Page 125 of Riot

Everything was running smooth.

And that’s when I felt it.

That quiet pull in my gut. Like the air shifted just a little. Not fear. Not nerves. Just… instinct. The kind that kept a man like me alive.

I didn’t say anything. Just made a mental note: be ready.

Because when shit feels too perfect, that’s usually when something breaks.

Rollo’s head jerked toward the gate like something invisible tugged it there.

“Yo,” he said, squinting. “You see that?”

I followed his line of sight. There was a man hanging just outside the iron gates. Hoodie up. Pacing like he was waiting for someone, or trying not to be noticed. But the fidgeting gave him away. That, and the way he kept looking over his shoulder like he had a ghost chasing him.

Rollo straightened, hand drifting toward his waistband. “That’s not one of ours.”

I clocked the nigga’s outfit. Our security was dressed in all black suits with black button ups. Despite the formality, they all had guns in their waistbands. And due to the nature of the event, they were all legal and registered.

But this nigga was no dressed right for this event. He wasn’t a guest. Definitely not our security. Where the fuck was Havoc? He was supposed to be keeping an eye for this shit.

“Yo!” Rollo shouted. “We got a?—”

Gunfire cracked the air.

The guy didn’t wait for conversation. He pulled out a Glock and started spraying.

Rollo dropped behind a wine barrel, returning fire without hesitation. Screams ripped through the courtyard. Glass shattered. Somebody in a power suit hit the deck, wine all over their chest like blood.

Creed was already moving—calm, fast, like he’d done this shit before. Because he had. Me too.

I ducked behind a table and drew my piece from the holster stitched into my blazer. “Stay down!” I barked to the crowd, pointing toward the ground. “Security lockdown, now!”

Sloane yanked a reporter behind a column. Allure was already pulling Abra out of the way, her heels scraping on stone as they ducked inside the nearest building.

Another shot cracked from the far end of the vineyard.

“Fuck,” I hissed. “They’re flanking.”

“North side!” Creed shouted, firing off a shot that dropped one of the motherfuckers trying to vault the low fence near the vines. Another man screamed and scrambled backward, dragging his leg behind him.

I charged toward him, aiming, heart pounding but my hand steady. Creed covered me from the west while Rollo kept the east side in check. Two of our guards clipped another assailant trying to run. It wasn’t a full-blown war—but it was a hit.

A message.

Gunfire rang out and then it ended. I looked around and none of my men nor guests were hit. I heard cars speeding away from the parking lot. The assailants were bailing but there were a few of their bodies left on my fuckin’ property.

I was so pissed that this shit happened. This was the most important day of my life and it was marked in blood. It was so embarrassing to have all of these guests here and for them to be put in harms ways.

Who the hell set us up? It couldn’t have been Boaz? He wouldn’t have hired some black dudes to take me out. He’d go in house and find some Israelis. Or perhaps he was scared that I would recognize him so he switched shit up and hired some dumb street kids. Those niggas couldn’t aim for shit. They ain’t kill a single person. But got a few themselves killed.

I saw one of them crawling—barely breathing. Blood soaking his jeans. His gun was still in his hand and he was tremoring as if he were trying to lift his hand to shoot me. He rolled over just enough to catch a glimpse of the courtyard… and that’s when I saw it.

His eyes landed on Allure as she and others walked out to survey the damage.

He froze. Then whispered something.

Her name.

---