Chapter 13 Zainab
ZAINAB
December in DC ain’t no joke. The wind coming off the Potomac had teeth, biting through every layer like it had a personal vendetta against anybody stupid enough to be outside past sundown.
But here we were—me and Prime—bundled up on his balcony like two fools who ain’t have sense enough to stay inside where it was warm.
But I needed the air. Needed the sky. Needed to breathe something that wasn’t recycled penthouse oxygen and the lingering funeral smell that I swore was still stuck in my nostrils even though I’d showered.
Prime had set up the space heater, that fancy outdoor one that looked like a lamp, that restaurants and bars use.
We were wrapped in electric blankets—his idea, and honestly a game changer—with glasses of Banks Reserve cognac on the little table between our chairs.
The liquor burned going down, but it was the good kind of burn.
It warmed you from the inside out and made the cold feel almost manageable.
Yusef had been asleep for hours. Knocked out the moment his head hit the pillow, which was a blessing. That boy needed rest more than any of us.
Prime pulled a small bag from his pocket and started rolling a joint on the armrest of his chair. His fingers moved slow and precise, the same way they did everything—deliberate, controlled, like every motion had been thought through three steps ahead.
He finished rolling, sparked the lighter, and took a long pull. The tip glowed orange in the dark. He held the smoke, then exhaled slow, the cloud curling up and disappearing into the night.
He passed it to me.
I took it and inhaled. Coughed immediately. Prime chuckled and I cut my eyes at him.
“Shut up.”
“I ain’t say nothing.”
“Your face said plenty.”
We sat like that for a while, trading the joint back and forth, letting the weed and the liquor and the cold air mix together into something that almost felt like peace.
Almost.
“I keep thinking about Zoo,” I finally said. “The way he was looking at Yusef. The way he was asking questions. He knows something, Prime.”
“He don’t know nothing. He’s fishing.”
“But what if he catches something?”
“He won’t.” Prime’s voice was calm. Steady. “Yusef lied without flinching. Zoo can suspect whatever he wants. Suspicion ain’t proof.”
I wanted to believe him. But that image of Zoo standing at the curb, memorizing Yusef’s face through the back window—that wasn’t leaving my head anytime soon.
I took another hit. Let the smoke sit in my lungs before releasing it slow.
“Mehar called me today.”
Prime glanced over. “Yeah?”
“She told me my father’s in the hospital.” I stared out at the water. “Told me somebody attacked him at his store. Beat him real bad. Crushed his throat—he can barely breathe on his own.”
The silence was heavy.
“I had to act surprised,” I continued. “Ask all the right questions. Meanwhile I’m sitting there knowing exactly who put him there.”
“Zainab—”
“I’m not mad.” I turned to look at him. “What you did… I can’t say it was wrong. Part of me is glad he’s suffering.”
Prime’s jaw tightened, but he waited.
“I need to see him.”
He sat up straighter. “See him how?”
“I need to go to that hospital. Look him in his face. Say what I’ve been carrying for twelve years.”
“Aight.” He nodded slowly. “I’ll take you tomorrow. I’ll wait in the car while you—”
“No. I need to go alone.”
His whole body went still. “Alone.”
“Yes.”
“To Baltimore. By yourself. To confront a man who—”
“Who can’t move. Can’t speak. Can’t do shit to me.” I held his gaze. “You made sure of that.”
“That’s not the point.” His voice had shifted. Harder now. “You don’t know who else might be there. His wives. His other kids. Somebody who recognizes you and starts asking questions—”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Handle it how, Zainab?” He stood up, the electric blanket falling off his shoulders. “You gonna fight your way out if something goes wrong? You strapped? You got a plan?”
“My plan is to walk in, say what I need to say, and leave.” I stood, too, facing him. “That’s it. That’s the whole plan.”
“That’s not a plan. That’s a wish.” He stepped closer, frustration rolling off him in waves. “You’re talking about walking into an unknown situation with no backup, no protection, no—”
“No YOU.” I cut him off. “That’s what this is really about, right? You can’t stand the idea of me doing something without you there to control it.”
His eyes flashed. “Control? I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“And I’m trying to tell you I don’t need you to!
” My voice rose before I could stop it. “I’ve been keeping myself safe since I was sixteen years old, Prime.
I survived my father. I survived Meech. I survived watching my sister’s dead body on that kitchen floor and picking up my whole life and running across the country with a traumatized child.
I did all of that alone. Without you. Without anybody. ”
“And you almost died multiple times!”
“But I DIDN’T!” I was yelling now, and I didn’t care. “I’m still here! I’m still standing! And I’m so goddamn tired of everybody treating me like I’m fragile. Like I’m gonna break if somebody isn’t holding me together.”
“That’s not what I’m doing—”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing!” I stepped into his space, my finger jabbing at his chest. “You move me into your penthouse without asking. You decide Yusef is switching schools without discussing it with me first. You drive to Baltimore and nearly kill my father without telling me you were going. You make all these decisions FOR me, and I’m just supposed to be grateful because you’re doing it out of love? ”
His jaw clenched. “Everything I do is to protect you.”
“And that’s the problem! You’re so busy protecting me that you forgot to ask if I even wanted to be protected!
” I was breathing hard now, my chest heaving.
“You gave this whole speech about how I got power over you. How I brought you to your knees. Called me a goddess. But a goddess ain’t somebody you keep locked in a tower, Prime.
A goddess moves freely. Makes her own choices. Handles her own business.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you know it up here.” I tapped his forehead. “But you don’t feel it here.” I pressed my palm flat against his chest, right over his heart. “You say you trust me, but you don’t. Not really. Not enough to let me do this one thing by myself.”
He grabbed my wrist. Not rough—just firm. Holding me in place.
“You want to know why I can’t let you go alone?
” His voice was low. Dangerous. “Because I’ve lost people before.
People I was supposed to protect. And I can’t—” He stopped.
Swallowed hard. “I can’t lose you, too. I can’t sit here in DC wondering if you’re okay, wondering if something went wrong, wondering if I’m about to get a phone call saying—”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t KNOW that.”
“I know that I need to do this.” My voice softened, but I didn’t back down. “I know that if I let you come with me—even just to wait in the parking lot—I’ll always wonder if I could’ve done it alone. I’ll never know if I’m actually strong enough or if I just had you as a safety net.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a safety net.”
“Yeah, buy this is something I have to do for myself.”
We stood there, breathing hard, my wrist still caught in his grip, my palm still pressed against his heart. I could feel it pounding under my hand. Fast. Hard. Matching the rhythm of my own.
“You’re really gonna do this,” he said. Not a question.
“I’m really gonna do this.”
“And nothing I say is gonna change your mind.”
“Nothing.”
His eyes searched my face. Looking for cracks. Looking for doubt. Looking for anything he could use to convince me this was a bad idea.
He didn’t find it.
“You call me the second you leave that hospital,” he finally said. “The SECOND, Zainab. Not a minute later.”
“I will.”
“And if anything feels off—ANYTHING—you get out of there. You don’t confront it, you don’t investigate, you just leave.”
“I will.”
“And you text me when you get there. When you park. When you walk inside. I want to know every move you make.”
“That defeats the purpose of going al—”
“That’s my compromise.” His grip tightened on my wrist. “You want to do this alone? Fine. But I need to know you’re okay. I need SOMETHING, Zainab. Give me that.”
I looked at him—this man who was fighting every instinct in his body to let me have this. Who was terrified of losing me but trying to love me enough to let me go anyway.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I can give you that.”
Something shifted in his eyes. The fear was still there, but it was making room for something else now. Something hotter. More urgent.
“I hate this,” he said.
“I know.”
“I hate that you’re right.”
“I know that too.”
“And I hate that even when I’m pissed at you, I still want you so bad I can’t see straight.”
My breath caught. “Prime—”
He kissed me before I could finish.
Not gentle. Not sweet. This was hungry. Desperate. All that fear and frustration and helplessness pouring out of him and into me. His free hand grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me closer, deeper, until I couldn’t tell where his anger ended and mine began.
I kissed him back just as hard. Biting at his bottom lip. Fisting my hands in his shirt. Letting him feel every ounce of the fire that had been building in my chest since this argument started.
“Inside,” he growled against my mouth. “Now.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Just grabbed my thighs and lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist automatically, the electric blankets falling forgotten to the ground. He carried me through the balcony doors, across the living room, toward the stairs.
He kicked the bedroom door shut behind us and dropped me on the bed. I bounced once, looking up at him in the darkness, his silhouette massive against the city lights coming through the windows.
“You want to be strong?” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “You want to prove you don’t need saving?”
I rose up on my elbows, my heart pounding. “Yes.”
“Then show me.” He crawled over me, caging me in with his arms. “Show me how strong you are, Goddess.”
It was a challenge. A dare. A way of taking all that fear and frustration and turning it into something else entirely.
I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to me.
We didn’t make love that night. We fought.
With our mouths and our hands and our bodies.
Every kiss was a battle. Every touch was a claiming.
He pinned me down and I flipped us over.
I rode him and he grabbed my hips hard enough to bruise.
We pushed and pulled and took and gave until we were both sweating and shaking and crying out into the soundproofed darkness.
When it was over, we lay tangled together in the ruined sheets, breathing hard, my head on his chest, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my back.
“I’m still don’t want you going,” he murmured into my hair.
“I know.” I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart.
His arms tightened around me. “Just… come back to me. Whatever happens in that hospital room, whatever you need to say to him, just make sure you come back.”
“I will.” I tilted my face up to look at him. “I promise.”
He kissed my forehead. Soft this time. Tender.
“I love you,” he said. “Stubborn ass and all.”
“I love you too.” I smiled against his skin. “Overprotective ass and all.”
We fell asleep like that. Wrapped up in each other, the argument settled, the fear still present but manageable now.
Tomorrow, I was going to Baltimore.
Tomorrow, I was going to face my father alone.
But tonight, I was exactly where I needed to be.