“How? She’s Rashid’s daughter. She’s connected to?—”
“I said I’ll handle it.” He glanced over at me, and there was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite read. “You need to learn to control your anger in public. We both do. Can’t be out here giving people ammunition to use against us.”
I deflated. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“But.” He reached over and took my hand. “Thank you. For Vivica.”
I looked at him. “You’re not mad?”
“That you slapped my mother in front of half of DC’s elite?” A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that my whole life. Seeing you do it for me?” He squeezed my hand. “That’s the most gangsta shit anyone’s ever done on my behalf.”
I laughed through the tears that were starting to fall. “I just couldn’t listen to her talk to you like that. After everything she put you through…”
“I know.” He brought my hand to his lips, kissed my knuckles. “And I love you for it. But we gotta be smarter. Play the long game. Farah and Vivica—they’re not worth catching a case over.”
“You’re right.” I wiped my face with my free hand. “I know you’re right.”
“We’re gonna figure this out. The videos, the reputation stuff—we’ll handle it. Together. Okay?”
I nodded, leaning back against the headrest. The adrenaline was fading, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake.
“I love you,” I said quietly.
“I love you too, Goddess. Violent ass and all.”
I laughed again, and this time it felt real.
We pulled into the parking garage of Prime’s building, and I took a deep breath. All I wanted was to shower, crawl into bed, and forget this night ever happened. Tomorrow we’d dealwith the fallout. Tonight, I just needed to hold Yusef and remind myself what actually mattered.
The elevator ride up was quiet. Comfortable. Prime’s hand in mine, solid and reassuring.
The doors opened onto the penthouse floor.
And immediately, I knew something was wrong.
The front door was open.
Not just unlocked. Open. A sliver of light spilling into the hallway from inside.
Prime went rigid beside me. He was moving before I could process what was happening, pulling me behind him, his whole body shifting into something dangerous and alert.
“Stay here,” he said.
But I couldn’t. I was right behind him as he pushed through the door, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The living room was intact. Nothing broken. Nothing out of place.
Except the PlayStation was on. The controller abandoned on the floor in the middle of a game.
“Yusef?” I called out, my voice cracking. “YUSEF!”
I ran through the penthouse. His bedroom. The bathroom. The kitchen. The guest rooms. The balcony.
Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty.
“He’s gone.” The words came out as a whisper. Then louder. “HE’S GONE. Prime, he’s GONE?—”
Prime was on his phone, pulling up cameras, checking security footage, his face carved from stone.
