When Rashid barked at Zainab—when he tried to pull rank and tell me this was “family business”—something inside me snapped. She was my business. Her and Yusef. They were mine to protect, and I wasn’t about to let anybody—not even the man who’d saved my life—come at them sideways.
That was new for me.
I wasn’t sure what to do with it yet.
Zainab sniffled beside me, wiping her face with the back of her hand, and I reached over without thinking. Placed my hand on her thigh. Squeezed.
She flinched at first—probably expected me to snatch away from her—but then she relaxed. Just a little. Her hand came down to cover mine, trembling.
“Prime—” Her voice was raw. Wrecked. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you. So many times I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how, and then it had been so long, and I was scared?—”
“Stop.”
She went quiet.
I kept my eyes on the road. Kept my hand on her thigh. Kept my voice level even though there was a storm raging inside me.
“I’m not gonna sit here and tell you it’s okay,” I said. “Because it’s not. You lied to me. For months. About who you are. About your whole fucking existence. And I had to find out because that nigga screamed it in a prison hallway. You know what kinda nigga I am. You know I would handle anything for you.”
She made a small sound. Like I’d hit her.
“But I also heard everything you just told me. I heard what you went through. What you survived. What you did to protect that boy in the backseat.” I paused, jaw tight. “So I’m mad. I’m real fuckin’ mad, Zainab. But I understand.”
More silence.
Then, quietly: “What happens now?”
Good question.
I didn’t have a good answer.
By the timewe pulled up to her apartment building, the sun was starting to set. Orange and purple bleeding across the sky, making everything look almost peaceful. Almost.
I killed the engine and sat there for a second, running through everything in my head. Rashid was out of the country—Brazil, he’d said—but he’d be back. And when he came back, he was probably going to want to take Yusef.
Then there was Meech. That nigga was getting out in three weeks, and he knew the truth now. Knew that the woman he’d thought was his baby mama was actually her twin sister. Probably figured out that the real Zahara was dead. He was gonna have questions too. Demands. Probably gonna try to use Yusef as leverage.
And underneath all of that, there was still the situation with Nigel.
Brandi’s son.
The boy Yusef had killed.
That shit wasn’t resolved. Not even close. The police were still investigating. Brandi’s baby daddy Zoo was still out there looking for blood. And as far as I knew, nobody had connected Yusef to what happened yet—but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
We couldn’t stay here.
“Come on,” I said, opening my door. “Let’s go.”
Zainab looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Go where?”
“Inside. Y’all need to pack your bags.”
Her brow furrowed. “Pack? Prime, what?—”
“Did I stutter?” I got out of the car before she could respond, opening Yusef’s door and gesturing for him to come out. The boy moved slow, like his whole body was weighed down with grief, but he followed me without question.
Zainab caught up to us at the entrance to the building, her hand catching my arm. “Prime, wait. Talk to me. What are we doing?”
