Nobody moved. The tension was so thick you could’ve spread it on toast.
Finally, Rashid smoothed down his tie and fixed his face into that composed mask he wore so well. The man could be standing in the middle of a burning building and still look like he was about to chair a board meeting. “Fine,” he said, turning toward the exit. “I have important business in Brazil that requires my attention. But when I return…” He paused, looking back at Prime with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “We’re all going to sit down and discuss this. Properly.”
Prime said nothing. Just stared at him with those unreadable eyes.
Rashid’s gaze slid to Yusef, still crying against the wall, and something flickered across his face. Possession. Entitlement. Like my nephew was a thing to be claimed rather than a child to be protected. “That boy is my blood, Prime,” he said, andthere was a warning in his voice now. A threat wrapped in silk. “Remember that. Know your place.”
“I know exactly where I stand.”
Six words. That’s all it took to shift the entire dynamic.
I watched Rashid try to recalculate, try to figure out when exactly he’d lost control of the situation. When Prime had stopped being the obedient soldier and started thinking for himself. He didn’t find an answer—at least not one that satisfied him—because after a long moment, he just turned and walked away. His footsteps echoed down the corridor until he rounded the corner and disappeared from view.
He moved slowerthan I expected. His shoulders seemed heavier somehow. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it—I had my own problems to worry about.
The officer cleared his throat.
“Ma’am. Sir. The exit is this way.”
Prime’s hand found the small of my back—firm, guiding, present. But it wasn’t gentle. Not like all the times before, when his touch had been soft and reverent, like I was something precious he was afraid of breaking. This touch was different. Harder. A reminder that just because he was still protecting me didn’t mean he wasn’t furious.
He steered me toward the door and I let him, my legs carrying me forward on pure autopilot because my brain had officially checked out. Yusef fell into step beside us, his small hand finding mine and squeezing tight.
I squeezed back, trying to communicate everything I couldn’t say out loud.I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. It’s going to be okay.
All lies, probably. But they were the only comfort I had to offer right now.
The car ride back to DC was supposed to take three hours.
It felt like it was going to take three centuries.
Prime hadn’t said a single word since we left the prison. He’d opened my door, opened Yusef’s door, walked around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel like a man on a mission—though what that mission was, I couldn’t say. Getting us home? Getting away from me? Driving to a secluded location to dump my body? At this point, all options seemed equally plausible.
The engine purred to life—because of course Prime drove a car with an engine that purred; the man couldn’t do anything without being extra about it—and the prison shrank in the rearview mirror until it disappeared entirely.
And then there was just… silence.
Heavy, oppressive, suffocating silence.
I could feel his anger like a physical presence in the car. It was taking up all the space, pressing against my skin, making it hard to breathe. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight I could see the tension in his forearms, and his jaw was set in that hard line that meant he was either about to punch something or someone. Possibly me.
Yusef was in the backseat, and I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror every few seconds—red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, that haunted expression that no twelve-year-old should ever have to wear. He kept looking between me and Prime, trying to gauge the situation, probably wondering if his whole world was about to fall apart. Again.
I wanted to turn around and comfort him, but what was I supposed to say?Don’t worry, baby, I’m sure the man I’ve been lying to for months won’t abandon us completely?It’s fine that your father just exposed my entire identity in a prison hallway?Everything’s going to be okay even though literally nothing has been okay since we fled California?
“Prime—” Yusef’s voice was small and hesitant, barely above a whisper.
“Don’t.”
One word. Sharp and final, like a door slamming shut.
Yusef flinched, and my heart cracked right down the middle. I opened my mouth to say something—defend him, comfort him, tell Prime not to take his anger out on a child—but Prime was already speaking again.
“It ain’t your place to explain this.” His voice was stern—more stern than I’d ever heard him be with Yusef—but there was something underneath the harshness. Something protective. “You’re a child. Not the adult. This ain’t on you.”
And just like that, I understood.
He wasn’t angry at Yusef. He was only angry atme. But even in the middle of his fury, even while he was probably mentally composing a list of all the ways I’d betrayed him, he was making sure my nephew knew he didn’t have to carry this burden.
