Farah was both.
I pulled out my phone, looked at the time. 1:47 AM.
Saturday was two days away.
And I still wasn’t sure what I was doing or why Zahara Ali’s face was the last thing I saw before I finally fell asleep on my expensive-ass couch in my empty-ass apartment.
10
ZAHARA
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me.
My eyes were swollen and red-rimmed from crying all night. I’d tried to be quiet about it, burying my face in my pillow so Yusef wouldn’t hear through the thin walls. But the tears had come anyway, hot and relentless, for everything I’d lost and every choice I’d made that led me here.
For the constant running. The looking over my shoulder. The fear that one day I’d be found and forced to be held accountable for my fucked up choices.
I cried for being here, in this tiny apartment in DC, living a lie, and about to take Yusef to see a man who’d done nothing but hurt us.
I splashed cold water on my face, trying to reduce the swelling. Trying to pull myself together. I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Yusef needed me. He was all that mattered.
I could cry later. Right now, I had to be strong.
At 6 AM, I knocked on Yusef’s door. “Yu, baby. Time to get up.”
He groaned, pulling his pillow over his head. “It’s Saturday.”
“I know. But we have to go somewhere today. Remember?”
He peeked out from under the pillow, confusion clearing into understanding. Then dread. “Do we have to?”
“Yes.” I sat on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry. But we have to.”
“I don’t want to meet him.” His voice was small. “Why do I have to meet someone I don’t even know?”
“Because…” I trailed off. Because a dangerous man is making me. Because I’m too scared to say no. Because I don’t know how to protect you from any of this. “Because sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.”
“That’s not a real answer.”
He was right. It wasn’t. But it was all I had.
“Get dressed. Wear something nice. We’re leaving at seven.”
I didn’t want to do this. Everything in me screamed to pack our bags and run. But I knew better. Prime was dangerous. I’d seen it in his eyes, in the way he moved, in how easily he’d tracked my every movement. Running would only make things worse. Besides, I didn’t have much money and I was tired of being on the go.
So I’d do this. I’d take Yusef to that prison. I’d sit in the car while he went inside to meet a man who didn’t deserve to know him. And then I’d figure out how to make sure it never happened again.
At 6:58 AM, there was a knock on my door.
Not a bang. Not a demand. A knock. Polite. Controlled. Like a gentleman.
I hated that it surprised me.
I opened the door and immediately regretted it. Prime stood there looking entirely too good for seven in the morning. Dark jeans that fit him perfectly. A black henley that stretched across his chest in ways that should be illegal. His locs pulled back, showing off that sharp jawline and those eyes.
And the smell. God, that cologne. His scent sent shivers down my spine.
Rather than focus on how good he looked, I forced myself to focus on the anger. On what he’d said the other night about me choosing better. About women like me always picking the wrong men.
