Chapter 10 Zainab
ZAINAB
I’d barely slept. Kept replaying my conversation with Prime in my head. The way his voice dropped when I told him about Mona. The laugh. That low, quiet laugh that said somebody was about to regret their life choices.
I’ll handle it.
Three words. That’s all he said. And I believed him.
I grabbed my shower caddy and headed toward the bathroom. The block was already moving—women shuffling to the showers, the phones, the common area. Same routine. Same faces. Same stale air that smelled like industrial cleaner and regret.
Then the screaming started.
High-pitched. Hysterical. Coming from down the row.
I stopped. So did everyone else.
More screaming. Then: “OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. SOMEBODY HELP.”
Women started moving toward the noise. I followed. Adrienne fell in step beside me, her face tight.
“The fuck is going on?” she muttered.
We rounded the corner and stopped at Mona’s cell.
The crowd was already forming. Women pushing to see, then stumbling back with their hands over their mouths. One girl was crying. Another one was throwing up against the wall.
I pushed through until I could see.
And there she was.
Big Mona. Laid out on her bunk. Eyes open. Mouth frozen in something between shock and a scream. Blood everywhere—soaking the mattress, pooling on the floor, splattered on the wall behind her.
Someone had carved her up good. Multiple stab wounds to the chest and stomach. Deep ones that said this was personal. But that wasn’t even the best part.
Next to her body, fanned out like somebody took their time arranging it, was a stack of Monopoly money. Colorful. Fake. Ten thousand dollars worth, if I had to guess.
I almost laughed.
Prime.
My man really sent a message. You wanted ten thousand? Here’s ten thousand, bitch.
Adrienne grabbed my arm. “Zainab. We need to go. Right now. Before the COs lock everything down.”
She was right. But I couldn’t move yet. Couldn’t stop staring at the body of the woman who threatened my baby less than twenty-four hours ago.
Funny how fast things change.
I cradled my belly with both hands. Seven months deep. Big as a house. And my baby was safe, for now.
I turned away from Mona’s cell and walked back toward mine. Behind me, the chaos was building—COs shouting, alarms starting to blare, the whole block about to go on lockdown.
But I was calm.
My man handled it.
And I loved him even more for it.
They locked us down for six hours while they investigated.
I spent most of it sitting on my bunk against the wall, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing. The block was quiet for once. No yelling. No drama. Just the occasional announcement over the intercom and the sound of investigators moving through the hallway.
Nobody knew who did it. Or if they did, they weren’t talking.
That was the thing about jail—snitches didn’t last long.
And whoever took out Mona had done everyone a favor.
She’d been running this block like her own little kingdom for years.
Terrorizing women. Extorting the weak. Making life hell for anyone who didn’t fall in line.
Now she was gone. And nobody was crying about it.
Around noon, a CO came to my cell.
“Ali. You got a medical appointment.”
I sat up. Right. The prenatal check. I’d almost forgotten.
They escorted me to the medical unit in cuffs. Standard procedure. Even pregnant women were considered flight risks, I guess. Like I was gonna waddle my way to freedom.
The exam room was small but clean. A female doctor was waiting for me—mid-forties, brown skin, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her name tag said DR. PATRICE COLEMAN.
“Ms. Ali.” She smiled and gestured to the exam table. “How are you feeling today?”
“Tired. Stressed. The usual.”
“That’s understandable given your circumstances.” She waited while the CO uncuffed me, then shooed him toward the door. “Give us some privacy, please.”
He hesitated but stepped outside.
Dr. Coleman helped me onto the table and got to work. Blood pressure. Temperature. All the standard stuff. Then she pulled out the doppler.
“Let’s check on that baby, shall we?”
She squeezed the cold gel onto my stomach and pressed the wand against my skin. For a second, there was nothing. Just static.
Then I heard it.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Fast. Strong. Steady.
My baby’s heartbeat.
My eyes burned. I didn’t even try to stop the tears.
“There she is,” Dr. Coleman said softly. “Strong heartbeat. Very healthy. You’re doing great, Mom.”
Mom. I wasn’t used to that word yet. Wasn’t sure I deserved it, given everything. But hearing that heartbeat, knowing my daughter was in there fighting just like me…
“She’s a fighter,” I whispered.
“Strong heartbeat. Very healthy.” Dr. Coleman wiped the gel off my stomach and helped me sit up. “You’re doing great, Mom. Third trimester, baby’s right on track.”
“So I’m cleared? For the transport?”
“Medically, yes. Just stay hydrated, keep taking your prenatals, and try to manage your stress.” She gave me a look like she knew that last part was a joke. “Whatever happens next, take care of yourself. And her.”
“I will.”
She handed me some prenatal vitamins and a pamphlet on pregnancy nutrition that I’d probably never read.
I was already hip to what I needed to do.
Prime had read everything he could and shared it with me.
He was giving me high quality prenatal vitamins and making sure I had the best food.
Oh, not to mention the weekly pregnancy massages.
He was treating me like a queen. Then the CO came back, cuffed me, and walked me back to my cell.
But I was holding onto that sound. That whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. My daughter’s heartbeat.
We were gonna make it through this. Both of us.
After lockdown lifted, I made my way to the phones.
Mehar answered on the third ring.
“Zainab! Oh my God, I’ve been waiting for you to call. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just had a checkup. Baby’s healthy.”
“Thank God.” I could hear the relief in her voice. “I’ve been so worried.”
“Don’t be. I’m good.” I leaned against the wall, keeping my voice low. “How’s the shop?”
“We’re holding it down. First few days back were busy. People coming in, showing support. The team is great—Shayla and JoJo are killing it in the kitchen, and Brooke’s got the front running smooth.”
“Good. That’s good.” I smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “Thank you for doing this, Mehar. I know it’s a lot.”
“It’s nothing. This is your dream. I’m just keeping the lights on until you come home.”
Home. I didn’t know where that was anymore. But I appreciated her saying it.
“How’s Serenity?” I asked.
A pause. Just a beat too long. “She’s good. You know Ren. Wild as always.”
Something in her voice. But I didn’t push. I had enough on my plate.
“Aight. Well, tell everyone I love them. And thank you. For everything.”
“I will. Love you, sis. Stay strong.”
“Always.”
I hung up and stood there for a minute, hand on my belly.
Mehar was holding down Sweet Zin. Prime was handling threats. My baby was healthy. Things were falling into place, even from behind these walls.
But there was one thing that stayed with me. One piece of unfinished business that I couldn’t let go of.
Thad.
I knew who he was now. Prime’s cousin. Part of the Banks family. Walking around free, living his life, while my sister rotted in the ground because of him.
I could tell Prime. One phone call. That’s all it would take. He’d handle Thad the same way he handled Mona. Quick. Clean. Final.
But I didn’t want that.
I spent five years not knowing where the man was who killed Zahara. Five years carrying that weight. Five years of nightmares and guilt and wondering if I’d ever get justice.
And now I knew. I finally knew.
That kill belonged to me.
Not Prime. Not Quest. Not anybody else. Me.
I wanted to look in Thad’s eyes when I pulled the trigger. Wanted him to know exactly why he was dying. Wanted him to see my sister’s face—my face—right before the light left his eyes.
And he wasn’t going anywhere. He was family. He’d be at Sunday dinners. At business meetings. At every event. Comfortable. Safe.
He had no idea I was coming.
Good.
Let him enjoy his last few months. Let him smile and laugh and think he got away with it.
Because when I got out of here—and I would get out—Thad was mine.
Vengeance was gonna be so fucking sweet.