Nothing.
My father—Rashid Muhammad, the Shadow of Brick City Crew, the man who had trained Prentice Banks and terrorized the streets for all these years—was dead.
And I was alone.
I don’t knowhow long I sat there.
Could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours. Time didn’t mean anything anymore. I just held him, my tears soaking into his hospital gown, my screams echoing off the walls until my voice gave out.
The staff found us eventually. Tried to pull me away. I fought them at first—clawing, scratching, refusing to let go—but eventually the fight drained out of me. They took his body. Called the funeral home. Started making arrangements.
And I went back to my room.
Sat on my bed in the dark.
And thought about what I was going to do next.
I couldn’t do this alone. I wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. My father was right about one thing—I didn’t have the connections or the resources to take on Prime by myself. The BCC was scattered. Kasim was dead. Demetrius was missing, probably dead too. Everyone who could’ve helped me was gone.
But there was one person who hated Prime almost as much as I did.
One person who had the power, the connections, and the motivation to help me destroy him.
I picked up my phone. Scrolled to a contact I’d saved weeks ago but never had the courage to call.
Vivica Banks.
Prime’s own mother.
The woman who’d approached me at that gala after Zainab slapped her. Who’d given me her card and whispered about making that bitch pay. Who’d looked at me with those calculating eyes and seen a useful tool.
At the time, I’d been too broken to follow up. Too consumed by my own pain to think about strategy.
But now?
Now I had nothing left to lose.
I hit call.
She answered on the third ring.
“Farah.” Her voice was smooth. Controlled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“My father is dead.” The words came out flat. Empty. “He died an hour ago.”
A pause. “My condolences. Rashid was a… formidable man.”
“He died because of your son.” I let that land. “Prime killed his other son, Kasim. In a Panamanian prison. My father got the call, and it broke him. He was gone within minutes.”
Silence on the other end. I could picture Vivica processing, calculating, figuring out how this information could be useful to her.
“I need your help,” I continued. My voice came out steadier than I expected. “I want to destroy Prime. And I want to make Zainab suffer.”
“I want her to suffer to. Zainab is in California on house arrest. She’s pregnant. She’s vulnerable. And I tipped off the police about her identity and her sister’s death.”
“What do we do?” I ask.
“You get her bail revoked. Send her back to jail. Make her give birth behind bars like the criminal she is.” I gripped the phone tighter as I listened to this diabolical plan. “And Prime will watch it happen. He will know that everything he loves can be taken away, just like he took everything from you.”
