Page 169 of Riot

Not until I got Mimi.

I didn’t tell Allure where I was going. She’d try to stop me. Say some shit like“This baby ain’t responsible,”like love alone could fix bloodlines poisoned by vengeance. But I knew what had to be done.

Mimi was the last ghost. The last open wound.

I found her holed up in a ragged-ass apartment two blocks off 135th. It was easy to find her after hacking her computer. I could see the apartment from where I stood on the street.

My chest was tight thinking about what I had to do. I had to take this woman out and take that child out. I knew that Allure would look at me differently, but she ain’t understand. Babies grow up. He’ll wonder where his real father and mother are. And when he finds out I killed them, he’ll kill me—or at least try. So then, I’d be killing this lil’ nigga when he’s about sixteen. I might as well get it over with now.

I was working alone. I told Creed I could handle this myself. This was my body to bury. Mimi was Malia’s sister. She was only vengeful because of what I had did to her sister and potential niece or nephew.

Sometimes, I wonder—if my father hadn’t pressured me, would I have let that shit go with Malia? I didn’t want the streets to think I was soft by allowing a woman and her brothers to rob me. But at the same time, it wasn’t that much money and drugs that they took. It was easy to recoup afterwards.

And besides, she was carrying my seed.

Yeah, if I could do things differently, I would’ve forced Malia to hand over our child once it was born in exchange for her life. Let me raise our kid and you go do you since you robbed me. But that ain’t the way shit went down. I found out she was pregnant too late.

I headed towards the building. The elevator was broke, so I took the stairs slow. Each step felt like a countdown. I was calm and prepared to do what needed to be done. I had made peace with killing a small child.

I kicked the door open. No knocking. No warning.

She looked up from a half-packed duffel like she knew it was me before I stepped through. Jasir was clinging to her leg, wideeyes and soft curls, holding onto a beat-up lion like it could save him.

The look on her face wasn’t fear.

It was hate.

But damn, that boy looked just like her side of the family. He had Malia’s eyes.

“So you killed Havoc?” she hissed.

“Of course. He killed my aunt, my mother, and he tried to kill me,” I said.

Her jaw dropped as she looked at me with fear.

“He had it in him,” she sighed, looking down at her son.

“He did. But I got way more in me. You and that baby about to meet y’all’s maker.”

“Please, Riot. Not my son. He’s just one,” she begged.

I looked down at him as he looked up at me with wide eyes. Fuck. There was no way I could turn a gun onto a baby.

If I did, I would be just like Silas. And I am not that man. I’m so much better than him. Creed had been telling me to stop being so impulsive and to grow up. And he’s right. If I killed this kid, I would be going backwards. This kid deserved life. He deserved to have what Havoc didn’t have—love, stability, loyalty.

“Get him out the room,” I said.

She stared at me for a beat too long. But then she grabbed Jasir, handed him a tablet and headphones, and disappeared into the back. Then she returned.

“Well?” she said, arms crossed. “Gonna kill me too?”

“Definitely,” I said. “You egged my brother on. Got in his head. And if I don’t end this shit now, you’ll do the same to Jasir. Listen—before I put this bullet in your head, I wanna make you a promise.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “You want to promise me something? What?! Like the promises you made Malia beforeyou slit her throat? I used to hear y’all on the phone. Hear you say how much you loved her, how you’d take care of her forever.”

I flinched at that name.Malia.

It still echoed inside me like broken glass.

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