I set the phone down without responding.
Let him wait. Let him wonder. Let him think I was too proud to negotiate.
Because I was.
I would find another way. I would outmaneuver him, outthink him, destroy everything he loved before he could destroy what I loved.
I was Rashid Muhammad. I was Shadow. I had built an empire from nothing and controlled it for three decades.
I would not be defeated by my own creation.
Not while I still had breath in my body.
Even if that breath was running out.
34
ZAINAB
The urn was heavier than I expected.
Or maybe that was just the weight of everything it represented. Twelve years of running. Twelve years of lies. Twelve years of carrying my sister’s death while I raised her son and pretended to be somebody I wasn’t.
Now I was holding her ashes for real. And her son was God knows where, being tortured by a man who saw him as property.
I failed them both.
“I’m so sorry, Za.”
My voice cracked in the empty beach house. The sunset was bleeding through the windows—all oranges and pinks—the kind of sky Zahara would’ve made me photograph.
But she wasn’t here. Would never be here again.
The tears came hot and ugly. I’d been holding them back for days, trying to be strong, trying to focus on getting Yusef back. But alone with nothing but my sister’s remains and the fading light, I let myself break.
“They have him.” I pressed my forehead to the cool brass. “That man has your son and I can’t get to him. I promised you I’d protect him and I FAILED.”
The grief twisted into something else. Something hotter.
Rage.
At Rashid for taking him. At Meech for existing. At myself for not seeing this coming. At the whole fucking world for making me bury my twin and then trying to take her child too.
I set the urn down before I threw it.
Then I got on my knees.
I hadn’t prayed since Mama died. But right now I ain’t know what else to do.
“Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim.”
The words came back like muscle memory. Forehead to the floor. Hands flat. Complete surrender.
“Allah, I know I ain’t been the best Muslim. But I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for Yusef. He’s just a baby. Please don’t let that man break him. Please keep his spirit safe. Please bring him back to me.”
My voice cracked.
“I’ll do anything. Just please… let him be okay.”
