I moved Farah to the side with one hand and ducked under his fist with ease. Then I grabbed him by the collar and slammed my fist into his jaw. Once. Twice. He stumbled back, and I followed, hitting him again, this time in the ribs. He went down hard, and I was on him, fists connecting with bone and flesh in a rhythm I knew too well.
People screamed. The music didn’t stop, but bodies scattered, creating a circle around us.
I felt hands grabbing me—strong hands, familiar hands—pulling me back.
“Prime! Prime, chill!” Cannon’s voice.
“Get off him, man!” Quest.
Justice had his arms locked around my chest, dragging me backward while Cannon stepped between me and the dude on the ground, who was groaning, blood pouring from his nose.
I stopped resisting, breathing hard, adrenaline still pumping. The shorter guy was already helping his boy up, eyes wide with fear, mumbling apologies I couldn’t hear over the bass.
Security was moving in now, Uncle Levi’s guys, and they knew exactly who to grab. The two men were escorted out quickly, one of them limping, the other still apologizing.
I shook off Justice’s grip and turned around.
Farah was standing there, mascara running, eyes wide and wet, staring at me like I was some kind of hero.
“Prime,” she whispered.
“Come on,” I said, my voice rough. “I’m taking you home.”
I didn’t give Farah time to protest. I bent down, grabbed her by the waist, and tossed her thick ass over my shoulder in one smooth motion. Her weight was nothing to me, and she squealed, half in surprise, half in delight.
“Put me down!” She giggled, smacking my back with loose fists.
“Shut up,” I growled, nodding at my brothers who were watching with amused expressions. Quest gave me a knowing look that I ignored as I carried Farah through the club.
People stared. I didn’t give a fuck. I just needed to get her out of there before she got herself into more trouble.
Outside, the night air hit us both. I marched straight to my Bentayga and opened the door, then practically tossed her into the front seat, watching her flop onto the leather like a rag doll. I slammed the door shut, walked around, and slid behind the wheel.
“Where your dusty-ass friends at?” I asked, starting the engine.
Farah blinked at me, confused. “What friends?”
“The ones you came with. The ones who let you get this fucked up and left you with those wolves.”
She shrugged, head lolling to the side. “Don’t know. They probably still inside.”
I shook my head, disgusted. “That’s what’s wrong with y’all nowadays. Women supposed to look out for each other. You don’t leave your homegirls drunk and alone in a club full of niggas looking to take advantage.”
“I wasn’t alone,” she slurred, smiling. “I was with those guys.”
“Those guys?” I turned to face her fully. “Farah, those niggas was about to run a train on you. You so drunk you can barely stand, and they was taking you somewhere to do God knows what. You lucky I was there.”
Instead of looking alarmed, she reached over and stroked my arm. “Thank youuuu,” she purred, dragging out the word. “My hero. You’re so pretty, Prime. Has anyone ever told you that? Those eyes… like the ocean. And these…” She reached up and touched one of my locs, letting it slide between her fingers. “So sexy.”
I pulled away, putting the car in drive. “Stop.”
“Why?” She pouted, her hand now on my thigh. “Don’t act like you don’t want me.”
Her touch sent heat through my body, but I forced myself to focus on the road. Farah was fine as hell, had been since she was sixteen, which was exactly when I’d made myself scarce around her. Thick in all the right places, lips that begged to be kissed, skin smooth like caramel. But she was Rashid’s daughter. And that made her off-limits for life.
“I’m not playing with you,” I said, gripping the wheel tighter as I navigated through the nighttime traffic. “Your father would kill me. And then he’d kill you.”
“My father doesn’t have to know everything.” Her hand crept higher on my thigh, and I swear I felt my blood pressure spike. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Prime. So long.”
