Page 110 of Riot

“I know that now, but?—”

“You didn’t look for me?” My voice cracked, sharp with disbelief.

Her eyes filled with tears, but they felt like a deflection, not regret. “We thought you were dead. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Why wouldn’t you find out who did it and avenge my death. Daddy had the muscle.” I pressed. “Why did daddy stop looking? Why did you just give up?”

Silence. Long. Heavy.

Then finally, “We did what we could.”

“No. You didn’t. You did what was convenient.” I stood, heat creeping up my neck. “Tell me the truth. Did he look for me?”

She looked up, and I could see it guilt, buried deep in the lines of her face. “Allure…”

“Tell me why my father didn’t come for me!”

She didn’t answer. Just stared at me with this hollow look in her eyes, like the truth was rotting inside her and she didn’t have the strength to say it out loud.

That’s when I knew.

She wasn’t telling me everything.

And maybe she never would.

But I had waited ten years for someone to come save me. And it came via the help of strangers. Not those that I thought loved me. My mother was holding something back and I’ll eventually find out what really happened. No matter what it cost.

The reunion with my mother was bittersweet. On one hand, I was happy to see her. On the other hand, there was something strange in the way that she received me. It was as if she wasn’t as happy to see me.

When I got outside, I called an Uber Black to take me back to Riot. His presence made everything fade away. Whenever I was with him, he made me forget the horrors I had once faced. Being around my mother made it all come back.

As I settled in the backseat of the ride, I texted my cousin Diori.

Me: Something is off with my mother.

Diori: What do you mean?

Me: She just seems very weird when I ask about my father or why they didn’t come for me. I need you to ask around and find out why they didn’t come for me.

Diori: I’ll get on that for you. Love you, sis.

Me: Love you too.

Hopefully, I’d have some answers soon.

When I walked back into the brownstone, everything in me exhaled. It was like the second the door closed behind me, the tension that had been living in my shoulders since I’d seen my mother finally loosened its grip. Riot’s scent hit me first and then the sound of music floating low from the Bose speakers.

“Baby?” I called out.

“I’m down here,” he replied from below, voice echoing up from the basement.

I blinked. The basement? I hadn’t even seen that part of the house yet.

I followed the sound down the narrow stairwell and stepped into a space that made me stop cold.

It was a studio.

My studio.

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