I got something else entirely.
“Oh my GOD.” Her voice was hoarse but excited. “Prime. This is… this is incredible. You actually kidnapped me.” She squirmed in the chair, testing the restraints, and fucking GIGGLED. “I always knew you was freaky but this? This is next level. I love it.”
I ain’t say nothing.
“Is this like a roleplay thing? ’Cause I am SO into it. Should I pretend to be scared?” She put on this dramatic-ass expression of terror, eyes wide, lip trembling. “Oh no, please don’t hurt me. I’m just an innocent girl. Please don’t take advantage of me. Please don’t…rape me.”
She actually moaned on those last words.
This broad was certified.
“I’ve thought about this, you know,” she kept going, apparently unbothered by my silence. “You and me. Somewhere private. Somewhere you could do whatever you wanted to me and ain’t nobody knowing. I used to touch myself thinking about it. About you tying me up. Being rough with me. Making me?—”
Somebody cleared they throat.
Farah’s head snapped toward the sound. Watched her expression shift from horny to confused as she registered the other presence in the room.
A man. Tall. Built. Square jaw. Dead eyes that looked like they’d seen things—done things—that would make regular people lose they lunch.
“Who the hell is this?” Farah’s voice lost some of that breathy excitement. “I ain’t agree to no threesome. I just want you, Prime. Is this some kind of test? You testing my loyalty? ’Cause I swear, I only want?—”
“That’s Thad.” First time I spoke since she woke up. “My cousin.”
Thad ain’t say nothing. Just stood there in the shadows, arms folded, face blank. The kind of nigga who could watch somebody die and not blink once.
“He gon’ keep an eye on you while I’m out,” I continued. “Feed you. Give you water. Take you to the bathroom when you need to go. Keep you gagged the rest of the time so he ain’t gotta listen to your bullshit.”
The horniness was finally draining from Farah’s face. Reality was starting to seep in.
“I… I don’t understand.” Voice smaller now. Less certain. “Prime, what is this? What are you doing?”
“Maybe he’ll bring you a laptop. Let you watch Real Housewives of Whatever the Fuck to pass the time.” I stood up from my chair. “But you ain’t leaving this warehouse ’til your father gives me back what he took.”
“My father?” Now she looked genuinely confused. “What my father got to do with?—”
“Yusef.” I buttoned my jacket. “The boy Rashid snatched. The one he been torturing this past week. You want outta that chair? You better hope your daddy wants to make the trade.”
“I don’t—I don’t know what you talking about.” Panic creeping into her voice now. “Prime, please. Whatever this about, we can work it out. I can talk to my father. I can?—”
“Thad.” I walked toward the door. “Gag her.”
“NO! Prime, WAIT!” She was thrashing against the restraints, chair scraping against concrete. “You can’t do this! I ain’t some random bitch—my father will KILL you for this! He’ll?—”
The sound of duct tape being ripped from the roll cut her off.
“PRIME! PRIME, PLEASE! I LOVE YOU! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO SOMEBODY WHO LOVES YOU! PRIME!”
I walked out into the night and pulled out my phone.
I’d snapped a photo of her earlier, while she was still knocked out. Slumped in the chair. Tied up. Helpless. The daughter of the most dangerous man I knew, completely at my mercy.
Pulled up Rashid’s contact and attached the picture.
For years, I addressed this man with respect. Deference. The acknowledgment that he was my elder, my mentor, the nigga who shaped me into who I was.
Them days was over.
I typed three words and hit send.
