Chapter 34 Zainab
ZAINAB
The urn was heavier than I expected.
Or maybe that was just the weight of everything it represented. Twelve years of running. Twelve years of lies. Twelve years of carrying my sister’s death while I raised her son and pretended to be somebody I wasn’t.
Now I was holding her ashes for real. And her son was God knows where, being tortured by a man who saw him as property.
I failed them both.
“I’m so sorry, Za.”
My voice cracked in the empty beach house. The sunset was bleeding through the windows—all oranges and pinks—the kind of sky Zahara would’ve made me photograph.
But she wasn’t here. Would never be here again.
The tears came hot and ugly. I’d been holding them back for days, trying to be strong, trying to focus on getting Yusef back. But alone with nothing but my sister’s remains and the fading light, I let myself break.
“They have him.” I pressed my forehead to the cool brass. “That man has your son and I can’t get to him. I promised you I’d protect him and I FAILED.”
The grief twisted into something else. Something hotter.
Rage.
At Rashid for taking him. At Meech for existing. At myself for not seeing this coming. At the whole fucking world for making me bury my twin and then trying to take her child too.
I set the urn down before I threw it.
Then I got on my knees.
I hadn’t prayed since Mama died. But right now I ain’t know what else to do.
“Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim.”
The words came back like muscle memory. Forehead to the floor. Hands flat. Complete surrender.
“Allah, I know I ain’t been the best Muslim. But I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for Yusef. He’s just a baby. Please don’t let that man break him. Please keep his spirit safe. Please bring him back to me.”
My voice cracked.
“I’ll do anything. Just please… let him be okay.”
I stayed on my knees until I heard the front door open.
My hand flew to the gun on the coffee table, but then I heard his footsteps. That heavy, confident stride.
“It’s me.”
Prime appeared in the doorway. All black. Face unreadable. But his energy was different. Wound tight. Coiled. Like a predator who’d just made a kill and was still carrying the hunt in his blood.
“Is it done?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He crossed the room but didn’t sit. Just stood there, tension radiating off him. “She’s at the warehouse. My cousin Thad is watching her. I’ll go back in the morning.”
I nodded. Farah—that psycho bitch who called me ghetto trash—was now tied up somewhere, scared and alone.
I should’ve felt bad. I didn’t. She tried to sabotage my business and she was my best chance at getting my nephew back.
“I know that was hard,” I said quietly. “She ain’t really do nothing wrong. She’s just… collateral.”
“She’s leverage.” His jaw was tight. “That’s all I can see her as right now.”
“I know.” I stood up, moving toward him. “I appreciate you. For doing what needs to be done. For going to war for Yusef.”
Something flickered in those ocean eyes. “I’d burn down the whole world for y’all.”
“Has Rashid responded?”
The flicker turned dark. “Nah.”
“You worried?”
“He’s planning something. The fact that he ain’t respond yet means it’s gonna be bad.”
We stood there in the dim room, the weight of everything pressing down on us. War. Grief. Fear. The not-knowing that was almost worse than knowing.
I needed to feel something else. Anything else.
“Prime.”
“Yeah?”
I closed the distance between us and grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Make me forget. Just for a little while. Make me feel something that ain’t grief.”
His eyes went dark. That predator energy I’d sensed when he walked in? It surged to the surface.
“You sure?”
“I need you.” I pulled him closer. “Please.”
He didn’t ask again.
He ain’t even hesitate. Just pulled me into him and took my mouth like it belonged to him. Hungry. Greedy. His hands gripped my waist, lifted me off my feet, and next thing I knew my back was against the wall and he was pressing into me like he was trying to fuse us together.
“This what you need?” His voice was a growl against my ear. “Need me to fuck the pain out of you?”
“Yes.” I was already pulling at his shirt. “Yes, please, yes—”
He yanked the hoodie over my head—his hoodie—and made a low sound when he saw I wasn’t wearing nothing underneath.
“Goddamn, Goddess.”
His mouth found my breast before I could respond. Hot and wet, tongue circling my nipple before he sucked it between his lips. I cried out, my head falling back against the wall, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He gave the same attention to the other one, sucking and biting until I was squirming against him, my hips grinding forward desperate for friction.
“Prime—please—”
“I got you.” He dropped me just long enough to yank my sweats down. I kicked them off while he dealt with his own clothes, and then he was lifting me again, my legs wrapping around his waist, my back pressed to the wall.
I felt him at my entrance. Hot. Hard. Ready.
“Look at me.”
I opened my eyes. Met his gaze.
“This pussy is mine,” he said. Not a question. A statement. “Say it.”
“It’s yours.”
“This heart is mine.”
“Yours.”
“And I’m yours.” He thrust into me so hard I saw stars. “All of me. Yours.”
I screamed his name.
He didn’t give me time to adjust. Didn’t go slow. Just pulled out and slammed back in, over and over, pinning me to the wall with his hips while his hands gripped my ass hard enough to bruise.
It was exactly what I needed. Rough. Raw. Desperate. The kind of fucking that left no room for thinking, no space for grief, nothing but sensation and sweat and skin against skin.
“Harder,” I begged. “Harder, please—”
He obliged. Shifted his angle so every stroke hit that spot deep inside me that made my toes curl. His mouth found my neck, biting and sucking, marking me up like he was claiming territory.
“This what you wanted?” His voice was ragged in my ear. “Wanted me to tear this pussy up?”
“Yes—fuck—yes—”
“Then come for me.” He reached between us, thumb finding my clit, rubbing circles that made my whole body shake. “Come on this dick, Goddess. Let me feel it.”
The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I screamed, nails raking down his back, inner walls clamping around him so tight he groaned.
“Shit—” He thrust harder, faster, chasing his own release. “Fuck, Zainab—”
He buried himself deep and came with a growl, his whole body shuddering against mine. I felt him pulse inside me, filling me up, and another smaller wave of pleasure rolled through my body.
We stayed like that for a minute. Pressed against the wall. Breathing hard. Hearts pounding.
Then he carried me to the couch and laid us both down, my body draped over his, his dick still inside me.
“Better?” he murmured against my hair.
“Yeah.” I pressed a kiss to his chest. “I needed that.”
“Me too.”
We lay there in the dark, the sound of waves outside the only noise. Tomorrow Rashid would make his move. Tomorrow everything could fall apart.
But right now, I had this. Had him. And that would have to be enough.