Page 22 of Primal

What’s his address???

My eyes are glued to my phone as I run out of the club toward my car down the street. Just as I pass by an alley, I notice something out of the corner of my eye. I whip my head toward it and see a man lying in a heap on the ground beneath a flickering streetlight. From here, I can just make out Malcolm’s white shirt, now ripped and covered in blood. His skin, just beautiful and gleaming only moments ago, is now dull and lifeless in the orange-yellow light.

A ball of ice forms in the pit of my stomach.

I need to get out of here.

I check my phone again to see if there’s a response from Yo, but I’ve been left on read. Thankfully, her location is on, so after I call the police and let them know about the body in the alley, I start driving to where Yolanda is.

I’m coming to get you

NOW

***

After about thirty minutes of making wrong turns, getting stuck behind every slow driver in the city, and trying not to get pulled over by the cops, I finally make it to where Yolanda’s blue dot is. Now, I just have to figure out which apartment she’s in.

I’d been texting her on the way here, trying to get the apartment number, but none of my messages were being read. I don’t know why I’m so nervous; she could be perfectly fine, and I’m probably about to interrupt her mid-orgasm.

I start knocking on doors two at a time and waiting for someone to answer. A few people open their doors with an irritated glare my way, and I quickly apologize before moving on to the next.

I’m about to give up when the very last door opens, and Ahmad pokes his head out. As soon as he sees me, he tries to slam the door shut, but I rush over and push against it with a strength I didn’t know I had.

“Yolanda!” I yell, pushing past him and into the small apartment.

“Where’s my brother?” he asks, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him.

Malcolm—I didn’t realize they were siblings, but now that I get a good look at Ahmad’s face, I see the resemblance. They’re almost identical, except Ahmad has long locks and no beard.

“Where’s my friend?” I counter, digging my fingernails into his hand until he lets go.

Ahmad crosses his arms over his muscular chest and glares at me. “She’s an adult who can do whatever she wants.”

I roll my eyes and walk toward the door I think leads to the bedroom. “Not when she’s fucking drunk.”

Pushing the door open, I’m immediately filled with relief at the sight of Yolanda sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, cradling her stomach.

When she sees me, she tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace.

“Hey, girrrl,” she drawls, stumbling as she tries to stand up. I rush over to her and wrap her arm around my shoulder so I’m supporting most of her weight.

“We’re leaving,” I tell her firmly. “Did he touch you?”

Seeming to sense my alarm, she doesn’t fight me, even though I can tell she clearly wants to.

“No,” she says quietly.

I’ll have to explain to her in the morning why me coming to get her is saving her ass right now.

We walk past Ahmad without a word, and Yo tries to turn back to give him a kiss, but I move her along. He just smirks and laughs cruelly as we leave, the sound grating on my nerves.

When we step out of the apartment, I turn to him and coldly say, “Your brother is dead.”

“What the hell did you just say?” he demands, coming out after us.

Yolanda leans against me heavily, and I turn her so we’re both facing him. “He’s dead. And he was a fucking rapist.”

Almost, anyway.

---