
Viper grins.
“Welcome to the Demon Dawgs extended family.”
Then she reaches for the chain around her neck.
“Oh—and one more thing.”
She pulls the pendant forward. It looks like a simple triangular piece of metal.
“With a twist—”
She turns the pendant sideways and it expands into a small but wicked-looking knuckle guard.
Tony stares.
“You’re wearing brass knuckles as jewelry.”
“Correct.”
Hunter laughs.
“Smart.”
Viper folds it back and lets the necklace drop against her chest.
I lean back in my chair, trying to process everything.
“So while Tony and I are worrying about fabric seams,” I say slowly, “you two are basically walking armories.”
Izzy grins.
“Prepared women are harder to victimize.”
Viper nods once.
“Exactly.”
Tony points between them.
“And tomorrow… none of that.”
Viper sighs dramatically.
“Tragic.”
Then she looks at me and smiles.
“But don’t worry, Zara.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Bianca and I will look stunning.”
Tony leans forward. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Viper’s smile turns sharp.
“And if anyone tries anything…”
She cracks her knuckles.
“…I can still improvise.”
Viper and Izzy’s little show-and-tell sticks in my brain long after the conversation ends.
Weapons designed as jewelry. Boots doubling as knife sheaths.
Defense tools hidden in plain sight and easily accessible.
The idea grows in my mind as I consider the possibilities.
Without a word to the others, I push away from the table and jog upstairs to Bush’s room.
I’m grateful that he had the foresight to give me a key.
Locking the door behind me, my heart races from excitement.
I grab my drawing pad from my bag and flop onto the bed, pencil already moving before I fully think it through. My pencil flies across the page as images of clothing designed to protect and empower women flow from my mind.
First–jackets.
Sleek fitted leather jackets with hidden interior pockets along the seams. Thin compartment for pepper spray, a kubotan, or a tactical pen. Invisible from the outside, but easy to reach.
Second—boots.
Fashion boots with reinforced interior sheaths. Slim enough that no one would notice, but perfect for a small defensive blade or spike. Lethal spiked heels. Metal tips on the toes that will deliver damage.
Third–tops.
Corset-style tops with structured boning strong enough to conceal slim tools between the layers of fabric or loose enough to hide what’s underneath.
Fourth–accessories.
A belt with magnetic closures designed to hold a compact alarm or pepper spray. Jewelry like the items Izzy and Viper carry. Bras that can hide blades or other items.
My excitement builds with every page, every design.
The designs begin to evolve into full outfits—runway-ready pieces that also serve a purpose.
Empowerment through fashion. Protection through design.
The pencil scratches rapidly across the paper as I sketch pocket placements, seam reinforcements, and hidden loops.
My pad fills with page after page.
I barely notice how much time passes until the bedroom door opens.
I glance up as Bush steps inside. The sight of him makes my pulse jump for a completely different reason.
His broad shoulders fill the doorway, his blonde hair slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it. His kutte hangs open over a black T-shirt, and there’s a heaviness in his expression I didn’t see earlier.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up straighter. “Where’ve you been?”
He pushes the door shut behind him.
“Club business,” he says.
His voice is quieter than usual. Something about the way he says it makes my stomach tighten.
I tilt my head. “Everything okay?”
He walks farther into the room, running a hand along the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Had some stuff to deal with.”
He glances down at the sketchpad spread across the bed.
“What’s all this?”
I brighten instantly.
“Inspiration,” I say, flipping the pad toward him so he can see the pages. “After Viper and Izzy showed us their portable armory, my brain kind of exploded.”
Bush studies the sketches.
His brow lifts slightly as he flips through a couple of pages.
“Hidden weapon pockets?”
“Exactly!” I say, excitement bubbling up again. “Fashion that lets women defend themselves without anyone realizing what they’re carrying.”
He gives a low whistle.
“That’s… actually pretty badass.”
I grin.
“Right?”
He sets the pad back down on the bed.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says.
Now that he’s closer, I can see the fatigue in his eyes. Something about the club business he dealt with clearly weighs on him.
“Okay,” I say softly.
He nods once, then heads toward the bathroom.
I watch him go. When the bathroom door closes, I sit for a moment staring at it.
Something about Bush’s demeanor calls to me.
Before I can overthink it, I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.
My nerves buzz as I strip out of my clothes and purposely march to the door. Opening it, I step inside.