Frankie Halstead

Frankie grew up around adults who couldn't be counted on, so she learned early that needing anyone meant weakness. At twenty-two, a floor-sweeping job at a rundown Phoenix bike garage gave her the first thing that ever made sense: engines she could fix, metal she could shape, work that didn't lie. She spent six years proving herself better than every man who doubted her, then bought the place at twenty-eight. Now she owns it outright, runs it alone, and every bolt she turns is proof nobody gets to tell her what she can't be. What she won't admit: she's terrified of being soft with someone again, because the last time she tried, she destroyed it herself.