I turned to face her. Looked down into those brown eyes that I’d fallen for all those months ago. The same eyes that had been lying to me this whole time.
“I’m angry,” I said, keeping my voice low so the whole block didn’t hear our business. “I’m angry as fuck, Zainab. You kept this from me. Made me fall for a woman who doesn’t even exist. Had me out here ready to burn the world down for you, and I didn’t even know your real name.”
Her bottom lip trembled, but she didn’t look away. I respected that.
“But even though I’m angry,” I continued, “I still gotta protect you. That’s not something I can turn off. It’s not something I want to turn off. So whatever we are right now—whatever this is—we’re gonna figure it out. But not here. Not when Zoo is out there looking for who killed his son and the cops are sniffing around and Meech is about to be back on the streets.”
“So we’re staying with you?”
“I never wanted you to leave my penthouse in the first place. You took that shit with Farah too far.”
She stared at me for a long moment. I could see the questions in her eyes. The doubt. The fear. But underneath all of that, there was something else.
Trust.
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Aight. Let’s go.”
The apartment wasthe same as I remembered it. Small. Cramped. But clean. Zainab kept a tight ship, I’d give her that.
I stood by the door while she and Yusef moved through the space, grabbing clothes and toiletries and whatever else they needed. Didn’t take long—they traveled light. Probably a habit from all those years of running.
Five minutes,” I said, checking my phone. “Then we’re out.”
Zainab nodded, disappearing into her bedroom. Yusef was in his room, and I could hear him moving around, the soft thud of drawers opening and closing.
“We’re ready.” Zainab appeared in the hallway, a duffel bag over her shoulder, Yusef trailing behind her with his own backpack.
“Let’s move.”
We headed for the building’s door—and that’s when it opened.
Not from my hand.
From the outside.
I moved on instinct, stepping in front of Zainab, my hand going to the piece on my hip. But it wasn’t a threat.
It was Brandi.
She stood in the doorway, key in her hand—probably had a spare for emergencies—looking like she hadn’t slept in a week. Which, given what had happened to her son, she probably hadn’t. Her eyes were red and swollen, her braids were messy with new growth and frizz, and her clothes looked like she’d been wearing them for days.
Grief had a way of destroying people from the inside out. I’d seen it before. Was seeing it now.
“Zahara?” Brandi’s voice was hoarse. Confused. Her eyes traveled from me to Zainab to Yusef to the bags in our hands. “Y’all going somewhere?”
Zainab stepped around me, her face immediately shifting into something softer. Something careful. “Hey, girl. Yeah, we’re just… taking a little trip. Getting out of the city for a few days.”
Brandi nodded slowly, but I could tell she wasn’t really processing. Her eyes were distant. Haunted.
“Yusef.” She looked at the boy, and something like warmth flickered across her face. “How you doing, baby?”
Yusef’s whole body went tense. I watched him swallow hard, watched him fight to keep his composure, and my chest ached for him. This kid was looking at the mother of the boy he’d killed. The woman who had no idea that her son’s murderer was standing right in front of her.
“I’m okay, Miss Brandi.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m… I’m real sorry about Nigel.”
Brandi’s face crumpled. For a second I thought she was gonna break down completely, but she pulled herself together. Reached out and squeezed Yusef’s shoulder.
