I stood back up and walked a few paces away, running my hand over my face. This was the part I hated. The part where I had to decide what kind of man I was going to be.
Farah was dangerous. That much was clear. She’d proven she was willing to go to any lengths to hurt me, and she wasn’t going to stop just because I asked nicely. If I let her go, she’d come back. Again and again and again, until one of us was dead.
But killing her felt wrong. Not because she didn’t deserve it, because she’d made her choices, same as her father, but because of what it would make me.
I wasn’t Rashid. I didn’t want to be Rashid. I wanted to be the kind of man who could look his daughter in the eye someday and not see a monster staring back.
“I could have loved you.”
Her voice was small now, all the fight drained out of her.
I turned back around. “What?”
“I could have loved you, Prime. I DID love you. From the first moment my father introduced us, I knew you were special.” She was looking at me with those desperate eyes, like she could will me into feeling something back. “I would have been good to you. Better than her. I would have given you everything—my body, my loyalty, my life. All you had to do was choose me.”
I stared at her for a long moment, trying to find even a shred of what she was looking for. Some spark of attraction, somehint of possibility, some alternate universe where this could have worked.
There was nothing. Just pity.
“Farah…”
“I know you felt something. That night you threw me in your trunk…”
“I felt sorry for you.” The words came out harsher than I intended, but they were true. “You were Rashid’s daughter. Off limits. And even if you weren’t, I’m already in love with someone else.”
Her face crumpled. “She’s not better than me. She’s not?—”
“She’s everything to me. And you tried to take her away.” I shook my head. “Whatever sympathy I had for you died the moment you sent that text to her phone.”
The sound of a door opening echoed through the warehouse. I turned to see Quest walking in, duffle bag over his shoulder, looking like he’d come straight from the airport.
“Damn.” He surveyed the scene—Farah tied to the chair, me standing over her, the whole grim setup. “This is cozy.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“You said you needed me. I’m here.” He dropped the bag and walked over, giving Farah a once-over. “She looks like shit.”
“She’s been crying for three hours.”
“Sounds about right.” Quest turned to me, his voice lower now. “What’s the play here? We handling this tonight or what?”
“I need you to watch her for a day or two. Until I get things sorted with Zainab.”
Quest raised an eyebrow. “Watch her? Like a babysitter?”
“Like someone I trust not to do anything stupid.” I glanced at Farah, then back at Quest. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I got you. But…” He stepped closer, lowering his voice even more. “What are you gonna do about her? Long term?”
I looked at Farah—this broken, desperate woman who’d been a pawn in her father’s games long before she became a pawn in mine. Who’d lost everyone she loved and channeled all that grief into destruction. Who was dangerous and pitiful in equal measure.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m ruthless, Quest. But I’m not a monster. At least… I’m trying not to be.”
Quest nodded slowly. “Aight. I’ll keep her fed and watered. But you need to figure this out soon. We can’t keep her here forever.”
“I know.”
I started toward the door, ready to leave, ready to push all of this out of my mind and focus on Zainab.
