Chapter 4 Prime
PRIME
Three hours.
That’s how long it took for Zainab to tell me everything. Her father. The beating. Getting kicked out at sixteen. Running to Meech’s trifling ass. The baby. The cheating. The STD. Getting that nigga locked up and bouncing to Cali. The struggle. The grind. The gambling club.
The murder she witnessed.
Her sister’s body on the kitchen floor.
Becoming someone else to survive.
Three hours of her voice cracking and breaking and rebuilding itself just to keep going. Three hours of revelations that rewrote everything I thought I knew about the woman sitting next to me.
And now she was crying. Silent tears streaming down her face, her hands twisted in her lap, her whole body curved toward the window like she was trying to make herself smaller.
Like she was waiting for me to explode. To curse her out.
To pull over and leave her on the side of the highway like she probably thought she deserved.
Part of me wanted to.
I’m not gonna lie—part of me was so fucking furious I could barely see straight.
This woman had been lying to me since day one.
Every conversation. Every kiss. Every time I was inside her, calling her Zahara, she was holding this secret behind her teeth.
I’d kill for her. Already disposed of a body for her.
Given her my whole heart on a silver platter, and she’d been living a lie the entire time.
But the other part of me—the part that had been listening for the past three hours—understood.
She was sixteen when her father beat her bloody and threw her out like trash. Sixteen when she had to watch her pregnant sister get degraded by a man who was supposed to love her. Sixteen when she started making impossible choices just to survive.
And she was only twenty-six when she walked into her apartment and found her twin sister murdered on the kitchen floor. When she had to look at her own face—dead and empty—and make a split-second decision that would define the rest of her life.
She didn’t steal her sister’s identity for fun. She did it to protect Yusef. To keep him out of the system. To keep them both alive.
I couldn’t hate her for that.
But I was still mad as fuck.
Because she should have told me. After everything we’d been through—after I proved over and over again that I would do anything for her—she should have trusted me with the truth.
I glanced in the rearview mirror.
Yusef was pressed against the back seat, his face turned toward the window, but I could see the tears glistening on his cheeks.
He’d been quiet through most of it. Too quiet.
This kid had seen his mother’s body at nine years old.
Had spent the last three years calling his aunt “Mama” and keeping a secret that no child should ever have to carry.
My chest tightened.
I thought about how stern I’d been with Rashid back at that prison.
The look on his face when I pushed back—like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
In all the years I’d known that man, I’d never stood up to him like that.
Never challenged his authority. Never put anyone above my loyalty to him.
But something else was bothering me too.
Something I couldn’t shake. Rashid had looked…
different. Thinner than usual. And that cough—deep and wet, the kind he’d tried to hide but couldn’t.
I’d never seen him show weakness like that.
The man was a fortress. Impenetrable. But today, standing in that prison hallway, he’d looked almost fragile.
Tired around the eyes in a way that had nothing to do with jet lag or a long day.
I pushed the thought away. Rashid’s health wasn’t my concern right now. Zainab and Yusef were.
And something else had shifted.
When Rashid barked at Zainab—when he tried to pull rank and tell me this was “family business”—something inside me snapped. She was my business. Her and Yusef. They were mine to protect, and I wasn’t about to let anybody—not even the man who’d saved my life—come at them sideways.
That was new for me.
I wasn’t sure what to do with it yet.
Zainab sniffled beside me, wiping her face with the back of her hand, and I reached over without thinking. Placed my hand on her thigh. Squeezed.
She flinched at first—probably expected me to snatch away from her—but then she relaxed. Just a little. Her hand came down to cover mine, trembling.
“Prime—” Her voice was raw. Wrecked. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you. So many times I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how, and then it had been so long, and I was scared—”
“Stop.”
She went quiet.
I kept my eyes on the road. Kept my hand on her thigh. Kept my voice level even though there was a storm raging inside me.
“I’m not gonna sit here and tell you it’s okay,” I said.
“Because it’s not. You lied to me. For months.
About who you are. About your whole fucking existence.
And I had to find out because that nigga screamed it in a prison hallway.
You know what kinda nigga I am. You know I would handle anything for you. ”
She made a small sound. Like I’d hit her.
“But I also heard everything you just told me. I heard what you went through. What you survived. What you did to protect that boy in the backseat.” I paused, jaw tight. “So I’m mad. I’m real fuckin’ mad, Zainab. But I understand.”
More silence.
Then, quietly: “What happens now?”
Good question.
I didn’t have a good answer.
By the time we pulled up to her apartment building, the sun was starting to set. Orange and purple bleeding across the sky, making everything look almost peaceful. Almost.
I killed the engine and sat there for a second, running through everything in my head. Rashid was out of the country—Brazil, he’d said—but he’d be back. And when he came back, he was probably going to want to take Yusef.
Then there was Meech. That nigga was getting out in three weeks, and he knew the truth now.
Knew that the woman he’d thought was his baby mama was actually her twin sister.
Probably figured out that the real Zahara was dead.
He was gonna have questions too. Demands.
Probably gonna try to use Yusef as leverage.
And underneath all of that, there was still the situation with Nigel.
Brandi’s son.
The boy Yusef had killed.
That shit wasn’t resolved. Not even close. The police were still investigating. Brandi’s baby daddy Zoo was still out there looking for blood. And as far as I knew, nobody had connected Yusef to what happened yet—but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
We couldn’t stay here.
“Come on,” I said, opening my door. “Let’s go.”
Zainab looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Go where?”
“Inside. Y’all need to pack your bags.”
Her brow furrowed. “Pack? Prime, what—”
“Did I stutter?” I got out of the car before she could respond, opening Yusef’s door and gesturing for him to come out. The boy moved slow, like his whole body was weighed down with grief, but he followed me without question.
Zainab caught up to us at the entrance to the building, her hand catching my arm. “Prime, wait. Talk to me. What are we doing?”
I turned to face her. Looked down into those brown eyes that I’d fallen for all those months ago. The same eyes that had been lying to me this whole time.
“I’m angry,” I said, keeping my voice low so the whole block didn’t hear our business. “I’m angry as fuck, Zainab. You kept this from me. Made me fall for a woman who doesn’t even exist. Had me out here ready to burn the world down for you, and I didn’t even know your real name.”
Her bottom lip trembled, but she didn’t look away. I respected that.
“But even though I’m angry,” I continued, “I still gotta protect you. That’s not something I can turn off.
It’s not something I want to turn off. So whatever we are right now—whatever this is—we’re gonna figure it out.
But not here. Not when Zoo is out there looking for who killed his son and the cops are sniffing around and Meech is about to be back on the streets. ”
“So we’re staying with you?”
“I never wanted you to leave my penthouse in the first place. You took that shit with Farah too far.”
She stared at me for a long moment. I could see the questions in her eyes. The doubt. The fear. But underneath all of that, there was something else.
Trust.
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Aight. Let’s go.”
The apartment was the same as I remembered it. Small. Cramped. But clean. Zainab kept a tight ship, I’d give her that.
I stood by the door while she and Yusef moved through the space, grabbing clothes and toiletries and whatever else they needed. Didn’t take long—they traveled light. Probably a habit from all those years of running.
Five minutes,” I said, checking my phone. “Then we’re out.”
Zainab nodded, disappearing into her bedroom. Yusef was in his room, and I could hear him moving around, the soft thud of drawers opening and closing.
“We’re ready.” Zainab appeared in the hallway, a duffel bag over her shoulder, Yusef trailing behind her with his own backpack.
“Let’s move.”
We headed for the building’s door—and that’s when it opened.
Not from my hand.
From the outside.
I moved on instinct, stepping in front of Zainab, my hand going to the piece on my hip. But it wasn’t a threat.
It was Brandi.
She stood in the doorway, key in her hand—probably had a spare for emergencies—looking like she hadn’t slept in a week.
Which, given what had happened to her son, she probably hadn’t.
Her eyes were red and swollen, her braids were messy with new growth and frizz, and her clothes looked like she’d been wearing them for days.
Grief had a way of destroying people from the inside out. I’d seen it before. Was seeing it now.
“Zahara?” Brandi’s voice was hoarse. Confused. Her eyes traveled from me to Zainab to Yusef to the bags in our hands. “Y’all going somewhere?”
Zainab stepped around me, her face immediately shifting into something softer. Something careful. “Hey, girl. Yeah, we’re just… taking a little trip. Getting out of the city for a few days.”
Brandi nodded slowly, but I could tell she wasn’t really processing. Her eyes were distant. Haunted.
“Yusef.” She looked at the boy, and something like warmth flickered across her face. “How you doing, baby?”
Yusef’s whole body went tense. I watched him swallow hard, watched him fight to keep his composure, and my chest ached for him. This kid was looking at the mother of the boy he’d killed. The woman who had no idea that her son’s murderer was standing right in front of her.
“I’m okay, Miss Brandi.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m… I’m real sorry about Nigel.”
Brandi’s face crumpled. For a second I thought she was gonna break down completely, but she pulled herself together. Reached out and squeezed Yusef’s shoulder.
“I know you are, baby. I know.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Y’all were so close. He would’ve wanted you to be okay. You know that, right?”
Yusef nodded, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. Neither could Zainab.
The guilt in this hallway was suffocating.
“How’s the investigation going?” Zainab asked, and I heard the careful way she chose her words. “They got any leads?”
Brandi’s expression darkened. “Cops ain’t doing shit. You know how they are. Black boy gets killed in Southeast, they take they sweet time. File some paperwork. Ask a few questions. Then move on to something they actually care about.”
“I’m sorry, Brandi.”
“Don’t be.” Her voice hardened. “The mayor’s doing a press conference tonight. Talking about violence in the community, resources for families, all that political bullshit. But you know what? Maybe it’ll put some pressure on them. Make them actually do their jobs for once.”
My jaw tightened. The mayor. My mother. Of course she was gonna use this tragedy to boost her image. That was classic Vivica—never let a crisis go to waste.
“I hope you get justice,” Zainab said quietly. “I really do.”
Brandi looked at her for a long moment. Then at me. Then back at Zainab.
“Y’all be safe out there,” she finally said, stepping aside to let us pass.
“Take care of yourself, Brandi.” Zainab hugged her quickly, and then we were moving. Down the hallway. Down the stairs. Out into the evening air.
Nobody spoke until we were in the car with the doors locked.
I started the engine, checking my mirrors before pulling away from the curb.
Brandi was still standing at the entrance, watching us go.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that shit was about to get a whole lot worse.