“Use her as bait," Harley insists, her voice now with confidence. “Her dad did f**k us over, you already got this far, might as well play it out, babe." I approve. Harley needs this. She needs to see what we do on runs, see if this is where she wants her place in the club to be.
Harley steps over to the professor and digs in his pocket a second before pulling out a black phone. Her hand shakes, and she keeps her head as far away as she can from the dead body. I can tell just by looking at her, she's not ready for this kind of s**t. She wants to be a part of the club, but when it comes to this s**t… she's not going to be around it. Not if I can help it.
I know she won't sit behind the counter and sling drinks to the boys, and I don't want her to, but I also don't want bloodshed on my woma
