Page 126 of Riot

“Allure…”

I didn’t hesitate. I put one right between his eyes. It was self defense since he still had that gun in his hand.

He dropped.

I turned toward her. “You know him?”

She stood near the glass door, stunned but steady. “He looks…familiar. I don’t know from where. I can’t place it.”

My jaw clenched.

I didn’t like that. Didn’t like that her past was bleeding into my present. What the fuck was that about? Maybe it was someone who rolled with Boaz and that’s how she knew him.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Fast.

Good.

Creed radioed our inside guy, locking down the grounds. Rollo holstered his piece, already giving statements to a trembling assistant who caught it all on a livestream. Guests were ushered inside. Someone screamed that the senator had fainted.

Whatever.

I looked down at the body again.

Tat on the neck. Old scar across the jaw. Dirt under the fingernails.

This wasn’t random. This was personal.

And that meant we were just getting started. But where in the fuck was Havoc?

Chapter 44

HAVOV

I hoped they were dead.

As fucked up as it sounded, as treacherous as it felt—I hoped Carmelo’s crew had smoked both them niggas and left the courtyard painted in King blood.

I’d posted up behind the arbor on the far lawn like a good little soldier. That’s what I told them I’d be. Securing the east side, making sure the perimeters stayed tight. But I wasn’t securing shit. I was listening. Watching. Waiting for the chaos to do what I’d quietly prayed it would, dismantle the myth of the perfect King brothers.

When the first gunshots rang out, my pulse didn’t jump. My breathing didn’t change. I just closed my eyes for half a second and let the sound wash over me like church bells.

Please, I’d thought. Let them be dead.

Let all that shine get smeared in blood.

But when I crept up along the edge of the courtyard and peeked through the iron fencing—my stomach dropped.

There was Riot, tall and arrogant, jaw set like a fuckin’ movie star, suit half open like he just saved the goddamn world. And Creed right next to him, calm and surgical, coordinating clean-up like he was back in the damn Marines. No limps. No blood. No fear in their eyes. Just war-readiness and that goddamn brotherly bond that always shut me out.

My jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

They were alive.

Alive, and probably already planning their next move. Probably already chalking this up as a minor setback, another story for the legend. But they were wrong if they thought this was over. Wrong if they thought I’d roll over and let another missed opportunity pass me by.

Unfortunately, I now had to answer to Carmelo. He was going to be pissed about that my brothers were still alive.

I emerged from the shadows, slow and deliberate, gun still in hand. The courtyard was scattered with bodies and broken glass. Blood streaked the stone near the fountain. Guests were crying or filming or both. Smoke still lingered in the air.

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