Page 22

RIOT

It was quiet by the pool, the kind of stillness that only came after sundown.

The sky was a deep navy now, stars scattered overhead like someone had cracked open a jewelry box and flung it across the dark.

I’d turned on the underwater lights—soft blue and purple glowing beneath the surface—and lit the torches around the patio to cast just enough light without ruining the calm.

Allure sat across from me in one of the loungers, wrapped in my robe, her legs tucked beneath her.

Her skin caught the firelight in the most dangerous way—glowing, golden, like peace wrapped in a storm.

She hadn’t said much, just gave me a small smile when I brought out the seafood boil I'd ordered—crab legs, shrimp, sausage, corn, the whole spread. She hadn’t eaten like this in a long time, but the way she moved now, breaking crab with her fingers, licking garlic butter from her knuckles—she looked like she belonged to it. Like she was reclaiming something.

I cracked a claw and leaned back. “Tell me about your pops.”

She paused, just barely. Her hands slowed.

“He was a dangerous man,” she said, her tone even but distant.

The torches flickered across her face. She kept her eyes on her plate.

“What was he involved in?” I asked

“Drugs… you know the game…” she said.

“Yeah. Where was he working? I might know him.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she said, softer now.

I nodded. “You don’t have to.”

Some things didn’t need unpacking. They just needed presence. And I was here—for as long as she’d let me be.

If she wanted to wait until she told me more about her life then I would be patient for her unfolding.

She sucked a bit of garlic butter off her thumb, then looked up at me with those dark, curious eyes. “What about your father?”

I stiffened a little, still chewing, but I didn’t look away. “He was a dangerous man too.”

“How dangerous?” she asked, voice low.

I didn’t answer right away. I wiped my hands slowly on a napkin, eyes focused on the flame flickering in the torch beside us.

“So dangerous that I had to I kill him,” I said.

The words didn’t shock me anymore. But I knew they’d hit her different.

Her whole body went still. “You what?”

“I shot him,” I said, steady. “Point blank. Right in the head.”

She didn’t move. Just stared. And not with judgment—but something deeper. Like she was trying to decide if she should be afraid of me… or if she already understood.

“Why?” she finally asked.

I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. The night air was warm, but I felt cold inside just thinking about it.

“My brother, Creed… he found out the truth about him. That our father—Silas—had been running a pedo-ring for years. He was high-level, quiet with it. Kept it buried under layers of respectability. Family business. Church donations. Handshakes and fake smiles.” I shook my head.

“But he was sick. And he used his power to hurt kids.”

Allure brought a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. “Jesus.”

I nodded slowly. “We confronted him. Creed held him captive for months without telling me. He was afraid to pull the trigger. But I knew... if we didn’t kill him, he’d find a way to slip through the cracks. Men like him always do. So I did it myself.”

“You shot your own father…” she whispered, almost like she didn’t believe it.

“I had to,” I said. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

She looked down for a long time, then finally said, “That must’ve been hard.”

I tilted my head, watching her. “I’ve done harder.”

Her gaze lifted, brows pulling together. “Like what?”

I stared at her for a beat, then gave a half-shrug. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

The firelight danced in her eyes, but she didn’t press.

She just nodded, like she understood that even the darkest truths need time to come to the surface. And she didn’t scare easy—not after everything she’d seen.

Not after surviving the kind of hell we both knew too well.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just picked at a piece of corn, her fingers shiny with butter, eyes flicking toward the pool. The lights under the water shimmered across her face, and something about her shifted—like whatever wall she’d been holding in place was starting to crack.

“I wish I could go for a swim,” she said quietly, almost like she wasn’t talking to me but the night itself.

I looked up from my plate. “Yeah?”

She nodded slowly, still staring at the water like it was calling her.

I leaned back, rubbed the side of my jaw. “Damn. Should’ve had Abra grab you a swimsuit.”

That smirk of hers curled at the corner of her mouth. That shy, knowing kind of smile that was starting to become my favorite fucking thing to witness.

“You did say I was free now…”

I raised a brow. “You tryna swim naked?”

Her lips parted, but her voice didn’t waver. “Only if you’re down. ”

I tilted my head, eyeing her. She had a wild side that I wasn’t expecting. Our first kiss had me already wanting more but I was going to keep my dick to myself until she was begging for it.

“I’m always down to make you wet. ”

She smiled and then laughed. That laugh—man, that laugh—came out of her like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t wild, but it was real. It took ten pounds off my chest hearing her laugh like that.

“I could use a little joy,” she said, voice softer now. Honest.

There was a moment—one of those rare, suspended moments—where we just stared at each other. The air got thick, charged. Not just with heat, but with something heavier. Something like trust. Like need. Like she wanted to remember what it felt like to be a woman again, not just a survivor.

“Aight,” I said, standing. “Let’s do it.”

She hesitated only a second before she rose too. Slid off my robe with a grace that made my heart stutter. I watched her unveil her body as she walked toward the pool. And it stopped me cold.

She wasn’t just beautiful.

She was raw. Radiant. Whole and fractured all at once.

Moonlight clung to her skin like worship. Every curve, every scar, every piece of her that had been stolen and reclaimed was on full display. And she didn’t flinch. Didn’t hide. She walked like she was taking her body back with every step. And I damn near fell to my knees watching her.

I pulled off my shirt and dropped my sweats, trying to calm the riot that had exploded in my chest. Not just desire—though that was there, loud and clear—but something else. Something reverent.

The water greeted us like it had been waiting.

She floated first, arms stretched out wide, head tilted back, her hair fanning out behind her like ink in water. Then she slipped under and came up gasping, laughing, wiping her face.

“Damn,” she breathed. “That feels good. I feel so damn free.”

“You look good,” I said, eyes locked on her.

She paddled toward me, slow and deliberate. “Not bad yourself.”

We swam without talking for a while, just moving around each other, letting the water soften what the world had hardened. Then she climbed onto the shallow ledge and leaned back against the tile, water sliding down her chest, catching in the hollow of her collarbone.

I moved toward her before I could stop myself.

Her legs brushed mine under the surface. Her hands found my shoulders.

I pressed my forehead to hers. Her breathing slowed. Mine matched hers.

I could’ve taken it further. God knows I wanted to. But I didn’t.

She needed this.

She needed to be held, not devoured.

She needed presence, not pressure.

And I was falling into her—fuck, I was falling—and it scared me more than any shootout ever had.

When she kissed me, it wasn’t lust. It was something more fragile. A reach. A test.

I kissed her back like she was something precious.

Because she was.

Later, when the night got too cool, I pulled her out of the water and wrapped her in a thick terry robe. She leaned into me without a word.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For easing my mind.”

I ran my fingers along her jaw, anchoring her. “You helped with that.”

We stood there for a beat, just breathing in sync, firelight dancing on wet skin.

“I’m gonna help you find out who did it,” I told her. “Once Boaz is handled... we’ll figure out who killed your pops. You’ve got my word.”

Her chin trembled, but she nodded, eyes locked on mine like they were holding her together.

I took her hand and we walked back into the house. Quiet. Heavy with unspoken things.

We showered separately. Gave each other space. She needed that too.

But when I came into the room, she was already in my bed, curled up in one of my shirts like it was armor. Like it meant something.

I slid in beside her, and she didn’t say a word. Just moved into me.

Let her body settle into mine like it belonged there.

And that night, we didn’t talk.

We didn’t fuck.

We talked some more, getting to know one another. And then we slept together and she felt so fuckin’ right in my arms.