Page 37

RIOT

Her head was resting on my chest, our bodies tangled in sweat-slick sheets and silence. That quiet didn’t feel heavy though. It felt earned. Like we’d cracked something open between us and were letting the truth breathe.

The weight of her thigh draped across mine, her fingertips tracing lazy circles along the ridges of my stomach. She was still catching her breath, but there was a glow to her now—something soft and sure in the way she clung to me, in the way her body had opened, trusted, invited.

“You okay?” I asked again, quieter this time. My hand stroked up and down her back, slow and grounding.

“I’m more than okay,” she whispered, her voice barely there. “I feel… different. Like something inside me shifted. Like something I didn’t know I needed just clicked into place.”

I didn’t say anything right away. Just held her tighter, my lips pressing to the top of her head. I didn’t want to fuck this up with words. Didn’t want to overthink it or underplay it. I just wanted to stay in this moment a little longer, where everything felt clean and still.

Then she tilted her face up to mine, eyes full and glowing like moonlight on deep water.

“I love you,” she said.

No hesitation. No question in her tone. Just a fact, like she’d known it for a while and finally had the courage to say it out loud.

It hit me hard. Like something slid into place in my chest too.

“I love you, Allure,” I said back, voice hoarse and real.

And I meant that shit. Every syllable.

We stayed like that for another minute, just breathing each other in. Her skin was soft and warm under my hand. Her presence had settled something in me I didn’t know needed settling.

But then she shifted again. Lifted her head and looked at me with a different kind of weight behind her eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nodded, even though I already had a feeling where this was going.

“Malia,” she said. “You never told me what really happened between you two.”

My jaw flexed. I stared up at the ceiling for a second, chest tightening. The name tasted like ash in my mouth, but I knew I owed her the truth.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s time.”

I stayed quiet for a long time. Not because I didn’t want to tell her. But because I wasn’t sure how to wrap words around something that still clawed at my soul. Some truths don’t sit clean in your mouth. They burn on the way out. And this one? This one had scorched me from the inside for years.

She didn’t press. Just waited, eyes steady on mine, fingers still moving gently over my chest like she was trying to soothe the storm she knew was coming.

“Malia was my first love,” I finally said.

The words came low, gritty, pulled from someplace I usually kept locked tight.

“We met when I was seventeen. Young, stupid, and already deep in the streets. But she made me feel like there was more to life than just blood and business. She had this laugh that made everything else fade out. And when she looked at me, I believed I was more than Silas King’s son. ”

Allure didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just listened. I was uncomfortable talking about some other bitch with her but she asked.

“I thought I was gonna marry her,” I said, voice thick. “We used to talk about getting out. Starting fresh somewhere. Just the two of us. I wanted that shit so bad. I would’ve left everything behind if she asked me to.”

My hand came up to rub my jaw, like I could scrub the memory off my skin. But it was etched too deep.

“What happened?” Allure asked softly.

I stared at the ceiling like it might give me strength. Then I let it fall.

“She set me up.”

The silence stretched.

“Her brothers were trying to get in deep with some rival crew out in Queens. To prove themselves, they had to get at me. Still the stash I was moving at the time. I didn’t know at the time.

She only got close to me to get close to the operation.

They waited until I was comfortable, until I trusted her so deep I stopped carrying at night.

And then they made their move. Home invasion.

They tied me up. Beat me. Tried to get into the safes. ”

Allure gasped, but I wasn’t done.

“I was gonna let it go,” I said. “I swear to God. I told myself I’d walk away. I wouldn’t retaliate. I’d disappear. Chalk it up to heartbreak and stupidity.”

Her hand found mine and squeezed.

“But my father found out.”

I closed my eyes, jaw locking as the next part came clawing out.

“He said if I let her get away with it, I’d be weak. Said the family would lose respect for me. That I’d be seen as a mark. A joke. So he handled it. Had her kidnapped. Brought her to the warehouse we used for interrogations. And then… he told me I had to do it.”

The memory hit like a gut punch.

“She was tied to a chair. Bruised, crying. Still beautiful. I couldn’t look at her without remembering the way she used to laugh against my neck. The way she used to whisper my name with love.”

I felt Allure’s fingers tightening around mine, grounding me. But the next words still nearly broke me.

“He made me kill her.”

The air in the room changed. The weight of that truth pressing against both our chests now.

“I slit her throat,” I said, voice cracking. “Watched the light go out of her eyes. And I told myself she deserved it. I tried to believe it. Tried to make it feel like justice.”

“But it didn’t,” Allure said quietly.

“No,” I whispered. “It felt like dying.”

I swallowed hard, the memory sharper than any blade.

“She was pregnant,” I added, the words barely making it out.

Allure gasped, hand flying to her chest.

“I didn’t know until I saw the news. Her autopsy report. Five weeks along. And it was mine. I’m the reason that baby never had a chance.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

“And the worst part? I knew something was different that night. I could smell it. Something in her scent was softer. Sweeter. Like her body was already shifting. That’s how I knew, even before the article. My instincts told me, and I ignored them.”

Allure sat up and cradled my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over my cheeks. I didn’t realize I was crying until she wiped the tears away.

“I carry that shit every day,” I whispered. “Every fucking day. I picture her with a little girl. With our child. And I wonder who I could’ve been if I walked away instead of letting him turn me into something I hated.”

Allure didn’t say anything at first. She just held me. Pressed her lips to my forehead and let me breathe.

“You’re not that man anymore,” she whispered into my skin. “You’re not your father.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face in her neck. Her body was soft, her presence steady, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe I could be forgiven. Not by the world. Not by the ghosts. But by her.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.