Page 47 of Riot

I swallowed and looked away, biting the inside of my cheek.

He handed me his phone anyway, and I took it with both hands, fingers trembling slightly at the unlocked the screen.

I opened the dial pad.

9-1-1.

“Operator, what’s your emergency?”

“Yes,” I said, voice shaking. “There are women being held against their will. Seven of them. In cages. At a compound. 1479 Windemere Hollow Road Tarry Glen, NY 10518. The man’s who owns the house is named Boaz Haim. Please—you have to hurry. And you might need a swat team because he has security there and they are armed.”

I was very exact and clear.

Then I felt the phone ripped from my hand.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Riot barked, his eyes wild with fury.

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He opened the window and hurled the phone into the night. I gasped as it disappeared into the dark.

“I needed to help them. Once Irina figures out I’m gone, she’s gonna tell her brother and he’ll kill the girls.”

“You can’t do shit like that without telling me first!”

“I—I thought I was doing the right thing—” I started, voice trembling.

“You should’ve told me!” he shouted. “You should’ve let me handle it. I would’ve had a crew go in kill everyone there, clean that shit up, made sure every last one of the girls got out. Quietly. Safely. But now? Now the cops are gonna show up. Boaz will have his crew out of that in a pinch. He’ll hunt those girls down and kill them all. And not to mention that call can be traced back to my phone.”

I covered my mouth, the tears coming fast.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t think?—”

He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, hard. Then he reached for me with the other and laid his hand on my thigh. Firm. Reassuring.

“Don’t cry,” he said, voice softening. “We’ll figure it out. I ain’t mean to yell at you like that. Don’t make moves like that without consulting me. Don’t do that ever again.”

This was the second time tonight he had demanded that I never do something again. I liked his authority but I felt bad for what I had done.

His palm was warm against my skin. And just like that, my body betrayed me—heat spiraling low in my belly, wetness blooming between my thighs. His touch did something to me. Calmed my panic and ignited something else. Something dangerous.

I looked at him, eyes blurry, heart racing.

Riot didn’t move his hand.

And I didn’t ask him to.

I just let it rest there—heavy, grounding, real—while the highway carried us away from everything I’d ever known.

By the time we pulled up to Riot’s estate, it was well past midnight. The drive had sobered me up in every way possible—emotionally, mentally, even spiritually. That call I made from his phone still burned in my chest. I thought I’d done the right thing. Ifeltlike I had.

But the look on his face when he snatched the phone and hurled it out the window?

That shit was worse than a slap.

Still, he didn’t turn the car around. Didn’t abandon me. Just kept driving—fast, focused, like a man with a plan.

And now here we were, pulling through the towering wrought-iron gates of a private compound hidden deep in the hills. A long, tree-lined driveway stretched before us, flanked by perfectly manicured hedges and black marble statues thatglinted under the moonlight. It was quiet out here—too quiet. Like the world didn’t even know this place existed.

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