Page 54

RIOT

Rollo still wasn’t answering his fucking phone. Three missed calls. Two texts. A voice memo. Nothing.

I paced the living room of my brownstone like a caged panther, tension pulling at my muscles. My mind kept flipping through scenarios—none of them good. Rollo didn’t ghost. Not like this. Especially not after a hit. Not after we cleaned up Boaz.

And I needed to talk to him.

Because what Allure just dropped on me? It changed everything.

It wasn’t Boaz who’d sent shooters to the winery. It was her brother, Carmelo. When I killed Lionel, I didn’t even factor in his bitch-made ass. He’s always been a non-factor. After the death of his daddy their empire pretty much died. He couldn’t run shit. Hell, his daddy barely could.

But now?

He was on my fucking list.

Creed sat on the edge of my couch, silent but alert, hands steepled in front of him like he was trying to hold the whole damn world together with knuckles and willpower.

“You sure about this intel?” he asked finally, lifting his head. “Carmelo?”

“She’s sure,” I muttered. “Allure said the guy she recognized used to run with her brother. And after what Lionel did? After finding out her whole family knew and let it happen?” I shook my head, jaw tight. “Yeah. She’s sure.”

Creed sighed through his nose. “So we hit the wrong target.”

“No,” I snapped. “Boaz needed to die either way. That sick fucka was overdue. But Carmelo hit my business. My people. That makes him a different kind of problem.”

Creed nodded. “So where is he?”

“Allure’s been working her cousin Diori for info. She cracked this morning. Said he’s got a crib in Flatbush. Real low-key. Like he don’t wanna be found.”

“Too bad,” Creed muttered. “We’re good at finding ghosts.”

Before I could respond, the front door creaked and Irina stepped in from the hallway. Her curls were wild, eyes tired, expression tight with worry.

“I’ve tried him too,” she said softly, walking toward us. “Nothing. Last time we talked, Rollo said he was headed to Brooklyn. Something about meeting a friend. I thought it was nothing at first. But now... I’m starting to feel sick.”

That made three of us.

I leaned against the mantle, watching the flames dance in the fireplace even though the spring heat didn’t warrant it. My chest felt too tight. Like the walls were closing in one brick at a time.

“He would’ve checked in,” Creed said.

“Exactly,” I growled. “Rollo don’t flake.”

My phone buzzed.

I snatched it up—but it wasn’t Rollo.

It was Allure.

Diori just dropped the address. 1472 Newkirk. You ready?

I didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keys like hesitation could buy me a little more time.

But the clock was already ticking. Rollo was missing.

Carmelo was out there. And the woman I loved was asking if I was ready to burn the whole damn borough down if that’s what it took.

Creed’s voice cut into my thoughts. “That her?”

I nodded. “Yeah. She got the spot.”

Creed leaned back, rubbing his jaw like he was trying to grind the thought out of his head before it rooted too deep.

“You think…” he paused, eyes narrowing. “You think Rollo’s disappearance got anything to do with Carmelo? I mean what if he’s workin’ with him?”

I turned slow, letting that settle.

“Nah.”

Creed raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Rollo caught bodies at the winery. He shot two of Carmelo’s boys. I saw it. No hesitation, no flinching. He wasn’t shooting to wound, he was clearing house. That ain’t someone playing both sides.”

Creed grunted. “Could’ve been cover.”

“Nah.” My voice dropped, weight behind every syllable. “Rollo might be a lot of shit, loud, reckless, always chasing pussy — no offense Irina — but he’s loyal. Been riding with us forever. That man would rather die than flip on fam.”

Just as Creed and I were gearing up to move, the front door swung open again.

Allure.

She moved with purpose, still wearing that tight black tee and jeans from earlier, eyes sharp but swollen, like she’d cried and dried it all before stepping into the room. Her energy was different now. Not soft, not broken.

Focused.

She was choosing me over family.

“He’s there now,” she said, breath just a little shallow. “Diori triple confirmed it.”

Creed and I locked eyes, then turned back to her.

“You’re sure you want in on this?” I asked.

She didn’t blink. “I’m not staying behind. He knew I was missing and did nothing to come get me. He knew where I was the whole time.”

Irina stood from the couch, wringing her hands. “Be careful. Please. All of you.”

“Hit us if you hear from Rollo,” I replied.

We left her behind. Locked up the brownstone, loaded the car.

Flatbush was far enough and the ride felt endless. Each red light a slap. Each turn an echo.

I gripped the wheel like it could hold me together. Like it could keep my mind from spiraling into what-ifs.

What if Carmelo had Rollo?

The building on Newkirk was run-down. Quiet. Brick chipping, blinds drawn, graffiti laced across the first floor window.

Creed hopped out first, checking angles. I followed, with Allure right behind me.

I wanted to tell her to stay in the car.

I didn’t.

Because some things, you gotta do yourself. Besides I killed Boaz before she could. If she wanted to be there for this. That’s fine.

We crept up the stairs, shoes light on concrete, every shadow a maybe.

Creed gave the nod.

I kicked the door in.

Carmelo was inside alone.

Sitting in a folding chair, elbows on his knees, a half-burned blunt between his fingers.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t run. Just looked up at us with those dead eyes.

“Of course this bitch ratted me out,” he barked towards Allure.

“Carmelo.” My voice was low, steady. “We need to talk.”

He smirked like we were playing cards, not cornering him for a war crime. “You brought my sister? Ain’t that sweet. What’s the matter, traitor? You need your new man to finish what Pops started?”

I stiffened. Felt Allure step past me.

“You betrayed me,” she said, voice flat. “You knew. You knew where I was the whole time. And you never came.”

Carmelo’s bravado cracked. Just a flicker. Just enough.

“I didn’t?—”

“Mama told me,” she snapped. “Told me you all knew. That he sold me like cattle. And you didn’t lift a finger.”

He stood now. Hands up, bluffing some shaky peace. “Look, I didn’t know it was like that …”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled. “You sent hittas to my winery. Shot at my people. Ruined my business. You think I care what you thought?”

Carmelo’s eyes darted to me, panic rising fast now. “That wasn’t me, man. That was your brother. Havoc. He led me to you. You killed my father so I was tryna get even.”

Creed stiffened. “What?”

“Ask him,” Carmelo said quickly. “He came to me. Said he wanted to make a name for himself. Said he was tired of being your errand boy. Said he’d prove he had the balls to take y’all down. I told him he was crazy. But he planned it all. He’s the one who pulled the trigger.”

Riot’s jaw flexed. None of this surprised him. It still felt like Carmelo was lying about his involvement. Havoc may have come to him but Havoc ain’t have no hittas. Those niggas belonged to Carmelo.

I’d never trusted Havoc. Not fully. I wanted to but he was always the outside child. Something always felt off about him.

Still, hearing it laid bare like that?

It hit different.

Carmelo dropped to his knees, hands up. “I swear, man. It was all your brother. He threaded me. Said he’d kill me like you killed my Pops if I ain’t help.”

“Nigga, you lyin’. That sounds like some bullshit. You and your daddy some weak ass niggas.” I held out my gun.

Allure reached for it without a word.

And I let her take it.

She stepped forward, boots slow, heavy like vengeance wrapped in skin.

Carmelo cried now. Real tears. Blubbering about loyalty, about blood, about how she was all he had left.

She raised the gun.

“You’re not all I had,” she said coldly. “You were just what was left after the ones I needed stopped giving a fuck.”

He opened his mouth.

She pulled the trigger.

Once. Clean. Final.

The shot rang out like judgment.

Creed didn’t flinch.

Neither did I.

She handed me the gun and walked out.

And just like that, the past stopped bleeding.