Page 180 of Riot

Allure disappeared down the hall with Jasir in her arms, her movements fluid and silent like she’d been bracing for this moment. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask questions.

I turned back to Abra.

She was still sobbing. Still trying to salvage whatever image she thought she had left. But the mask had slipped. And all I saw was betrayal.

“We watched her deteriorate all this time and you didn’t say shit. We would’ve taken care of you. Given you whatever. I just told you I was about to hire you. I was gonna get you on the board.”

“I was desperate,” she whispered.

I raised the gun before she could say anything else. Her mouth opened in protest, but no sound came.

Creed didn’t stop me.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t beg for logic or mercy. He just gave a slight nod. One of those brother-to-brother things. Likedo what you gotta do.

So I did.

The gunshot cracked through the house like a whip. Abra dropped to the floor, her scream cut off before it could finish forming.

Blood pooled beneath her head like spilled wine.

I stood there, breathing heavy. Hand still on the trigger. My ears ringing with the sound of it.

Creed stepped beside me, looking down at her body. Then he looked at me.

“No one else could’ve done it,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know who to trust anymore,” I admitted, my voice hoarse. “Everyone’s got an angle. A mask. Even the people closest.”

Creed turned to me. “You can trustme.”

He paused, then added, “And Allure. She’s real. She’s ride or die. She’s already proved that.”

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the weight of his words settle. The truth of them.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “I know.”

Hopefully Abra was the final nail in the coffin. I was still fucked up that she was the one that poisoned our mother. I didn’t even consider looking for someone else but Havoc. He was telling the truth about that one.

Chapter 62

ALLURE

There are moments you don’t realize you’ve been waiting your whole life for until you’re standing in them, still, quiet, and full. This was one of those moments.

I stood just off to the side of the vineyard aisle, fingers laced with Riot’s, my other hand cradling the curve of my growing belly. My chest felt tight, but not from fear or grief. It was fullness. Contentment. Awe. The kind that steals your breath and replaces it with something softer. Truer.

We were watching Creed marry Sloane, two people who had survived their own share of wreckage and somehow still found the courage to love. To stand before the world and say “you’re it”. Watching them felt like looking at a mirror of what we were building. What we were becoming.

And for once, I wasn’t just witnessing someone else’s happiness.

I was living my own.

A few rows behind us, Jasir giggled while a flower girl twirled her dress beside him. He’d been calling me “Mama” more andmore lately, unprompted. Riot said it was instinct. That Jasir could feel who I was to him, even if no one had drawn the lines.

And maybe he was right.

Because love had nothing to do with blood. I knew that now. I felt it every time that little boy wrapped his arms around my legs and begged to help me pick fabric or sketch dresses. He was part of me now. Just like this baby growing inside of me. Just like Riot.

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