She pulled back, looking up at me with wet, red eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s not going anywhere until you and Zainab decide what happens to him.”
Something shifted in her face. The grief was still there, but something else was rising underneath it. Something harder. Something I recognized because I’d seen it in myself.
“I want to talk to him.”
“Mehar—”
“I want to look him in the face.” Her voice was steady now, despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I want him to know that I know. I want to see him try to explain himself.”
I studied her for a long moment. This woman who’d already killed one man who hurt her. Who’d been training at the range for months, getting better and better, preparing for something she didn’t even know was coming.
“Okay,” I said finally. “But not alone. And not until Zainab’s out. You two do this together.”
She nodded.
“Prime?” She grabbed my hand before I could stand. “Thank you. For telling me. For not just… handling it yourself.”
“Zainab asked me not to. Said you both earned the right to finish this.”
“She was right.” Mehar wiped her face with the back of her hand, and when she looked at me again, there was something new in her eyes. Something cold. Something ready.
44
ZAINAB
Via the phone we finally decided on names for the babies. We knew that we wanted to name our daughter Kheris, which means grace, charm, and favor. She was named Kheris Zahara Banks. And for our son we chose Idris, after the fiery African ruler. Idris Alexander Banks.
He was still a bit mad at me, but we were working through it. And I still found it hard to believe that we actually had twins. For real. Two sweet babies that were ours.
It had been three days since he left to handle Thad, and in those three days my luck had completely changed. I considered the twins my good luck charms.
Nurse Elise helped me into the wheelchair they’d brought for transport.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Elise asked, adjusting the blankets around the twins in my arms.
I looked down at them. My daughter, with Prime’s lips and my nose. My son, with Prime’s eyes and his daddy’s energy, even at three days old. They were both sleeping, tiny chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m ready.”
Camille had worked a miracle. Emergency bail granted based on the deplorable treatment I’d received in custody—the medical neglect, the civil rights violations, the fact that I’d been forced to give birth in a jail cell like an animal while corrections officers ignored my screams for seven hours. She’d gotten the media involved, turned my story into a national conversation about the treatment of Black women in the criminal justice system. By the time she was done, even the prosecution was backing off.
I still had to stay in California for the murder trial. But I wouldn’t be on house arrest. I could go home to the rental Prime had set up. I could be with my family. I could nurse my babies and bond with them properly.
The guard who’d been posted outside my door stepped aside as Elise wheeled me toward the elevator. He’d been decent, this one. Didn’t talk much, but he’d let Prime and Camille visit longer than he was supposed to.
“Take care of yourself, Ms. Ali,”he said quietly as I passed.
“I will.”
The ride down to the lobby felt surreal. Like I was moving through a dream, watching myself from somewhere outside my body. The last two months had been exhausting and insane.
But now I was free. Sort of. Free enough.
The lobby doors opened, and I saw them.
Quest was there first, standing by a black SUV with tinted windows. Beside him was Serenity, bouncing on her heels, practically vibrating with excitement. And next to her?—
