I knew exactly what those things meant. I’d lived them. Survived them. Still carried the scars—physical and mental—from years of Rashid’s “training.” And that was just the beginning. Soon would come the waterboarding, the beatings, eating of raw meat, forced to fight other boys and the list goes on.
And now he was doing the same thing to a twelve-year-old boy who’d already been through more trauma than most adults could handle.
“He’s a child.” My voice came out harder than I intended. “He watched his mother get murdered. He killed his bully in self-defense. He doesn’t need to be broken down—he needs therapy. Support. Love.”
“Love.” Rashid spat the word. “Love doesn’t build soldiers. Love doesn’t create men who can survive in this world. Love is what weak people hide behind when they’re too scared to do what’s necessary. And the fact that he’s already killed lets me know I’m on the right path.”
“Yusef doesn’t need to be a soldier. He’s a kid who plays piano and likes video games. He deserves a childhood.”
“Childhood is a luxury.” Rashid’s eyes went cold. “One that produces soft, useless adults who crumble at the first sign of adversity. I’m giving that boy a gift. The same gift I gave you.” He pointed his cigar at me. “Or have you forgotten where you came from? The fat, stuttering embarrassment I found crying in a prison bathroom? Do you know who you would’ve been had I not stepped in that day? You’re welcome for who you are today.”
“I’m grateful for the skills you taught me,” I said carefully. “But I’m not grateful for the damage. And I won’t let you do the same thing to Yusef.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
We stared at each other across the table. Two predators measuring each other. Two men who’d once been mentor and student, now something else entirely.
“Let me be clear,” Rashid said slowly. “That boy is staying with me. He will be trained properly. He will learn discipline and strength and how to be a man. And when he’s ready—whenI’ve reshaped him into something worthy of my bloodline—he’ll thank me for it. Just like you should be thanking me.”
“And Zainab?”
“What about her?”
“She’s his mother in every way that matters. You can’t just erase twelve years.”
“Watch me.” Rashid’s smile was cold. “Women like her attract chaos. And chaos attracts attention. The kind of attention that gets people buried.” He ashed his cigar. “If she’s smart, she’ll move on. Find another man. Have her own children. Forget Yusef ever existed.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“Then she’ll suffer for it.” He shrugged like he was discussing the weather. “Her choice.”
The threat hung in the air between us. Direct. Unambiguous. He wasn’t just taking Yusef—he was warning me to keep Zainab out of his way, or face consequences.
I thought about everything this man had given me. The discipline. The skills. The ability to survive in a world that wanted to destroy me. For years, I’d followed his orders without question. Killed who he told me to kill. Protected what he told me to protect. Been the perfect soldier.
But that was before Zainab. Before Yusef. Before I understood that there was more to life than power and control and the endless accumulation of bodies and money.
I wasn’t that soldier anymore.
“I’m going to take him back.” I stood up from the booth, looking down at the man who’d shaped me into a weapon. “Yusef is coming home. And anyone standing in my way gets dealt with.”
Rashid didn’t flinch. Just looked up at me with something like amusement.
“Is that a threat, Prentice?”
“It’s a promise.”
“You think you can win a war against me?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I taught you everything you know.”
I buttoned my jacket and straightened my cuffs. Took one last look at the man who’d raised me from nothing and turned me into something.
“You taught me everythingyouknow,” I agreed. “But not everything I’ve learned.”
I turned and walked out into the cold December air without looking back.
Rashid thought he knew me. Thought I was still the obedient soldier who followed orders and stayed in his lane. Thought the years of training had made me predictable.
