Page 103 of Riot

“You better,” I said. My voice was low, calm, but lethal. “Because if she becomes a problem, I’ll handle it my way. And next time, I won’t just throw her across the room.”

Rollo nodded. He knew I meant that shit. I wasn’t making threats. I was making promises.

He grabbed his keys and went after her.

The silence that followed was thick. Allure still hadn’t said a word. She stood there with her arms folded across her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.

I reached for her hand again. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

She nodded. Quiet. But she came with me.

Whatever Irina was now, she wasn’t their problem to carry anymore.

Chapter 34

ALLURE

By the time we got back to the brownstone, I could barely hold it together. The second Riot closed the door behind us, my legs gave out and I sank onto the couch like the weight of everything had finally snapped my spine. My face was hot, my chest was tight, and the tears came fast—silent at first, then sobs that shook through me like a storm that had been waiting too long to break.

I didn’t even try to pretend I was okay. Riot stood there for a second, watching me, his jaw ticking like he was holding himself back from punching a wall. And then he came over, knelt down in front of me, and wrapped those big arms around my waist. He pulled me into his chest and let me cry into him.

“Irina didn’t deserve that,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “She was my friend. She helped me get out. She put herself in danger for me.”

“And now she’s a threat,” he said, voice low but solid. “She’s not stable, Allure. You saw that shit. She came at you, hands swinging, talking crazy. That ain’t your friend no more.”

I shook my head, wiping my face, trying to make sense of all of it. “It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not. She put her hands on you. That makes it real simple. The last thing she said was that she was out for herself.” He looked me dead in the eye, and I could feel the steel underneath his words. “If she becomes a problem, I’ll handle it.”

My heart cracked a little more hearing that. Not because I thought he was wrong. But because I knew he meant it. And part of me didn’t want her to end up like her brother. Part of me still remembered the nights Irina snuck books and snacks into my room. The way she let me try on her heels when Boaz wasn’t looking. The way she gave me little pieces of the world when I had none.

But another part of me, the one that had lived ten years in captivity, knew that love wasn’t always enough to save people. Especially when they refused to save themselves.

I curled deeper into Riot’s chest, feeling his hand stroke my back, slow and steady. And somewhere in the ache of it all, that heat that always simmered between us started to rise again. My body knew his touch now. Trusted it. Craved it. And after what I’d just been through, I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to cry.

I wanted to feel alive.

I tilted my head up, brushing my lips against his. He kissed me back, slow and deep, his hand cradling the side of my face like I was something precious. I moaned into his mouth, letting my hands roam over his chest, down to his waistband. I tugged at it gently, needing more. Wanting more.

He pulled back, breathing hard. “What are you doing?”

“I need you,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Please…”

I reached again, but he caught my wrist this time, his eyes dark with that wild fire I was learning to love. “Ask me.”

I blinked. “What?”

He leaned in, lips brushing mine, teasing me. “Ask me nice. I want to hear it.”

My pride warred with my need for a second, but it was no contest. I wanted this. I wanted him. I didn’t care how soft I sounded. I didn’t care if it made me vulnerable.

“Please, Riot,” I whispered. “Make love to me. I’m ready. I want it. I want you.”

The air shifted between us then. It was thick with promise, with need, with something sacred. He stared at me like he was trying to memorize every curve of my face. Then he stood, took my hand, and led me upstairs without another word.

Riot's bedroom was a sanctuary of shadow and warmth when we entered, the streetlights casting amber patterns across his king-sized bed. He closed the door behind us, the soft click like a promise sealed. I stood there, heart thundering against my ribs, watching as he turned to me with eyes that burned like dark fire.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers cascading down my spine.

---