Page 100 of Ace of Spades

And in smaller letters…specifically Grayson Holt’s.

A table next to it holds printed flyers, competition rules, a project timeline, and what looks suspiciously like color-coded spreadsheets as I walk by.

Sienna clasps her hands behind her back, cheeks pink.

"I, uh... might’ve... entered us into the National Custom Build Competition."

The shop goes dead silent.

Then Gramps whistles low, “Wonder where you’d get such an idea, Miss Riley?”

Kick raises an eyebrow suspiciously at the older man. Joey looks around like maybe it’s a prank.

I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for an explanation.

Sienna sucks in a breath like she’s about to give a whole TED Talk.

"Before you say anything, I know I probably should’ve asked first," she rushes out, speaking directly to me. "But entries were closing, and I figured… why not take a shot? Plus, I put together a plan—" she gestures wildly to the board— "and did some research, and found out this year's theme islegacy builds.So I thought... what better way to honor our roots than a tribute bike?"

She flips to the next page on a mounted poster board and it’s a rough sketch of a low-slung chopper, sleek and dark, draped in deep blues and silver chrome, with a military insignia theme woven through the design.

"To honor soldiers," she says softer now. "People like you, and Brody. People who laid it all down when duty called."

I can tell she’s about to launch into a whole speech. Her fingers are trembling, her eyes darting from face to face, searching for any sign that maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this whole idea is just trash.

But she doesn’t have to convince me. Not even a little. I asked for a hail mary, and this angel just drops into my lap with the answer.

I step forward, jaw tight for a whole different reason now. Pride. Raw and brutal and so fucking strong it’s a wonder I don’t drop right to my knees in front of her.

"We’re doing it," I say, cutting her off before she can spiral.

Sienna blinks.

"Wait… what? Really?"

I nod. "Really."

The crew stirs around me, a ripple of murmured excitement and cautious questioning.

Kick crosses her arms. "It’s a hell of a tight deadline, Sienna. We’re talking six days from now."

“I think we can do it,” Skid says, pure confidence. “You don’t believe we can do it?”

"No one’s saying that," Kick says, but her tone is gentler than usual. "We just need to be smart about it. Divide and conquer."

Ghost steps forward, tapping the board with the end of a socket wrench.

"If we’re gonna do it, we do it the right way. No half-assed builds." His voice is deep and thick and so unfamiliar given that he never says a word. He just works.

Gramps chuckles, clapping Ghost on the back. "Finally. Someone speaking my language."

Sienna’s whole face lights up like a sunrise.

"We can do it," she says, voice fierce and sure now that she has the crew’s blessing. "I know we can."

And for the first time in months—maybe even years—I believe we can too.

We circle around, hashing out assignments. Ghost handling the frame. Kick on custom fabrications. Skid will be doing the paint job and Gramps on engine tuning. Me and Sienna will be coordinating the whole damn circus.

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