Page 52

Allure

I sat at the kitchen counter, my fingers wrapped around a mug of chamomile tea I hadn’t touched.

It was cold now.

The sun had already gone down, and the brownstone was quiet. And it felt empty without his presence. I missed him so much and it had only been day. He wasn’t home and I wasn’t sure where he was. He was probably out handling business.

But when he walked through that door, I was going to tell him everything.

No more hiding. No more guilt dragging me in opposite directions until I split in two.

He deserved the truth.

And I needed to say it out loud just to survive it.

I glanced at the clock again—10:42 p.m. My leg was bouncing under the barstool, heart knocking against my ribs like it was trying to break out. I didn’t know if I wanted him to hold me… or hate me.

The front door clicked open.

Footsteps. Measured. Heavy. His.

I stood up too fast, the stool scraping against the floor. My heart slammed against my chest when he stepped into the kitchen, shirt damp with sweat, jaw tight, Glock tucked into the waistband of his pants, a reminder of who he was.

His eyes found mine instantly.

And everything I’d rehearsed vanished.

“Allure,” he said, low.

“I was wrong,” I blurted, voice cracking.

He froze.

“I was wrong,” I said again, chest rising fast. “About everything. About you. About my father.”

His gaze stayed on me, hard and unreadable. The kind of stare that could burn a person alive or break them open.

I walked toward him, slow and shaky.

“My father wasn’t who I thought he was,” I said. “He wasn’t some tragic man who lost his way. He sold me. To Boaz. Over a gambling debt.”

Riot’s face didn’t move, but I saw the shift in his eyes. That flicker of rage and understanding. Like puzzle pieces snapping into place.

“My mother and aunt confirmed it,” I whispered. “I overheard them. He didn’t just get caught up. He chose to give me away. And then he lied about it for years.”

My voice cracked.

“I spent ten years locked away in a cage because of the man who was supposed to protect me. And I still carried him in my heart like he was everything. Like he deserved my grief.”

The tears came hard now. Hot and sudden. I didn’t try to stop them.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “For pointing that gun at you. For walking away. For not seeing the truth.”

Riot moved then. Closed the space between us in two steps. His arms came around me like steel gates, locking me into the one place that felt safe. I collapsed into his chest, sobbing hard, the sound torn from somewhere deep inside me.

He didn’t speak right away.

Just held me.

One hand on the back of my head. The other curved around my spine, pressing me into his warmth, his breath, his strength.

“I hated him for what he did,” Riot finally said, voice low against my temple. “Not because he was your father. But because he was a threat. Because he tried to take something from us.”

I nodded against his chest, gripping his shirt like it was the only thing holding me together.

“You were right,” I whispered. “Even when I didn’t want you to be.”

We stayed like that for a long moment, my tears soaking into his skin, his arms unflinching like he could shoulder the whole weight of my pain.

But I wasn’t done.

There was more.

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “There’s something else.”

His brow ticked. “Go ahead.”

“The attack at the vineyard…” I swallowed. “It wasn’t Boaz.”

His body went still. All the heat in the room shifted.

“I know who one of the shooters was,” I said. “The one who whispered my name before he died. I saw his picture in an old album at my aunt’s place. It was Keontay. My brother Carmelo’s best friend when we were kids.”

Riot’s face darkened instantly.

“I didn’t put it together until I saw that photo. And then my brother called me to tell me that he knew I was at the vineyard. He was involved. I know he was.”

He stepped back, running a hand down his face. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Positive.”

“I wished you would’ve told me that at the time.”

Something shifted in his eyes. Gone was the softness from a minute ago. That tender rage he reserved just for me. What replaced it was colder. Sharper. Something old and dangerous rising to the surface.

He looked like war.

“I’m gonna find him,” he said, voice flat. “And I’m gonna kill him.”

My stomach flipped.

“Riot—”

“No.” He held up a hand. “He tried to kill me. He tried to kill you . At my event. With press, investors, politicians watching. That was a hit.”

I stayed quiet, heart pounding.

“He doesn’t get a pass for being your brother,” Riot growled. “He doesn’t get a pass for anything .”

I nodded slowly. “I’m not asking you to spare him.”

His jaw twitched.

“I just needed to tell you the truth.”

His hand found my face again, rough palm against my cheek. “You did.”

He kissed me then—deep, possessive, full of that wordless promise he carried in his bones.

When he pulled back, his voice was quiet. Dangerous. Absolute.

“I’m gonna put your past in the ground,” he said. “And then we’ll figure out the future.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. And by the way, Boaz and Avi are dead now.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. I swayed on my feet.

"What?"

"They're dead. Both of them." His eyes stayed on mine, watching my reaction. "Handled it tonight."

My breath caught. The man who'd kept me in a cage for ten years. Gone. Just like that.

"How do you feel about that?" he asked, voice low.

I searched inside myself for grief. For shock. For anything that resembled loss.

Nothing.

Just relief. And something else. Something darker that had been building since I walked through his door.

"Free," I whispered.

His grip on my face tightened. "Say it again."

"Free."

The word broke something between us. He rushed his mouth to mine, and this kiss was nothing like before. This was possession. Claiming. The kind of kiss that rewrote history and burned away the past.

I gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. His hands moved to my waist, lifting me onto the counter in one smooth motion. The cold granite against my thighs made me gasp into his mouth.

"I need you," I breathed against his lips.

"You have me," he growled back. "All of me."

His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my dress higher. The reverence from our first time was gone. This was raw. Desperate. Two people who'd been through hell trying to find heaven in each other's skin.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him between my thighs. The hard length of him pressed against me through his jeans, and I moaned into his mouth.

"Bedroom," I managed to say.

"No." His teeth found my neck, biting down just hard enough to make me arch. "Right here. Right now."

His fingers hooked into my panties, tearing them away in one violent motion. The sound of ripping fabric made something primal unfurl in my belly.

"Riot—"

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded, fingers finding me already wet and ready. "Tell me you'll never run from me again."

"I'm yours," I gasped as he stroked me. "Always yours."

He worked me with skilled fingers while his mouth claimed my throat, leaving marks that would be visible tomorrow. Marks that said I belonged to someone. To him.

When I was trembling on the edge, he pulled back. I whimpered at the loss, but then I heard his zipper. Felt him positioning himself at my entrance.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. In that darkness, I saw everything. His rage. His love. His absolute devotion to keeping me safe. To keeping me his.

He pushed inside me in one hard thrust, and I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders. There was no gentleness this time. No careful consideration. Just need.

"This is what you do to me," he growled, setting a punishing pace. "Make me lose control."

I could only hold on as he took me apart, each thrust driving away the memories of cages and lies and betrayal. There was only him. Only us. Only this moment where the past couldn't touch us.

"I love you," I sobbed as the pleasure built to an impossible height. "I love you so much."

"Show me," he demanded. "Come for me, Allure. Let me feel it."

His thumb found that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I shattered. My body clenched around him as waves of pleasure crashed over me, so intense I saw stars.

He followed me over, my name on his lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

We stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard. His hands were gentle now, smoothing over my skin like he was checking for damage.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head. "No. I needed that. Needed you."

He kissed me softly this time. "You have me. Forever."

"Promise?"

“I promised.”

“My brother?—"

"Will be handled," he finished. "But not tonight. Tonight, you're safe. We're safe. That's all that matters."

He carried me to our bedroom, and we made love again. Slower this time. Like we had all the time in the world.

Maybe we did.

The monsters from my past were dead. The ones still breathing wouldn't be for long.

And I had Riot.

That was enough. More than enough.

It was everything.