Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
He wears a different mask.
Black. No raven mark. No red slash.
Just blank.
Empty.
My whole body goes cold.
Riot shifts instantly, placing himself between me and the new attacker. “Kelly, get behind the column. Now.”
“No,” I breathe. “I’m not leaving you.”
“This isn’t optional,” Riot growls. “Move.”
But I can’t.
Something about this new man— the stillness, the posture, the almost military precision— Something in me recognizes danger so deep it hits my bones.
The man steps fully into the dim light.
And stops.
Not at Riot. Not at me.
But at the bodies on the floor.
He tilts his head, assessing silently, like he’s counting.
Finally, he speaks.
His voice is low. Steady. Almost gentle.
“Ledger.”
Riot goes rigid.
My heart drops to my stomach.
Ledger. His real name.
Only people who knew him before the Kings use that name.
Riot’s voice comes out like gravel. “Who the hell are you?”
The man laughs softly. “Been a long time.”
Fear spikes through me so violently my knees weaken.
“Riot,” I whisper.
He doesn’t look back. Not once.
The masked man takes another step forward. His movements are unnervingly controlled, the kind that rejects randomness. Calculated. Familiar.
He lifts a hand the way someone calls a dog.
“You shouldn’t have run,” he says calmly. “We only wanted leverage. You made it messy.”
Riot raises his gun. “Say your name before I end you.”
He chuckles again. “You don’t remember me?”
Riot’s entire frame tightens.
Then—the man removes his mask.
I gasp.
Riot goes pale.
“You,” he breathes.
The intruder smiles faintly. “Took you long enough.”
I look between them, heart pounding.
“You know him?” I whisper.
Riot’s jaw clenches so hard a vein bulges at his neck.
“I thought you were dead,” he says quietly.
“Oh, I was,” the man answers. “The Russians just didn’t bury me deep enough.”
A chill rips through me.
This man—whoever he is—is tied to Riot. To Bratok.To the reason I was run off the road.
The man steps closer.
“Kelly, right?”
Riot moves like he’s going to lunge—but the man lifts one finger.
Riot freezes.
Not out of fear. Out of calculation.
The intruder looks directly at me now. His eyes are cold.
Curious.
Detached.
“You weren’t supposed to live,” he says simply. I flinch. Riot steps halfway in front of me.
“But you did,” the man continues. “Which complicates things.”
Something in my chest cracks open.
“You—” I choke. “You ran me off the road.”
“No,” he says. “My men did. I just watched.”
My stomach flips violently.
“You hurt her,” he snarls, voice cracking open like a wound. “You erased her goddamn memory.”
“That was an interesting upside,” the man replies calmly. “I admit, Ledger, I didn’t expect that. But sometimes fate does the work for us.”
Riot lunges. I scream.
The man turns and fires.
It’s not a bullet— It’s a flashbang.
White light detonates through the room.
Sound disappears.
My ears ring sharp enough to feel like knives.
Riot hits the wall—hard.
I try to run to him, but the world spins violently. My vision fractures into shards of light, my hearing gone except for a faint high-pitched whine.
The masked man — the monster — is suddenly in front of me.
Too close.
I stumble backward. My hand squeezes the gun Riot gave me, but my vision is too blurry. My legs too unsteady.
He grabs my wrist.
Hard.
Riot roars my name distant, muffled.
The man smirks.
“Ledger always did pick fragile things,” he murmurs.
A memory slams into me so hard I choke:
Riot standing in my apartment doorway. My voice tight.
‘Don’t treat me like I’m breakable.’
His palm cupping my cheek.
‘I don’t. I treat you like you matter.’
The memory steals my breath.
The man yanks me toward the door.
Riot staggers to his feet, fighting the fading concussion of the blast.
He sees the attacker dragging me.
He snaps.
His voice is a sound I’ve never heard from another human being.
“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER!”
He charges, unhinged, wild, lethal, even while half-blinded. The masked man shoves me aside, spinning to meet Riot, fist connecting with Riot’s jaw with a brutal crack.
Riot stumbles then launches himself forward again.
They crash into the reinforced door, both grunting. The masked man is strong, trained, vicious.
But Riot?
Riot is inhuman right now. He’s an animal.
He grabs the man’s throat, slams him into the wall, elbow driving into ribs again and again and again—But the intruder moves fast.
He twists Riot’s arm, flips him, slams him to the ground.
I scream.
Riot rolls, gasping, blood on his lip.
Before I can reach him, the attacker kicks me back, sending me sprawling into crates.
Riot’s voice breaks. “NO!”
Then the attacker lifts his gun. Riot is too far from me. I’m too shaky to move fast enough. The muzzle lifts toward me, and Riot does something that makes my heart shatter.
He throws his weapon aside.
And steps between me and the barrel.
Like a shield. Like a sacrifice.
Like he was born to protect me or die trying.
“No!” I scream. “Riot!”
He spreads his arms, chest exposed, eyes burning.
“If you want her,” he snarls, “you go through me.”
The attacker tilts his head.
Smirks.
Raises the gun.
My heart stops.
Not again. Not again.
A memory slams into me with violent clarity:
Riot’s voice, low and hoarse in my ear:
‘I don’t fall easy. But once I do, I don’t stop.’