“You’re not weak, baby. You’re kind. You’re gentle. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
I blinked, coming back to the present. Quest was staring at me, concern written all over his face.
“Prime? You good?”
I rubbed my face, trying to shake off the memory. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine.” My voice came out harder than I meant it to. “Look, you want me to come to some board meeting? Fine. Next week. After I handle something for Rashid.”
Quest’s eyebrows rose. “Rashid? You still doing work for him?”
“It’s nothing. Just a favor.”
“A favor.” Quest didn’t look convinced. “What kind of favor?”
“The kind that’s none of your business.” I headed for the door. “I’ll be at the meeting. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“What I want is for my brother to stop running from his family.”
I paused at the door, my hand on the knob. “I’m not running. I just know where I belong. And it ain’t here.”
“Because Vivica made you think you weren’t good enough?”
I turned to face him. “Vivica made me strong. Everything I am, every skill I got—it’s because she refused to let me be weak.”
“Nah.” Quest shook his head. “Everything you are is because Grandma Rita loved you enough to see past the bullshit Vivicaput you through. You think she’d be proud of you now? Using that strength to hurt people instead of build something?”
“She can’t see anymore,” I said quietly. Grandma Rita had lost her sight two years earlier. Diabetes.
“But she’s still here. Still asks about you.” Quest’s voice softened. “You know what she told me last time I visited? She said, ‘Prime’s light got dimmed, but it ain’t out. Y’all just gotta help him find his way back.’”
My throat tightened. Grandma Rita going blind had broken something in me. Those blue-green eyes she’d passed down to me, the ones that had seen so much, built so much—gone dark. And I’d been too busy killing people to spend time with her before it happened.
“Don’t.”
“Nah, we’re doing this. You walked away from this family, from this business, to do what? Kill people for money? That’s the legacy you want? That’s what you want Grandma Rita to feel proud of when you finally go see her?”
My jaw clenched. “You don’t know shit about what I had to do?—”
“Then tell me!” Quest’s voice rose. “Tell me why you’d rather be out there in the streets instead of here with your family, building something that could last for generations. Tell me why Grandma Rita’s blood running through your veins means nothing to you.”
The mention of her blood—the blood that gave me these eyes, this face that didn’t quite fit anywhere—hit harder than I wanted to admit. The same eyes she couldn’t use anymore to look at me with that mixture of love and disappointment.
“I’m done with this conversation.” I turned toward the door.
“Monday,” Quest called out. “There’s a board meeting. Investors. Your name came up. They want to meet you, hear your vision for the expansion.”
I paused, hand on the doorknob. “I don’t have a vision.”
“Then find one. Because whether you like it or not, you’re part of this. The Banks name means something, and it’s time you started acting like it.” He paused. “And maybe after, you could stop by and see Grandma. She asks about you every week.”
That last part hit like a gut punch, but I didn’t let it show.
I left without responding, his words chasing me down the hallway.
In the parking lot, I sat in my car, staring up at the Banks Reserve logo illuminated against the night sky. My grandfather’s dream. My grandmother’s sacrifice. My father’s ambition cut short. My brothers’ present.
