~𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙻𝚈𝙳𝙴~

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕪

Somehow, Bellatrix had rodeo-ed herself all the way out to Houston, Texas, standing at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. This was the kind of place legends were made. She'd dreamed of riding here since she was a kid, and now, here she was—semi-finals. One step away from the big one. If she placed, she'd be running in the finals next weekend.

Tig was right there with her, watching from the sidelines, arms crossed, a smirk on his lips like he already knew she was about to set the whole damn place on fire. The rest of the family was back in Charming, but he wasn't about to miss this.

She looked every bit the outlaw queen she was. High-waisted, snakeskin-printed super-flared jeans that fit just right, a black collared button-down—because rules—but with her kutte thrown on top, because no one was telling her not to wear it.

Her black cowboy hat sat low, wrapped in a real snakeskin hatband, a massive crow feather tucked into the side, along with the ace of spades from Clay's lucky deck. The final touch—black cowboy boots, broken in but sharp as hell.

She swung up onto Sixx's back, running a steady hand down his neck. He was antsy, muscles coiled, ready. She struck a match against her boot, lighting a cigarette, smoke curling around her as she turned her attention to the alley.

The gate crew gave her the signal.

She took one last drag, flicked the cigarette away, and leaned in, her voice wicked against Sixx's ear.

"Get raunchy with it, motherfucker."

And they were gone.

She and Sixx moved like they had one mind, cutting around the barrels with ruthless precision. Dirt kicked up behind them as they took the turns tight, pushing for every last fraction of a second.

As she came around the second barrel, she felt the camera on her. Bellatrix locked eyes with the photographer, grinned sharp and wide, her fangs flashing in the arena lights.

Then, like a goddamn bullet, they flew toward the finish.

The timer stopped at 13.025.

The fastest run of the night.

The crowd erupted, but Bellatrix barely heard it over the blood roaring in her ears. She sat back as Sixx tore out of the alley, smoke from the cigarette still lingering in the air behind her.

She'd made it to the finals.

Later, when they called her forward for her winnings—ten thousand dollars—she stood in the dirt, kutte on full display, as the interviewer approached.

"So, Bellatrix," the reporter said, "you've got some of the fastest times we've seen this week. But what really caught our attention is that vest you're wearing. You mind telling us about it?"

Bellatrix smirked, adjusting her hat.

"I don't mind at all," she said, voice smooth as sin. " I'm a second generation MC president, and the first female member in  SOA history."

And just like that, she had the whole rodeo hanging on her every word.

-

Bellatrix had barely kicked the hotel door shut behind her when her phone started buzzing like crazy. She pulled it out of her pocket and rolled her eyes, already knowing exactly who it was.

The Bad Bitch Brigade.

She sighed, smirking as she swiped to accept the FaceTime. "Y'all don't waste no time, huh?"