Page 67 of Omar

"The man who connected you to Supreme's people. The one you called 'the connect.' I need his name."

Ray went quiet for a long time. Long enough that I checked the screen to make sure he hadn't hung up.

"Why you asking about that?"

"Because I need to know."

"Asha, that was years ago. That situation is done. You don't need to be digging into..."

"Ray." My voice stayed steady. "You traded me to clear your debt. The least you can do is tell me the name of the man who made that happen."

More silence. Then his voice came back smaller, weaker, the voice of a man who knew exactly what he'd done and had spent three years pretending he didn't.

"I only met him once," Ray said. "He came to the apartment. Sat at the kitchen table, drank my coffee, told me there was a way to make the debt go away. Said Supreme was looking for someone and that you'd be taken care of, that it wasn't like I was selling you, it was more like..."

"Like what, Ray?" My voice cracked. "Like what?"

He sighed again. "I wish you would just call me dad." He stopped for a moment before continuing. "He said it was an arrangement. A partnership. That you'd have a good life."

"A good life." I closed my eyes. A good life with a man I despise. "What was his name?"

"He never gave me a full name. Just said to call him Len. That's all I got. Len."

I texted Omar one word: Len.

His reply came in seconds: You sure?

Ray confirmed. Said he only met him once. Called himself Len. Never gave a full name.

Omar didn't reply for a while. When he did it was just: Thank you. Be safe.

I deleted everything, flushed the toilet, and went back to the living room where Supreme was watching a game. I sat next to him on the couch, tucked my legs under me, and let him put his arm around my shoulders.

I thought about what Ray had said. He wasn't street. He was something above it. A man who moved between worlds. Who brokered deals between fathers and criminals. Who sat at kitchen tables and drank coffee while arranging the trade of a twenty-seven-year-old woman for a debt.

I thought about the way Omar had gone quiet when I told him about the connect. The way his face had changed in the car when he'd said your story and mine are the same thing.

I sat there next to Supreme watching a game I didn't care about and I made a decision.

I was done waiting. Done calculating exit strategies and saving cash and planning logistics. I was leaving. Today.

Supreme left for a meeting after the game. I heard the front door close, heard the elevator, heard the car pull away from the building. I stood in the hallway for a full minute listening to make sure he was gone.

Then I moved.

I pulled a bag from the top shelf of the closet. Small, leather, the one I'd brought from Atlanta. I packed fast. Two changes of clothes, underwear, my phone charger, my makeup bag. I went to the bathroom and took my toothbrush, my moisturizer, the small things that were mine and not his. I left everything he'd bought me. Every dress, every piece of jewelry, every shoe. None of it was mine. It never had been.

I opened the banking app on my phone and transferred everything from the savings account to my checking. The number wasn't where I wanted it to be. Two thousand one hundred short. But it was enough to get somewhere. Enough to start.

I put on sneakers, jeans, a hoodie. Clothes that said leaving, not dinner. I picked up the bag, checked the apartment one more time, and walked out the front door.

The elevator took forty-five seconds. I counted every one. The lobby was empty except for the doorman, who nodded at me on the way out. I nodded back and pushed through the glass doors onto the street.

The air hit my face and for three seconds I was free. Three seconds of Brooklyn sidewalk under my sneakers, the sound of traffic, the sun on my arms, the bag on my shoulder, the future in front of me.

Then I saw them.

Two men I didn't recognize came off the wall twenty feet ahead. They were leaning against a parked car like they'd been waiting there the whole time. One of them was on his phone. The other was looking directly at me.