Laced With Havoc

Episode-10

The Havoc MC mansion stood tall and brooding under the early morning haze, its vast structure echoing authority and age-old secrets. The meeting room, tucked behind thick oak doors, hummed with quiet tension. A large table stretched across the center, illuminated by the blue glow of a mounted projector. A digital layout of the city glowed on the screen, with red markers that made everyone shift a little in their seats. Evryone except Luca , Elara and Nico is present.

At one end everyone sat attentively except uncle Andrew.

Zion stood at the head of the table, arms folded, jaw tight. Everyone agreed Zion is a good strategist . Evryone respected him for that.

"Frostbite’s been tailing us. Closely," he began, his voice slicing through the murmurs.

The room fell still. Elias, his older brother, leaned forward, arms crossed as if already calculating countermeasures. Victor remained silent but alert, and Luca—still the youngest among them—frowned with a protective tension lingering in his posture.

"We’ve seen them near the safehouses. Aunt Cam spotted unfamiliar bikes on her supply run. This isn’t coincidence. It’s strategy."

Aunt Camila, perched with perfect posture beside Elias, gave a sharp nod. She wore her usual poise like armor.

"So we shift," Zion continued. "Not just to defense. We evolve. There’s something Frostbite has that we don’t, and they’re beating us in that field. Fashion."

Selene raised an eyebrow. "You’re saying a fashion wing. Here?"

"Not just fashion," Zion said. "An empire. Designs. Shows. Visibility. They’ve got it, and we don’t. That’s what makes them look like kings in the public eye."

Marisol, ever the practical one, chimed in. "We need someone who knows that world. Someone with influence."

Zion tapped the remote. A series of stills flashed—dresses from magazines, show stills, viral clips. Designs hauntingly beautiful, bold yet laced with elegance.

"Who made these?" Aunt Camila asked, eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Freyda Liselle," Zion said. "She’s the one."

Lola, who had been quiet until now, gasped and nearly knocked over her coffee.

"Freyda? Oh my God, she’s amazing! I love her stuff—especially that winter drop she did with the ice-silver cloak and matching corset—"

Everyone turned to stare at her. Zion didn’t miss the flicker of panic in her eyes as she realized what she’d just admitted.

Lola cleared her throat, flustered. "I mean... heard about it. On the internet. Totally just... general fan stuff."

Zion suppressed a smirk. She knew Freyda personally—but no one else in the room knew that yet.

"I thought Frostbite kept their designer anonymous?" Bianca asked, narrowing her eyes.

Aunt Camila nodded. "They do. That’s the odd thing. I’ve worn her designs—beautiful, thoughtful work. But they never let me meet the designer."

Zion continued, ignoring the slight tension. "We’re shifting gears. The fashion division will be run by Camila, my mom, and you four." He motioned toward the sisters-in-law.

Marisol smiled. "We’ll handle the management and execution. Selene can handle casting. Bianca, promotions. Lola—"

"Streetwear," Lola chirped, regaining her usual cheer. "I can handle the trendier stuff, build hype."

"Exactly. We’re not looking for one look. We’re looking for diversity. Freyda specializes in gala themes, traditional elegance. Lola’s got the street edge. And we will find a number of others who ace in other styles. We’ll build a range."

Victor finally spoke. "And how do you plan to convince her? Given your history."

Zion’s face remained unreadable. "Tomorrow, I’ll collect the dress I ordered from her for Aunt Camila. We will hold a meeting tomorrow at the same time, if Aunt Cam likes it, then she's gonna wear this for birthday and If she doesn’t like what Freyda made, we’ll look elsewhere, Deal Aunt Cam?"

Aunt Camila nodded and asked. "If you say so . You really think she’ll agree to work with us?"

Zion met her gaze. "If she doesn’t, then we let her go. But we try. We need her talent."

As the meeting wrapped, the door creaked open. Luca entered, arms full.

"Look who woke up," he chuckled. In his arms was a groggy Elara, blinking sleepily.

Behind him trailed Nico, rubbing his eyes and dragging a plush wolf toy by one leg. Elias got up and ruffled his son’s hair before picking him up with ease.

Elara squinted around the room and then curled closer into Luca’s arms.

"They’re so damn refreshing," the best friends—Selene and Bianca—said in unison.

Lola let out a laugh. "She’s holding onto him like he’s a mango tart."

Zion rolled his eyes. "Put her down before she starts demanding desserts again."

Hearing this commotion, uncle Andrew woke up and everyone begins to laugh .

The tension of the meeting evaporated with the kids' presence, softening the air with laughter and warmth. But beneath it all, Zion’s gaze returned to the projector screen, where Freyda’s designs still lingered.

He didn’t feel anything personal for her.

But professionally ,She was a weapon they needed.

And tomorrow, the first move would be made.