Page 160 of Riot

Silence.

Then Creed, low and sharp: “Havoc.”

My fingers curled around the steering wheel.

It all made sense now. The dementia symptoms. The confusion. The sudden weight loss. The timing.

He’d been doing it. Slowly. Deliberately. This nigga was so bitter that he would be so cowardly to poison our mother. Cancer and lead poisoning. My mother was about to die because he was a little bitch. I swear my father’s sins will never stop haunting us.

Creed slammed his palm against the dashboard. “We should’ve fucking seen it.”

“He wanted us distracted,” I growled. “He wanted us broken.”

“Well, now we’re focused.”

I nodded slowly, rage boiling in my chest like a live wire sparking in water.

“I’m gonna find him,” I said. “And when I do?”

Creed glanced at me, eyes dead cold.

“He’s gonna regret the day he was fuckin’ born.”

Chapter 54

ALLURE

Irina’s body shook in my arms. She didn’t make a sound, not at first. Just buried her face in my shoulder, fingers fisting the back of my shirt like I was the last thing tethering her to this reality. It wasn’t until I pulled her tighter that the sob finally broke loose—sharp, gutting, raw.

I’d held women before. Screaming girls in Boaz’s basement. Cracked-open souls trying to piece themselves back together in the dark. But this… this was different. This was grief before the confirmation. Dread that bloomed in the absence of closure.

“I can’t breathe,” Irina whispered.

“You are,” I said gently, stroking her curls. “You are.”

I felt bad for her. She had lost all of her family and was mostly on her own now. I knew the feeling all too well.

She pulled back, eyes red, mascara streaked down her cheeks like war paint. “Where is he, Allure? Why would he just vanish like this? Rollo’s not… he’s not reckless. Not like that. And even if he was—he’d call me. He’d check on me.”

My throat ached. I didn’t know what to say.

We were sitting on the couch in Riot’s brownstone, the oil diffuser spread the scent of amber through the room. Everything felt dim. Even the light in our eyes. I had a bad feeling about Rollo

“I keep thinking I’ll hear his keys at the door,” she said, voice breaking again. “I keep thinking this is a mistake. A mix-up. Maybe he left his phone. Maybe…”

But we both knew.

We knew it in the same way you know a storm’s coming before the sky turns black. It’s in your bones before it’s on the radar.

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear hit the back of my hand. I wiped it away quickly, like grief needed permission to stay. It didn’t.

Riot came in a few minutes later, the front door clicking shut with quiet finality. His shoes were still dusty from wherever he’d been, his jaw tight with murder. I didn’t have to ask—he wore the answer in the lines of his face.

He looked at Irina, then at me. “It was Havoc,” he said. “He took Rollo.”

Irina whimpered, curling inward.

Riot walked over, crouched down, and rested a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear. But it’s what we’ve got.”

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