Chapter 35 Mehar
MEHAR
The Glock felt like an extension of my arm now.
I adjusted my stance the way the instructor taught me, with my feet shoulder-width apart, slight bend in the knees, shoulders relaxed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Squeeze, don’t pull.
The shot cracked through the air and the paper target jerked. Exactly at center mass. Right where I wanted it.
“Damn, girl.” Serenity’s voice came from behind me, impressed. “You’re so good!”
I smiled and fired again. Another center mass hit. Then another. And another. Six shots, tight grouping, all clustered around the heart.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” The range instructor, a thick Black woman named Denise who looked like she’d seen some things in her life, walked over to check my target. “You sure this is your first lesson? Most beginners can’t shoot like that.”
“It’s my first time in a long time,” I said, ejecting the magazine. “My ex-husband took me to the range years ago. He was preparing for some Hotep race war.” I rolled my eyes.
I thought about how good it felt to hold a gun. The last time I’d touched a gun, I’d put bullets in both of Ahmad’s knees, both his hands, and his pathetic little dick. Left him alive but destroyed, the way he’d tried to destroy me.
And I’d liked it. More than I wanted to admit.
“Well, the muscle memory’s still there.” Denise handed me a fresh target. “You want to try from twenty-five yards this time? See if you can maintain that grouping from further back?”
“Let’s do it.”
Serenity took the lane next to me while Denise set up my new target. I watched my best friend load her weapon which was a 9mm she’d bought after she started messing with Mega. Said she needed protection in her line of work. I didn’t ask what that meant. Wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
But at least she was sober today. Her eyes were clear, her hands were steady, and she wasn’t sniffling every five minutes like she usually did. I didn’t know if this was real progress or just a good day, but I’d take it.
The new target clicked into place at twenty-five yards. Further than I’d ever shot before. I raised the Glock, found my stance, and let my mind go quiet.
This was the part I loved. The stillness before the shot. The way everything else disappeared—the noise of the range, the smell of gunpowder, the weight of my past. In this moment, there was only me and the target. Only the choice to pull the trigger or not.
Control. That’s what this was. Pure, undiluted control.
I thought about Ahmad’s face. Superimposed it over the paper silhouette like I always did. Remembered the way he used to look at me, like I was property, like I was nothing, like I existed only to serve his needs.
I fired.
Head shot.
I thought about the attack outside the bakery. The man who’d grabbed me, thrown me against the wall, made me feel small and helpless all over again. If Thad hadn’t shown up when he did…
I fired again.
Another head shot.
I thought about my father and his mental, verbal and physical abuse. He laid the foundation for me accepting men treating me any kind of way.
I thought about every man who’d ever made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I was weak. Like I was something to be used and discarded.
I emptied the magazine.
When the smoke cleared, Denise let out a low whistle. “Girl. You just put eight rounds in a six-inch grouping from twenty-five yards.” She looked at me with something like respect. “You ever think about competing? You’ve got a gift.”
“Maybe someday.” I set the gun down and pulled off my ear protection. “Right now I’m just focused on making sure nobody ever makes me feel helpless again.”
Denise nodded like she understood exactly what I meant. “I hear that. You keep practicing like this, ain’t nobody gonna be able to touch you.”
That was the plan. I was taking up combat training as well as personal training so that I could get really fit. If a man ever laid his hands on me with the intent to harm, I was going to make him regret ever being born.
We grabbed smoothies after the range, which was Serenity’s idea; said she was trying to be healthier. I didn’t point out that “healthy” and “cocaine habit” didn’t exactly go together. Baby steps.
“So how’s your man?” Serenity asked, stirring her mango concoction. “Are you and my cousin still going strong?”
“Thad’s good.” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “He’s been busy with the club and the casino stuff, but he always makes time for me. I’m actually going to see him after this.”
“Look at you, all glowy and shit.” Serenity grinned. “I told you he was one of the good ones.”
“You did.” I reached across the table and squeezed her hand but then I stopped.
There was a bruise around Serenity’s wrist. Dark purple, almost black in some spots, shaped like fingers. Like someone had grabbed her and squeezed hard enough to leave marks.
“What happened to your wrist?”
Serenity pulled her hand back, tugging her sleeve down to cover it. “Oh, that? It’s nothing.” She laughed, nervously. “Me and Mega are into some freaky shit. BDSM, you know? I told him I wanted to be pushed to my limit without using my safe word. He got a little carried away.”
I stared at her.
I knew that laugh. I used to make that same laugh when people asked about my bruises. When I’d blame my “clumsiness” or make up stories about bumping into doorframes. That laugh was a shield. A deflection. A lie dressed up as a joke.
“Serenity…”
“I’m serious, Mehar.” She met my eyes, her smile still firmly in place. “It was consensual. I asked for it. You know I like it rough.”
I wanted to push. Wanted to grab her and shake her and tell her that I recognized the signs because I’d lived them. That she didn’t have to lie to me. That I’d been exactly where she was—making excuses for a man who hurt her, convincing herself it was love, believing she deserved it.
But I also knew that pushing too hard would make her shut down. Would make her defensive. Would drive her further into Mega’s arms instead of away from them.
So I filed it away. Stored it in the same place I kept all my concerns about her; the cocaine, the weight loss, the way she flinched sometimes when her phone buzzed.
I’d deal with it. Just not today. I needed her brothers to be all in on this but right now the focus was on getting Zainab home.
“Okay,” I said softly. “But you know you can tell me anything, right? No judgment. Ever.”
“I know, babe.” Serenity’s smile softened into something more real. “I love you for that. But I promise, I’m good. Mega takes care of me.”
I nodded and let it go. For now.
Thad’s apartment smelled like the Caribbean he’d ordered for us. He greeted me at the door with a kiss that made my toes curl, pulling me inside like he’d been counting the minutes until I arrived.
“There’s my girl.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind while I set down my purse. “How was your day?”
“Good. Went to the shooting range with Serenity.” I leaned back into his chest, enjoying the warmth of him. “I’m getting better.”
“That’s my baby. Deadly and beautiful.” He kissed my neck, making me shiver. “You hungry? Food just got here.”
“Starving.”
We ate on his couch, some reality show playing in the background that neither of us was really watching. This was my favorite part of being with Thad. It was the quiet moments, the comfortable silence, the feeling of being completely at ease with another person.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at it, then flipped it face down without responding.
“You not gonna get that?” I asked.
“It’s just work stuff. They can wait.” He pulled me closer, his hand sliding up my thigh. “I’d rather focus on you.”
I smiled and kissed him, letting myself sink into the moment. His phone buzzed again. And again. He ignored it each time, but I felt him tense slightly beneath me.
Before I could ask about it, my own phone rang.
Prime.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” I pulled away and answered. “Hello?”
“Mehar.” Prime’s voice was tight. Controlled in that way that meant something was very wrong. “I need to tell you something.”
My heart dropped. “What is it? Is everyone okay?”
“Zainab got arrested.”
The world tilted.
“What? How? She was on house arrest, she couldn’t—”
“Someone set her up. Sent her a fake threat about Yusef, made her think he was in danger. She left the house to save him and violated her bail.” I could hear the rage simmering beneath his words. “She’s back in jail. I’m working on getting her out, but it’s gonna take time.”
I couldn’t breathe. My sister—my pregnant sister—was sitting in a jail cell right now. Alone. Scared. Facing a murder charge for something she didn’t do.
“I’m coming to LA,” I said immediately. “I’ll book a flight tonight—”
“Mehar.” Thad’s voice was soft, concerned. He’d moved closer, his hand on my back. “What’s wrong?”
I covered the phone. “Zainab got arrested. I have to go.”
“Of course, baby. You should be with your family.” He rubbed my back soothingly. “Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He was so supportive. So understanding. I didn’t deserve him.
I went back to Prime. “I’m booking a flight right now.”
“Wait.” Prime sighed. “I appreciate that, but think about it for a second. You can’t abandon Sweet Zin right now. Zainab’s been stressed about it ever since this shit started. If you leave, who’s gonna run it?”
He was right. The bakery was Zainab’s dream. It was the business she’d built from despair, the legacy she was creating for her family. If I abandoned it now, everything she’d worked for could fall apart.
“I can’t just sit here while my sister is in jail.”
“You won’t be just sitting. You’ll be holding down her dream. Making sure she has something to come back to when this is over.” Prime’s voice softened. “That’s what she’d want, Mehar. Trust me. Keep doing what you’ve been doing. I just wanted you to be informed.”
I closed my eyes, tears threatening to spill. He was right. I hated it, but he was right.
“Okay,” I whispered. “But you keep me updated. Every single day. I want to know everything.”
“You got it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
We hung up, and I sat there on Thad’s couch, my phone clutched in my hands, trying to process what had just happened. My sister was in jail. Someone had set her up. And there was nothing I could do about it except keep her bakery running and pray.
Thad pulled me into his arms, letting me cry against his chest. He murmured soothing words, stroked my hair, held me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “Your sister’s tough. She’ll get through this.”
“I know.” I wiped my eyes and looked up at him. “Thank you for being so understanding. Most guys would be annoyed that I almost ran off—”
“Hey.” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I’m not most guys. Your family matters. I get that.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
I nestled back against his chest, letting his heartbeat calm my racing thoughts. His phone buzzed again on the table. He ignored it.
“You sure you don’t need to get that?” I mumbled.
“Positive. Nothing’s more important than you right now.”
I closed my eyes, exhausted from the emotional whiplash of the day. The shooting range felt like a lifetime ago. Serenity’s bruise. Zainab’s arrest. It was all too much.
But at least I had Thad. At least I had someone in my corner who showed up when it mattered, who held me when I cried, who made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this.
I drifted off against his chest, worn out from crying, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns on my arm.