Chapter 43 Prime
PRIME
The red-eye from LA landed at six in the morning. I didn’t sleep on the flight. Couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my son’s face. My daughter’s face. Zainab handcuffed to that hospital bed, looking like she’d been through a war and barely survived.
And then I saw Thad. Smiling at family dinners. Shaking my hand. Playing the loyal cousin while carrying secrets that should’ve gotten him killed years ago.
By the time I pulled up to the warehouse, the sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Beautiful morning. Peaceful. The kind of morning that made you forget ugly things existed in this world.
I was about to remind somebody.
Justice was waiting outside, leaning against his Range Rover, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I approached.
“He’s been hanging there all night,” Justice said. “Screamed himself hoarse for a few hours, then gave up. Pissed himself around 3 AM.”
“Good.”
“You sure you wanna do this yourself? I can handle it if you—”
“Nah.” I rolled my shoulders, cracked my neck. “This one’s personal.”
Justice nodded and fell into step beside me as I walked toward the warehouse entrance. The door groaned when I pushed it open, and the smell hit me immediately—sweat, piss, fear. The cologne of a man who knew he was in trouble.
Thad was exactly where Justice left him. Hanging from the ceiling by his wrists, arms stretched above his head, feet barely touching the ground. He couldn’t move, couldn’t shift his weight, couldn’t do anything but hang there and suffer.
He looked rough. Eyes swollen, lips cracked, dried blood crusted around his nose from where Justice must’ve got him during the initial takedown. His designer clothes were soaked with sweat and other things I didn’t want to think about.
When he saw me, something flickered in his eyes. Hope, maybe. Like he thought I was here to save him.
Stupid nigga.
“Prime.” His voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper. “Prime, bro, thank God. Tell Justice to let me down. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever he thinks I did—”
I walked up to him slowly. Took my time. Let him see my face, my posture, the complete absence of mercy in my eyes.
“Please, man.” He was crying now, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face. “Just tell me what I did. Whatever it is, I’m sorry. I’ll make it right. We family, Prime. We blood. You can’t do me like this.”
I stood in front of him, close enough to smell the fear coming off him in waves. Didn’t say a word.
“Is this about Mehar?” He was grasping now, throwing out guesses. “Because if it’s about me cheating on her, I’m sorry. It ain’t that serious. She ain’t even family—I am. I know she’s your girl’s sister, but come on, bro. It ain’t that serious.”
I punched him in the jaw.
His head snapped to the side, blood and spit flying from his mouth. The chains rattled as his body swung from the impact.
He groaned, working his jaw, then spit out a glob of blood onto the concrete floor. When he looked back at me, there was a new calculation in his eyes. Trying to figure out what I knew.
“Okay, okay.” He laughed nervously, blood staining his teeth. “This about Farah? Is that it?” He had the nerve to smirk. “I thought you ain’t even want her, bro. I just got some pussy. She was an enemy anyway—YOUR enemy. I only fucked her a couple times. She ain’t family either. I am.”
I punched him in the eye.
This time he screamed, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. His left eye was already swelling shut, the skin around it splitting from the force of the blow.
Then I hit him in the stomach.
He doubled over as much as the chains would let him, gagging, trying to catch his breath. I stepped back and watched him struggle. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. Sometimes silence was louder than any threat I could make.
“Bro…” He was gasping, drool and blood dripping from his lips. “Bro, please. Whatever this is about, we can talk. I got a baby on the way, Prime. I got a girl named Kacey and she’s about to have my kid. You can’t kill me. I’m about to be a father.”
I tilted my head. Looked at him like he was the dumbest motherfucker I’d ever met.
“Zahara had a baby.”
He blinked. Confusion replacing the panic for just a moment.
“What?”
“Zahara. Had. A baby.” I stepped closer, getting in his face. “And you killed her.”
“Who?” He shook his head frantically. “I ain’t kill nobody named Zahara. I don’t even know who that is. You got the wrong—”
“My girl worked at the BCC casino in LA.” I watched his face, waiting for the recognition. “She saw you kill someone in an alley behind the club. Some nigga who owed you money. You saw her watching. And then you retaliated.”
His eyes were darting now, searching his memory.
“You went after the witness. But you got the wrong one.” I let the words land like punches. “You killed her twin sister instead. Thinking it was her.”
I watched it happen. Watched the confusion clear. Watched the memory surface from whatever hole he’d buried it in.
“Ohhhhh.” The word came out long and slow, like a man who’d just solved a puzzle he didn’t know he was working on. “That was like… five, six, seven years ago. Some nigga owed me money and I popped him in the alley. Yeah, yeah, there was a witness. Some bitch saw me.”
Bitch.
I punched him again. Square in the mouth. Felt something crack under my knuckles, teeth, maybe.
He howled, blood pouring down his chin.
“I’m sorry!” he screamed, the words garbled by his swelling lips. “I’m sorry, okay? Not that bitch—I mean, not the witness. Your girl. I’m sorry, nigga. I didn’t know she was connected to you. How was I supposed to know?”
“You took someone from her that was very important.” My voice was calm.
Controlled. The opposite of what was happening inside me.
“You ruined her life. Ruined Yusef’s life—that’s her nephew, by the way.
The kid she’s been raising because his mother is DEAD.
And Mehar. You ruined her life too. Dating the man who murdered her sister while she thought she was finally finding happiness. ”
“I barely remember that shit, Prime.” He was sobbing now, snot and blood mixing together on his face. “It was years ago. I was young. I was stupid. I was working for Rashid and doing whatever I had to do to survive.”
“I don’t care.”
“I didn’t even do it myself!” The words exploded out of him like he’d been holding them back. “I sent Dubz. My nigga Dubz handled the actual hit. Dwight White. He was my right hand back then. I paid him to take care of the witness. Your beef is with him, not me.”
Silence.
Then, from somewhere behind me, Justice’s voice: “There’s a nigga named Dwight White?”
I almost laughed. Almost.
“YES. Dwight White. Dubz.” Thad was nodding frantically, like he’d just handed me a get-out-of-jail-free card. “He did the actual killing. I just gave the order. You want the real killer? Go find Dubz. He’s probably still in LA somewhere. I can help you find him. Just let me go and I’ll—”
“You ordered the hit.” I cut him off. “That makes it your kill. Dubz pulled the trigger, but you loaded the gun.”
The hope drained from his face.
I glanced back at Justice and nodded toward the door. He understood immediately, go find Dwight White. Start digging. We weren’t done yet.
Justice peeled off from the wall and headed out, already pulling out his phone.
I turned back to Thad.
“Please.” He was barely whispering now, all the fight gone out of him. “Please let me go. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again. I’ll leave the country. Whatever you want.”
“What I want is to kill you myself.” I stepped back, looking at him one last time. “But that ain’t my call. I made a promise.”
“To who?”
“To my girl.” I smiled, and I knew it wasn’t a nice smile. “They’re gonna handle this. Not me.”
The color drained from his face. Whatever he’d been expecting—a bullet, a blade, a beating—it wasn’t that. Women. The women he’d wronged. Coming to collect.
“Prime, please—”
“Sit tight, cousin.” I headed for the door. “They’ll be here soon.”
His screams followed me out of the warehouse, echoing off the concrete walls, fading into the morning air as I walked to my car.
One down. One more conversation to go.
Mehar’s apartment was quiet when I knocked.
It took her a minute to answer. When she did, she looked like she’d been through hell—eyes red and puffy, hair thrown up in a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. She’d been crying. Recently.
“Prime?” She blinked at me, confused. “What are you doing here? Is Zainab okay? Did something happen with the babies?”
“Babies are fine. Zainab’s fine.”
Relief washed over her face. “Oh thank God. I’ve been so worried, I couldn’t sleep, and then Thad left last night and I’ve been alone and—”
“Can I come in?”
Something in my voice made her stop. She searched my face, looking for clues, and whatever she found made her step aside without another word.
I walked into her living room and stood there for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what I needed to say. There was no easy way. No soft landing. I just had to do it.
“Sit down, Mehar.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I know. Sit down anyway.”
She sank onto the couch, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes never leaving my face.
I sat across from her. Took a breath.
“I need to tell you something about Thad. And it’s gonna hurt. But you need to hear it, and I need you to let me finish before you say anything. Can you do that?”
She nodded slowly, her face already crumpling like she knew something terrible was coming.
So I told her.
I told her everything about Zahara and the fact that he had another woman pregnant.
I told her that the man she’d been sleeping next to, the man she thought was her fresh start after Ahmad, was the same man who’d destroyed her family before she even knew he existed.
By the time I finished, she was sobbing. Deep, ugly sobs that shook her whole body. I moved to the couch beside her and pulled her into my arms, letting her cry against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Mehar.”
“How long?” Her voice was muffled against my shirt. “How long have you known?”
“Zainab just told me. She figured it out at the grand opening but she was arrested before she could say anything. She’s been holding onto it ever since.”
“And Thad? Where is he now?”
“I have him.”
She pulled back, looking up at me with wet, red eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s not going anywhere until you and Zainab decide what happens to him.”
Something shifted in her face. The grief was still there, but something else was rising underneath it. Something harder. Something I recognized because I’d seen it in myself.
“I want to talk to him.”
“Mehar—”
“I want to look him in the face.” Her voice was steady now, despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I want him to know that I know. I want to see him try to explain himself.”
I studied her for a long moment. This woman who’d already killed one man who hurt her. Who’d been training at the range for months, getting better and better, preparing for something she didn’t even know was coming.
“Okay,” I said finally. “But not alone. And not until Zainab’s out. You two do this together.”
She nodded.
“Prime?” She grabbed my hand before I could stand. “Thank you. For telling me. For not just… handling it yourself.”
“Zainab asked me not to. Said you both earned the right to finish this.”
“She was right.” Mehar wiped her face with the back of her hand, and when she looked at me again, there was something new in her eyes. Something cold. Something ready.