“She’s my future. Her and our baby. That’s never going to change.”
Something died in Farah’s eyes. That last flicker of hope, extinguished.
“Then I’ll never stop.” Her voice was flat. Final. “As long as I’m breathing, I’ll never stop coming for you. For her. For everything you love. You want peace? Then you’re going to have to kill me. Because that’s the only way this ends.”
I stared at her for a long moment. Then I stood up.
“Quest won’t hurt you. You have my word on that.” I walked toward the door without looking back. “I’ll figure out what to do with you when I get back.”
“PRIME!”
I kept walking.
“PRIME, DON’T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME! PRIME!”
The door closed behind me, cutting off her screams.
I stood in the hallway for a moment, my hands shaking, my mind spinning. Farah’s words echoing in my head. Thad’s betrayal burning in my chest. The weight of everything pressing down on me until I could barely breathe.
But I couldn’t break. Not yet.
Zainab needed me.
The county jail smelled like despair.
I’d been in a lot of dark places in my life, but there was something about this building that hit different. Maybe it was the fluorescent lights that buzzed too loud. Maybe it was the way everyone moved—guards, visitors, inmates—like they’d already given up on life. Maybe it was knowing that my woman, my pregnant fiancée, was somewhere behind these walls.
I went through the security check like a zombie. Metal detector. Pat down. ID verification. Sign here, sign there, wait in this room until your number is called.
Finally, they led me to the visitation area.
Zainab was already there, sitting behind the glass partition, a phone receiver in her hand. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit that swallowed her frame, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, dark circles under her eyes.
She looked broken. Weary. Sad.
My heart cracked right down the middle.
I sat down across from her and picked up my phone. For a moment, neither of us said anything. Just looked at each other through the glass like we were trying to memorize each other’s faces.
“Hey, Goddess.”
“Hey.” Her voice was small. Tired. Nothing like the vibrant woman I’d fallen in love with.
“How are you holding up?”
She laughed—a hollow, humorless sound. “I’m in jail, Prime. I’m eight months pregnant and sleeping on a concrete slab andeating food that tastes like cardboard. How do you think I’m holding up?”
“I’m working on it. Camille’s doing everything she can?—”
“They denied bail again.” She cut me off, her eyes filling with tears. “The judge said I was a flight risk. Said I’d already proven I couldn’t be trusted to follow the rules.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m going to have this baby in here, Prime. Our daughter is going to be born in a prison hospital.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t promise that.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have just stayed in the house. I should have called the police. I should have?—”
“Stop.” My voice came out rougher than I intended. “Stop apologizing. You thought Yusef was in danger. You did what any mother would do.”
“But I wasn’t thinking. I just panicked, and now?—”
