FATE

Chapter 9: Deals in the Dark

Amara awoke to the sound of waves crashing against the shore, a steady rhythm that almost lulled her back to sleep. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, the reality of their situation hitting her in waves—David’s death, the danger that followed them, and the sharp edge of uncertainty that hung in the air. Zayne lay beside her, his arm draped protectively over her waist, his breathing deep and steady. For a moment, she felt safe.

But the thought barely settled before the tension from the previous night came rushing back. They were far from safe. Rico’s warning echoed in her mind: *Him people dem a look fi yuh. Them tink yuh kill him. Him full a links as much as him no rich like yuh, and di man ratings tall .*

Zayne stirred, sensing her wakefulness. He opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers, softening just for a moment before a glint of steely resolve replaced it. “Mornin’, love,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Yuh sleep good?”

“So mi say,” she replied, giving him a small smile. But the warmth quickly faded as she remembered why they were here. “Wah wi ago do, Zayne? We cya hide fi eva”

“Dat nah happen” he assured her. “Rico say him got links. Mek we wait and see.”

As if on cue, Rico knocked on the doorframe, a glint in his eyes as he walked into the room. “Hope unuh sleep good” he said, his tone casual, but there was an underlying tension in his voice. “Wi need fi chat bizniz.”

Zayne sat up, his gaze sharpening. “Wah kinda bizniz?”

Rico tossed a large envelope onto the table, the heavy thud of cash inside unmistakable. “Dat, rite desso, a wi ticket fi survival,” he said. “It enuff fi get di two a unuh new identities, passports, an a fresh start some weh far from yasso. But it nah go easy.”

Amara’s eyes widened as she looked at the envelope. The sight of that much cash was mesmerizing, a spark of hope in the midst of their desperation. But it was also a reminder of the cost—the risks that lay ahead. She glanced at Zayne, who was staring at the money with an unreadable expression, his jaw tight.

“How much dat?” Zayne asked, his tone wary.

“Enough,” Rico replied, leaning back against the wall, his gaze flickering between them. “But dis money neva come easy. Mi get it from a deal wid some… just say, *dangerous people*.”

Zayne frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Wah kinda people, Rico?”

Rico hesitated, rubbing a hand over his face. “Di kind weh nuh tek too kindly to backtracking or excuses. Dem a expect di money fi mek a return—a double, to be exact. Dem nah Juss gi wi like a charity, Zayne. Dis a wah investment, and dem wah see profit.”

Amara’s heart sank. She knew there had to be a catch, and now it loomed over them, a heavy, unspoken threat.

“Wah dem expect in return?” Zayne asked, his voice low and steady.

“Nuh much,” Rico said, shrugging. “Just dat you run a few jobs fi dem. Nothing major—juss transporting, collecting money, supmn like that. Dem want dem profit fi grow, an dem need people dem can trust.”

Zayne tensed beside her, his fists clenching as he listened. “Yuh mean dem want wi deal. Tek dem dutty money and risk wi life to keep it coming. It betta me risk me life an go inna the bank go withdraw mi money, a no like me bruck. Wanda if David have links in deh? Cause mi no wah dem ketch me a juss dat kmft.”

Rico held up his hands defensively. “Mi know a nuh wah yuh wah, but tink bout it, Zayne. Yuh wanted. Yuh got a bounty pan yuh head, an dis a yuh only option. Issa small price fi freedom.”

Amara looked at Zayne, fear and worry warring in her chest. She could see the conflict in his eyes, the temptation mingling with the disgust, the pull of freedom against the cost of compromising everything he stood for. “Zayne,” she whispered, touching his arm. “Maybe… maybe wi can do dis. Juss long enough fi lef outta di place.”

He looked at her, his gaze softening, the fierceness fading as he saw her fear. But she could feel his struggle, the war raging within him, and she knew this wasn’t just about survival. It was about what they were willing to sacrifice to be free.

“Fine,” Zayne said finally, his voice tight with resignation. “Wi ago dweet. But as soon as wi got enough, wi done. Nuh more dealings. Nuh more favors.”

Rico nodded, a flash of relief crossing his face. “Good. Then let’s get started.”


The next few days were a blur. Rico had them moving constantly, switching vehicles, meeting with shadowy figures in back alleys and dingy bars. Amara felt like she was living someone else’s life, each encounter laced with tension and the constant threat of violence. They’d trade briefcases of money for envelopes of pills, drive for hours across the island, only to drop off packages in unfamiliar towns.

Zayne barely spoke during these runs, his jaw clenched, his gaze hard and focused. Amara could see the strain wearing on him, the toll each deal took as he slipped further into a world he had once sworn to avoid. She could feel herself slipping too, her heart growing colder, harder, as each transaction stripped away a little more of her innocence.

One night, after a particularly tense handoff in the rain, they returned to Rico’s beach house, exhausted and soaked. Zayne dropped his bag on the floor, his face drawn and pale. He sank onto the couch, running a hand through his wet hair, his expression haunted.

“Amara,” he said softly, not looking at her. “Mi nuh know how much longa mi can do dis.”

She sat beside him, reaching for his hand, her heart aching at the anguish in his voice. “mi know, Zayne. But it almost done. Rico say wi deh close. Juss few more runs, and den wi can leave. Wi ago be free.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark and tired. “yuh believe so? Are dis ago falla wi any weh wi go?”

Amara didn’t have an answer. She wanted to promise him that everything would be okay, that they’d find peace on some distant shore, but the truth was she didn’t know. They were tangled in a web of lies and danger, and every deal they made seemed to pull them deeper.

As she held his gaze, the sound of a car approaching broke the silence. Zayne tensed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced toward the window. “Rico nuh supposed to come back yet.”

A prickle of fear shot through her as the headlights flooded the room, casting eerie shadows across the walls. Zayne stood, moving quickly to the window, his hand resting on the gun tucked in his waistband.

“Stay backa mi,” he murmured, his voice low and controlled.

Amara’s heart hammered as she followed him, the reality of their situation sinking in once more. The door burst open, and two men stepped inside, their faces shadowed beneath hooded jackets, eyes cold and calculating.

“Zayne, we need a word,” one of them said, his tone dripping with malice.

Zayne’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his gun. Wah yuh wah?”

The man smirked, pulling out a stack of cash and tossing it onto the table. “This isn’t just about the money anymore. Your little run was supposed to be clean. Instead, yuh drew too much attention. People are asking questions, and that’s bad for business.”

Zayne didn’t flinch, but Amara could see the tension in his body, the slight shift of his stance as he prepared for a fight. “Wi do wah yuh wah. If trouble deh deh, dat a your bizniz, nuh fi wi.”

The man laughed, a chilling sound that made her blood run cold. “Trouble? This is just the beginning. Consider this a warning. Cross us again, and the next visit won’t be so friendly.”

Without another word, the men turned and walked out, leaving a silence heavy with threat. Zayne exhaled, tension rippling through him as he holstered his gun, his hands shaking slightly.

“Wi a lef tonite” he said, his voice firm. “Nuh more deals. Nuh more waiting.”

Amara nodded, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and relief. She knew that leaving meant risking everything, that they would be hunted by dangerous people who wouldn’t forgive their betrayal. But as she looked at Zayne, his face set with determination, she felt a surge of hope. They’d fight, they’d run, they’d survive. Together.