Page 141 of Riot

The cover was worn, the corners slightly frayed. I sat back down and opened it carefully, page by page. My mother and aunt watched, but didn’t say a word.

There were pictures of cookouts and birthdays. My father holding a plate of ribs in one, smiling wide, his gold tooth catching the sun. My brother Carmelo standing next to him in another, arms crossed, teenage defiance written all over his face.

And then I turned to a page that stopped my heart cold.

There he was.

The man who’d been dying at the vineyard. The one who’d whispered my name with blood in his mouth and fear in his eyes.

His arm was slung around Carmelo in the photo. They were younger, both wearing matching fitted caps and t-shirts that screamed some forgotten crew name. His smile was lopsided. That same scar on his cheek. That same haunted look in his eyes, even back then.

I blinked, leaned closer.

Keontay.

In a flash the memories came back to me. That was my brother’s best friend before I was kidnapped. Years of living in that basement made me forget all about him.

And now he was dead. On Riot’s land. After trying to kill him.

Then it hit me. My brother knew I was there because he had something to do with the shooting.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

I closed the album, chest tight.

It wasn’t Boaz.

It wasmy brother.

The vineyard attack—the flanking, the timing, the shooters, the way it felt like it came from within the community rather than some foreign hit squad… it all made sense now. Boaz didn’t hire those men.

Carmelo did.

That’s how he knew I was there.

He sent his people into Riot’s home turf like it was war. Probably because he knows that Riot killed our father. How did he know?

I sat back, my hands trembling as the weight of it hit me.

My brother had orchestrated the hit.

“You okay, baby?” my mother asked.

I nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… memories.”

But my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I got up, walked into the hallway, and closed the door behind me.

I pressed my back to the wall and slid down to the floor.

I didn’t know what to do.

Carmelo was blood. He’d been there before Riot. He was family.

But Riot…

Riot had loved me through my broken. He’d risked everything to keep me safe. He’d held me when I was shaking and made me feel like maybe I was worth something after all.

Betraying my family would destroy everything I came from.

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