And now my baby sister was about to be handling that man’s money.
I’d have to watch her. Quietly. Without her knowing. Put some eyes on her movements, figure out who she was reporting to, map out the players involved.
And if anybody—Shadow, his lieutenants, anybody—tried to hurt my sister?
War it was.
11
ZAINAB
The white casket sat at the front of Greater Hope Baptist Church like an accusation.
I couldn’t stop staring at it. Couldn’t stop thinking about what was inside—who was inside—and the fact that my nephew had put him there. And now we were walking into this church full of grieving people, dressed in our funeral best, pretending to mourn like everybody else.
God was definitely keeping score today.
Yusef was next to me, silent and still in the suit Prime had bought him earlier this week. Navy blue. Crisp white shirt. Tie that I’d had to knot three times because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He looked older in that suit. More grown. Like the childhood had been pressed right out of him along with the wrinkles in the fabric.
Prime was on Yusef’s other side so our nephew he was flanked. Protected. Like we were his security detail instead of his family.
I guess in a way, we were both.
The church steps had been crowded with people. Some I recognized from the building—neighbors, parents from the school, folks who’d known Nigel since he was a baby. Otherswere strangers, probably family from out of town, come to pay their respects.
Everyone was dressed in black. Everyone looked broken.
And here we were. Sitting in this funeral like we belonged. Like we had any right to be here. Like my nephew wasn’t the reason all these people were crying.
Lord, forgive us.
“They’re going to ask people to come view the body,” I said quietly, leaning close to Yusef’s ear. “We don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to.”
“I have to.” His voice was barely audible. “If I don’t, people will notice. They’ll think it’s weird.”
He was right. Nigel’s best friend refusing to say goodbye? That would raise questions we couldn’t afford to answer.
“Okay.” I squeezed his hand again. “Prime will go with you.”
Prime nodded, already understanding without me having to explain. “I got him.”
The service started with a hymn. The choir’s voices filled the church, beautiful and mournful, and I watched people around us break down. Brandi was in the front row, sobbing into a tissue, surrounded by women I assumed were her sisters or cousins. Zoo sat next to her, stone-faced, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth.
He was scanning the crowd.
Looking for something. Or someone.
I dropped my eyes to my lap, heart pounding. Did he know? Had he figured it out somehow? Was he looking for Yusef right now, waiting to?—
Stop. Stop it. He doesn’t know anything. Nobody knows anything. Just breathe.
The pastor spoke. Family members gave testimonials. People talked about what a good kid Nigel was, how much potential he had, how he was taken too soon.
I wanted to scream.
Good kid? This “good kid” had been beating my nephew bloody for months. Stealing from him. Threatening to have me killed. This “good kid” had made Yusef’s life a living hell until he felt like he had no other choice but to?—
When it was time to view the body, people filed up row by row.
