The Long Game

Interlude: Shadows Between Us

Interlude: Shadows Between Us

Zaria had always been a mystery wrapped in fire. From the first time Folarin laid eyes on her, back when hustles were small-time and futures weren’t yet mapped in blood and wire transfers, she had that glow untouchable, wild, and hungry for more. Their paths had collided during a stash pickup gone sideways. While everyone else panicked, Zaria had kept her cool, pistol steady, mouth sharp. Folarin had been impressed. Intrigued. Hooked.

She had a different energy from the women he usually met. Amaka was soft, poetic, mysterious in a way that invited curiosity. But Zaria? She was smoke and mirrors, adrenaline and survival.

In those early days, they'd share long nights in motels and warehouse lofts, counting money, smoking weed, and laughing at the madness of the world. Zaria didn’t ask questions about what came next. She lived in the moment and that suited Folarin fine. Until it didn’t. It wasn’t love, not the way he now felt about Amaka. But it was something close. Something feral. Dangerous. The kind of connection forged in heat, not trust.

Now, as Folarin sat in the silence of his car, a message from Zaria still open on his phone, he felt that old storm building again.

ZARIA: "Meet me. I got something you need to see. But come alone. No Juno."

He hadn’t seen her in months. Not since she vanished with a cut from a shipment she claimed she had nothing to do with. Not since whispers started surfacing about her dealing with other crews.

Folarin couldn’t shake the feeling that this was either a trap or a cry for help.

He pulled up outside the dive bar she’d pinned low lights, cracked neon, the kind of place with more ghosts than regulars. Inside, she was at the back, leather jacket over bare skin, her hair twisted into locs that glinted bronze under the dim light.

“Still dramatic as ever,” he said as he sat.

Zaria smirked. “Still hard to kill.”

They didn’t hug. Didn’t need to. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. And maybe that’s why neither reached for one.

“I didn’t call you to reminisce,” Zaria said.

''You’re being watched. DEA. Fed named Royce. He’s not coming for you loud. He’s building something. Quiet. Surgical.”

Folarin’s face didn’t change.

“How do you know?”

“I know ‘cause I’m part of the bait,” she said.

''He made me choose. Prison, or feed him crumbs. I’ve been giving him misleads. But it won’t hold forever.”

A silence stretched between them.

“You want out?” Folarin asked.

Zaria lit a cigarette, her hands steady.

“I want my life. I want to disappear. But I need money. A clean slate. And maybe… a reason.”

Folarin watched her closely. She was still Zaria the chaos he once wanted, the warning sign he once ignored. But there was pain behind the fire now. A fracture in the steel.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

She laughed. “That’s your problem, Fola. You always thinking. One day, you’ll think too long, and the shot you don’t see coming will be the one that ends you.”

They parted without a touch, but with the weight of unfinished history clinging to their backs.

Outside, Folarin got into his car, the night air colder than it should’ve been. He dialed Juno.

“Put someone on Zaria. Discreet. I want eyes on her 24/7. And tell Tone to sweep our drops. We might be leaking.”



His voice was low, controlled. But something in his chest twisted.

Love was a liability. But so was loyalty.

And Zaria was both.