Pearl Cassidy

was danger served neat

Some outlaws are born mean. Some are born desperate.

Pearl Cassidy? She was born fabulous —

and she knew it.

She had the rich, dark allure of midnight whiskey and the slow-burn charm of bourbon poured over ripe peaches. One look and you’d swear she was spun from silk and sin. Pearl didn’t just ride with

The Bad Girls—

she defined what it meant to be bad. She moved like smoke, spoke like a velvet dagger. She was the gang’s silent storm—calm on the surface, lethal underneath, with a taste for bourbon and a thirst for payback.

Her specialty? The kind of heists that didn’t need bullets—just brains, beauty, and a little bourbon-fueled charm.

They say if you catch the faint scent of BOURBON and smoke on the night air, you’ve already been marked.

Pearl Cassidy wasn’t just a woman… she was a reckoning wrapped in lace and leather. And if you were lucky enough to survive her game, you’d spend the rest of your life wishing you could play it again.

Dead or alive?

Sugar, she’s the last drink you’ll ever take.