Page 129 of Riot

“I don’t know shit about who they are fuckin’. I know Creed is with Sloane and today Riot did have a date… Oh shit that.Her.He ain’t introduce me to her but yeah, I know who you’re talking about now.”

“Yeah, she gon help me kill your brother if you don’t get your shit together. I lost a lotta good men today.”

I shrugged. “They weren’t that good. Couldn’t even shoot. Not one King got hit.”

I should’ve kept my mouth shut. The second the words left, I knew I fucked up.

His face darkened. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth. Don’t disrespect my people. Especially not my man Keontay. That’s family. He died today. We been homies since we were 10.”

Something clicked.

“Keontay?” I asked. “Was that the one with a scar under his eye and a neck tat? Grim Reaper or some shit?”

Carmelo’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

I nodded, solemn. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

But inside, I wasn’t sorry.

If dude got close enough to be seen, he should’ve gotten a shot off. Period. Anything else was reckless. Soft.

Carmelo stood and walked toward me, slow and controlled like a panther. “Let me make something real fuckin’ clear.”

I held my breath.

“You get one more shot. One. You fuck this up again, and I’m not just killing you. I’ll kill your bitch. I’ll kill your son. And I’ll make sure they feel it slow.”

My heart stopped for half a beat.

He meant it. I saw it in his eyes. This wasn’t tough talk. This was a promise. A death sentence wrapped in opportunity.

I nodded once, jaw tight, fury bubbling like acid in my chest.

“Understood,” I said.

But inside?

Inside I was carving the date into my mental calendar. Because the second my brothers were in the ground and I’d finally shattered the image of the golden King bloodline I was coming back for Carmelo.

He’d made one fatal mistake.

He threatened my kid.

And for that, he was already dead.

Chapter 45

ALLURE

Tonight was going to be one of those nights where I didn’t get any sleep. Not just because of the gunshots that still echoed in my ears or the blood I’d seen splashed across cream-colored linen. Not because of the senator screaming or the shattered wine glasses crunching beneath my heels as I ran from the chaos.

No.

It washisface. The man who recognized me.

I saw him for maybe two seconds—if that. But it was enough to freeze my spine. He had a very familiar look in his eye. There was something about it that I knew that I should’ve recognized but I didn’t.

There was so much behind that look. It said:You're not safe. Not anymore.

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