We both froze. She pulled it out, looked at the screen, and her brow furrowed.
“It’s Mehar.”
“Answer it.”
She did, putting it on speaker. “Hello? Mehar?”
The sound that came through the phone made my stomach drop. Hysterical sobbing. Gasping breaths. A woman in complete crisis.
“Zainab—” Mehar’s voice was barely recognizable. “Zainab, please—I need—he found out I left—he’s going to kill me?—”
Zainab’s face went pale. “Mehar, slow down. Where are you?”
“Union Station. I took—I took the train—I didn’t know where else to go—” More sobbing. “Please, Zainab. Please come get me. I’m so scared. He’s calling my phone over and over and I don’t know what to do?—”
“Okay. Okay, listen to me.” Zainab’s voice shifted into something steadier. Maternal. The same tone she used with Yusef when he was spiraling. “Stay where you are. Don’t answer his calls. I’m coming to get you right now. Do you hear me? I’m coming.”
“Please hurry. Please?—”
“I’m on my way.”
She hung up and looked at me. The argument we’d been having was still there, unresolved, but pushed aside by this new emergency.
“I have to go.”
“I know.” I grabbed my keys from the counter. “I’ll drive you.”
“Prime—”
“We’re not done talking about Yusef.” I opened the front door and waited for her to walk through. “But right now, your sister needs you. So let’s go.”
She hesitated for just a second. Then nodded and walked past me into the hallway.
I followed, pulling the door shut behind us.
Yusef was still out there. Still with Rashid.
And Zainab wanted me to wait. To think. To consider the consequences.
But I was done waiting.
The moment Mehar was safe, I was making my move. With or without Zainab’s blessing.
Rashid had started this war.
I was going to finish it.
22
ZAINAB
When I saw Mehar, I wanted to commit murder. I was so tired of these men thinking that they could do whatever to us. That night I killed Larry, something broke in me. That old scared little girl was gone. I wanted revenge on everyone who had done me wrong.
There she was huddled on a bench inside Union Station, her hijab pulled low over her face, her body curled in on itself like she was trying to disappear. A few people walked past, glancing at her with that look—the one that said they knew something was wrong but didn’t want to get involved.
“Mehar.” I rushed toward her, Prime right behind me. “Mehar, I’m here. I’m?—”
She looked up.
