Chapter 40 Prime
PRIME
I listened to the words coming out of Camille’s mouth and I couldn’t believe my fuckin’ ears.
Thad. My cousin. The nigga I grew up with, brought around my family, trusted with business and blood. The same nigga who sat at my dinner table, shook my hand, smiled in my face like everything was everything.
He killed Zahara.
He raped Farah.
And now he was in Mehar’s bed.
We agreed to not hold secrets. Yet here Zainab was, holding another one from me.
Why the fuck wouldn’t she tell me that my cousin was the one who murdered her sister?
Without a doubt, I would’ve handled that nigga swiftly.
I would’ve put him in the ground years ago if I’d known.
And now Mehar was dating this monster, sleeping next to a killer every night, thinking she’d finally found a good man after everything Ahmad put her through.
I was furious with Zainab to the point I couldn’t see straight.
A part of me was still high on the news that she’d given birth to twins.
A boy and a girl, both healthy despite being born on a prison bunk with no doctor in sight.
I was grateful she was alive—Camille told me about the hemorrhaging, the blood transfusion, how close we came to losing her.
And I was without a doubt gonna handle those COs who left her to die in that cell without lifting a finger.
But this shit with Thad? This was not okay.
I had proven time and time again that I would do anything for her. Kill for her. Die for her. Burn down everything I’d built just to keep her safe. Yet she kept this from me. And now Mehar was in danger because of it.
Mehar had already been through so much. Ahmad’s abuse. The years of captivity disguised as marriage. She was just starting to find herself again, just starting to believe she could be happy. And this was going to break her heart into a thousand pieces.
“Prime, where are you going?” Camille called out as I abruptly marched past her.
“Get out of my way, Cam,” I spat.
“You can’t go in that room. There’s a guard—”
Her words went in one ear and out the other. I needed to talk to my woman. And wasn’t no muhfuckin’ rent-a-cop gonna stop me.
Camille’s voice faded behind my footsteps. She followed but stopped as I approached the guard sitting outside Zainab’s door, pretending to be a barrier.
“Move out the way.”
“Sir—”
“Let’s not do this.” I stepped closer, letting him feel every inch of the difference between us.
“I ain’t gonna kidnap her or kill her. I just need to speak to her.
We can do this the easy way or the hard way.
And yes, that’s a threat—to you, yo’ mama, and any other muhfucka you love.
Underestimate me and live to regret it.”
I watched him swallow hard, his eyes moving over me like he was calculating his odds. I could see the recognition dawn on his face. Whatever he was getting paid wasn’t worth what I was promising to do to him.
“Fi… five… mi… minutes,” he stuttered.
“I’ll be in there however long I need to be.
Fuck you talkin’ to, lil nigga?” I stared him down until he scrambled out of the chair and moved aside.
Just because I wasn’t completely an asshole and didn’t need him calling backup, I pulled five hundred-dollar bills from my pocket and shoved them into his chest.
“Thanks?” He looked at the money like he wasn’t sure if this was a bribe or a trap.
I didn’t answer. Just pushed through the door.
And stopped.
Zainab was sitting up in the hospital bed, still handcuffed to the railing, still wearing that thin hospital gown, still looking like she’d been through hell and barely made it back.
Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, her body deflated in a way that reminded me how close I’d come to losing her.
But that wasn’t what stopped me.
It was the two babies in her arms.
My daughter was cradled against her left side, swaddled in a pink-and-white hospital blanket, her tiny face scrunched up in sleep. She was so small. So impossibly small. And even from across the room, I could see it—she had my lips. That same shape I saw every morning in the mirror.
And my son.
My SON.
He was tucked against Zainab’s right side, smaller than his sister, with features that were unmistakably mine. I’d spent months talking to “princess” through Zainab’s belly, planning a nursery in pink and purple, imagining teaching my daughter how to throw a punch and scare off boys.
Nobody told me there was a boy in there too.
Nobody told me I was gonna have a son.
Something cracked open in my chest. Something I didn’t have words for. I stood there in the doorway, six-foot-three of fury and violence and plans for revenge, and I felt my eyes burn in a way they hadn’t since I was a kid.
“I know you’re mad…” Zainab started, her pretty bottom lip quivering.
I crossed the room slowly. Not toward her—toward them. My babies.
“Can I hold him?”
She blinked, thrown off by the question. She’d been expecting yelling. Accusations. The explosion she knew was coming.
“Of course.”
She shifted carefully, and I reached down and took him from her. Cradled him against my chest like he was made of glass. Felt his warmth. His weight. The impossible smallness of him pressed against me.
“Hey, little man,” I whispered. “I’m your daddy.”
He stirred. Made a small sound that wasn’t quite a cry, more like a complaint about being moved. Then he settled against me, his tiny fist curling around nothing, and I felt something shift in the universe. Something permanent.
I had a son.
Whatever else happened today, whatever violence I was about to commit, whatever mess I had to clean up—I had a son. And a daughter. And a woman who almost died giving them to me.
I looked at Zainab. Let her see everything in my eyes—the love, the fury, the hurt, all of it tangled together.
“What the fuck I gotta do to make you trust me, huh?” My voice was low and controlled. Didn’t want to wake my sleeping babies. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve changed everything about who I am for you. Why do you keep hiding shit from me?”
“Because I wanted to wait until—”
“Until what?” I cut her off. “Wait until he hurt someone else you love? Because that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Mehar is with him, Zainab. She’s probably lying next to him right now thinking she finally found a good man. And he killed your fuckin’ sister.”
“I know. I just needed—”
“Needed what? To handle it yourself? To be the one to pull the trigger?” I shook my head, still holding my son against my chest like an anchor.
“I get it. I do. He took your sister from you. You wanted that moment. But this ain’t just about you anymore.
It’s about Mehar. It’s about this family. You should’ve told me.”
Tears were streaming down her face now. “I didn’t know who he was until I got arrested.
I saw him at the grand opening and everything clicked, but by then I was in handcuffs and then I was in California and then I was in that cell and I just…
I thought I had time. I thought I could wait until I was out and then we could handle it together.
I never thought he would end up with Mehar.
I didn’t know they were even talking until she told me on the phone and then—” She gestured at her body, at the bed, at everything. “This happened.”
I looked at her, really looked at her. The handcuff around her wrist. The IV in her arm.
The way she was holding our daughter like she was afraid someone was going to take her away.
This woman had just given birth to twins on a prison bunk, almost bled to death, and woke up chained to a hospital bed.
And I was standing here interrogating her like she was the enemy.
She wasn’t the enemy.
Thad was the enemy.
I exhaled slowly. Let some of the rage drain out of me. Not all of it because I needed that rage for what came next—but enough to see clearly.
“Listen to me.” I moved closer, still holding my son.
“I understand why you did what you did. I don’t like it, but I understand.
You wanted to be the one to end him. You earned that right.
But you gotta understand something too—my job is to protect this family.
You, these babies, Yusef, Mehar, all of it.
I can’t do that job if you’re keeping secrets from me. You feel me?”
She nodded, tears still falling.
“If this shit ever happens again—if you’re holding onto something that could put you or anyone I love in danger—you tell me. Immediately. Not when it’s convenient. Not when you’ve got a plan. The second you know, I know. That’s how this works. We’re partners. That means no more secrets. Ever.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Prime. I’m so sorry. I fucked up.”
“Yeah, you fucked up.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting my lips linger there for a moment. “But I still love you. That ain’t never gonna change.”
She sobbed harder, reaching up with her free hand to grip my shirt.
“Before I go handle this,” I said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, “is there anything else you wanna tell me? Now is the time. Anything else you’ve been holding onto, any other secrets, any other shit that’s gonna blow up in my face later—I need to know right now.”
“No. That’s everything. I swear.”
“You sure?”
“I swear on our babies’ lives. That’s everything.”
I studied her face. Searched for any flicker of hesitation, any sign of another lie waiting to surface. Found nothing but exhaustion and guilt and love.
“Alright.” I looked down at my son one more time, memorizing his face, making a promise to him that I didn’t say out loud. Then I carefully handed him back to Zainab, watching her settle both babies against her chest.
“What are you gonna do?” she asked quietly.
“What I gotta do.” I was already moving toward the door.
“Prime.” Her voice was sharp. “Don’t kill him. Not yet. I want to be there. I want to look him in the eyes when it happens. Please.”
I paused at the door. Looked back at her, my Goddess, my future wife, the mother of my children. Chained to a hospital bed but still trying to claim what was hers.
“You’ll get your shot,” I said. “I promise you that.”
Something dark flickered in Zainab’s eyes. Satisfaction, maybe. Or anticipation.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too. All three of you.” I looked at the twins one more time—my daughter sleeping peacefully, my son already awake and staring at nothing with those unfocused newborn eyes. My eyes. Oceanic orbs looking around. “Get some rest. Camille’s gonna get you out of here.”
I stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind me.
The guard was still standing there, clutching his five hundred dollars, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should arrest me or thank me.
I walked down that hallway, pulling out my phone, already dialing Justice’s number.
A nigga just wanted to go home and be with my family. Hold my babies. Sleep next to my woman. Live that quiet life I’d been building toward for years.
But first, I had work to do.
And Thad was about to find out what happened when you crossed the wrong family.