Page 3 of Riot

Lionel had already started mobilizing. Trying to rally a coup. It was a war he was never going to win. Thankfully, Riot just got there first.

We’d always been like that.

Two sides of the same coin.

Reckless and righteous.

I looked down at the two bodies. One monster. One maybe-not. Didn't matter now.

Riot lit a joint and blew out a slow stream of smoke.

“If Boaz has girls locked up,” he said, eyes dark, “I’ll free them myself.”

I nodded once.

We were already in too deep.

And if Boaz was keeping trophies like that…

Then the Kings were going to burn his whole empire to the ground.

Chapter 1

RIOT

Ever since I found out my brother was out here killing the nasty ass niggas that used to mess with kids in our Pop’s sex ring, I was all in. No hesitation. Shit felt right. Like I was finally doing something that counted—wiping scum off the earth. I did a lot of grimy shit in my life, but this? This made me feel like I could look God in the face and not flinch. I understood why Creed kept doing it. Killing men like that? It’s not murder—it’s cleanup.

Then Raz’s cousin opened his mouth, talkin’ about Boaz Haim. Said his daddy was on some sick shit too. Holding girls captive like pets, doing god-knows-what to ‘em in that big ass compound he got out in upstate New York. Talkin’ about girls locked in cages like animals. Nah. That don’t sit right with me.

I had to see it for myself.

I don’t move off rumors. I need proof. And I needed to see what kind of security Boaz had, how deep his protection ran. Dude wasn’t no corner dealer—he was a whole damn operation. Guards, gates, cameras, loyal killers. That type of setup don’t fall easy. It takes precision. Patience. Planning.

Lucky for me, the twisted asshole wanted a white tiger cub. I had one. And that was my in. I wasn’t just droppin’ off no damn animal—I was scoping the place out. Taking mental notes. Who posted up where. How many eyes. What kind of heat they carried. How long the guards rotated. I was prepping for war.

Freeing those girls? That was the mission. But first? I had to get close enough to make it happen without dying on entry. Boaz don’t know it yet, but he invited death into his front door. And death came smiling.

The ride through Upstate felt like therapy for niggas with bodies on their conscience. One hand on the wheel, the other flickin’ ash out the window, I let the silence work on me. Most folks would call it creepy—too quiet, too still. But me? I liked it. No sirens. No folks arguing through thin-ass walls. Just trees, thick and tall like guards on both sides, keeping the world out and my thoughts in. Out here, ain’t nobody checking tags or asking what you got stashed in the back. You could drive through the sticks with a cage full of death and nobody would blink twice.

I had business on my mind. But like always, he found a way to creep in.

That nigga. My Pops.

The man we once looked up to like a king, only to find out he was the devil wearing a tailored suit. We used to follow his lead. Then we found out what he really was—a monster who built his kingdom off kids. Selling them. Passing them around like party favors. We were just boys when he started molding us into soldiers, telling us we were the future. But the whole time, he was a disease.

Creed couldn’t pull the trigger. I could. Idid.

As soon as I found out who he really was, I hated him and decided then and there he didn’t deserve to draw another breath.

He ran international rings, made deals with devils, and smiled in our faces like he was proud. And I couldn’t live withthe lie another second. Creed took over the company after that—King Security & Logistics. He made it shine. Cleaned up the image, shook hands with feds and foreign presidents, played the game like he was born for it.

Me? I stayed in the mud. That’s where I’m most comfortable. I handle what can’t be traced or cleaned up with PR. I do what needs to be done. But even that was startin’ to wear on me. I ain’t soft—I just got tired of waking up to blood on my boots and ghosts in my chest. So I bought some land. Started a vineyard. Called it The King’s Vine. Grew something real. Something I could pass down that wasn’t soaked in violence.

I wasn’t out of the life completely, but I could see the exit clearly.

Behind me, there was a tiger cub that let out a low, groggy sound. It brought me back to the moment as I pulled up to Boaz’s estate.

The gates were tall as hell, and the surroundings were quiet like they had secrets. That rich-people quiet. Cypress trees hid everything from view. Cameras clocked every move I made, like the place had eyes in the sky. When the gates opened, they did it slowly.

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