Page 136 of Riot

He groaned, dropping his forehead to mine. "That's my good girl. My perfect, broken girl."

His hand moved between us, fingers finding my clit, and that was all it took. I shattered around him, crying out his name likea prayer and a curse. He followed me over, filling me with his release while whispering dark promises against my skin.

We stayed connected, both breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. When he finally pulled out, I felt the loss like a physical ache.

"This doesn't change anything," I said, voice hoarse.

He traced a finger down my cheek, catching a tear. "It changes everything."

"I still hate you."

"I know." He kissed me softly this time, almost tender. "But you're still gonna stay. You're still gonna let me fuck you. And eventually? You're gonna love me for killing him."

slid out from beneath him the second I felt him soften, my body aching, my soul cracked wide open. The sheets clung to my skin like a second shame, and when my feet hit the floor, I felt cold all over.

“I can’t be here right now,” I said, reaching for the hoodie I’d tossed to the side earlier. My voice was shredded, trembling, but still mine.

He didn’t move from the bed, just watched me with that maddening calm. Like he already knew how this ended.

“You’ll be back,” he said simply, like he was stating the weather.

“No,” I snapped, pulling the hoodie over my head. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to know that.”

His eyes darkened, but his voice stayed smooth. “We both know what this is.”

I turned, grabbing my bag, my phone. “This?” I let out a bitter laugh. “This is trauma. This is betrayal. This is a woman losing her goddamn mind over the man who murdered her father.”

“Your father wasn’t a good man,” Riot said, rising from the bed with the slow grace of a lion. “You know that.”

“And neither are you!” I shouted, the words sharp enough to draw blood. “You say Boaz painted your vineyard red, but you’ve been painting me with your darkness from the start.”

He moved closer, but I stepped back.

“Don’t.”

He stopped, but the look on his face said he didn’t have to touch me to own me.

“You leaving?” he asked, voice low.

I nodded. “I have to.”

I turned toward the door, heart racing, lungs tight, legs made of static.

“Keep your location on,” he said behind me, cocky and composed like I hadn’t just tried to break up with him.

I didn’t answer.

Because we both knew I would.

Chapter 47

RIOT

I knew she’d be back. Didn’t matter how loud she slammed the door or how hard she tried to make that goodbye stick, she’d be back. Women like Allure didn’t just walk away from men like me. Not because they were weak. But because the kind of bond we had… it didn’t dissolve. It burned. And when it burned, it left a mark you couldn’t cut out.

Still, I hadn’t slept.

I’d stayed up staring out the window, watching the skyline turn from night to ash gray morning. Puff after puff of the blunt in my hand, ash piling in the tray like a ritual I couldn’t stop repeating. The air in the brownstone was stale with smoke and tension, and my thoughts kept circling the same fucked-up orbit.

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