Chapter 20 Mehar
MEHAR
Every day I went back and forth about getting rid of Thad. But my ego still liked having his ass chained up in that cage. I relished in it. He played me and now I was in control of his life. I took all my frustration about my father and Ahmad on him.
But I knew this wasn’t healthy. I needed to let him go. But this wouldn’t end with him walking out of there alive. First of all his ass couldn’t walk. Those legs he used to run game on women no longer worked. Even with surgery, he would likely never gain mobility again.
Besides, Zahara would never walk again either. At this point I’ve dealt him a worse fate than my sister received. He fucked with the wrong one. But the time was coming to an end. It was time to kill him and get it over with.
The warehouse smelled rank and disgusting. When I finally killed him, I’d have to thoroughly clean it out and leave the door open to let it breathe.
I parked around back, checked my mirrors twice, and went in through the side entrance with my gun in one hand and a bag of food in the other.
There he was on the floor, curled on his side with his back to me.
His legs hadn’t worked right since I destroyed his knees, and the muscle in his arms had wasted down to almost nothing from six months of not using them.
His hair was matted, his beard had grown wild, and he smelled like a man who had given up on everything except hate.
I set the bag on the floor outside the cage. Turkey sandwich, water bottle, an apple. I wasn’t trying to give him a five-star meal, but I wasn’t trying to starve him to death either. That would be too easy for him and too merciful for me.
“Eat,” I said.
He didn’t move for a few seconds. Then he rolled over slowly and looked at me with those eyes that used to make me feel beautiful and now made me feel nothing at all.
He’d lost weight everywhere except his face—his cheeks were hollow but his eyes were still the same.
Still sharp, still calculating, still looking for the angle even from inside a dog cage with shattered knees.
“You know what I think about every day?” His voice was hoarse and dry.
He hadn’t spoken to anyone but me in six months and it showed.
“I think about the day I get out of this cage. And the first thing I’m gonna do is find you.
And I’m gonna slit your throat so slow you’ll feel every inch of the blade.
Then I’m gonna stand over you and watch you bleed out the same way you stood over me when you bashed my knees. ”
I crouched down to his level. Looked him right in the face through the bars. “You can’t even stand up, Thad. You’re not slitting anybody’s anything.”
“I’ll crawl to you if I have to.”
“With what arms? You can barely lift that sandwich.” I pushed the bag through the slot at the bottom of the cage. “Eat your food.”
He knocked the bag sideways with his elbow, spilling the sandwich onto the floor of the cage. The water bottle rolled to the far corner. The apple sat there between us like a dare.
“I’m not eating shit from you,” he said.
“Then starve.”
I stood up and walked to the wall where the hose was coiled on a hook. I turned the spigot and the water came out ice cold. I dragged the hose to the cage and aimed it through the bars.
“Wait—wait, Mehar, don’t—”
I opened the nozzle. The water hit him full force and he screamed—a sound that was half rage and half shock—and tried to shield his face with his arms but his arms were too weak to hold up for long.
The water soaked through his clothes and pooled on the concrete floor of the cage and he curled into a ball with his back to me, shaking, gasping, cursing my name between coughs.
I held the hose on him for about thirty seconds. Long enough to clean him. Long enough to remind him who was in charge. Then I turned it off and coiled the hose back on the hook.
“You stink,” I said. “Now eat the sandwich or don’t. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
He didn’t say anything. Just lay there on his side in a puddle of cold water, shivering, with his eyes closed and his fists clenched. Six months ago he was a man who drove an Audi and wore Versace and had two women. Now he was a wet animal in a cage who couldn’t feed himself without my permission.
I should’ve felt something. Guilt or satisfaction or pity or triumph.
But I felt the same thing I always felt when I left the warehouse—empty.
The same hollowness that followed me out of the dungeon after a client left.
The same nothing that Janelle kept trying to help me fill with something other than control.
I locked the warehouse, got in my car, and sat there for a minute with my hands on the steering wheel. My phone buzzed.
Serenity: Heyyyy girl. I miss you. Dinner tonight? My treat.
I hadn’t seen her in almost three weeks.
We used to live together, used to talk every day, used to be so close that you didn’t need to make plans because you were always in each other’s space.
But ever since she moved in with Mega, the distance had grown.
Not because we stopped caring about each other but because her life had shifted into an orbit that didn’t include me the way it used to.
Me: Yeah I’m down. Where?
Serenity: Founding Farmers? 7?
Me: See you there.
I went home, showered off the warehouse, changed into jeans and a fitted top, and drove to Founding Farmers on Pennsylvania Ave.
The restaurant was crowded for a weeknight, but Serenity had already gotten us a booth near the back.
I spotted her before she spotted me and the first thing I clocked was her eyes.
Her pupils were too wide. Her movements were a little too loose, a little too animated. She was talking with her hands more than usual and her laugh was pitched higher than normal. I’d seen this version of Serenity enough times to know what it meant. She was high.
“Mehar!” She jumped up and hugged me tight, rocking me side to side. “Oh my God, I missed you so much. You look amazing. Is that a new top? Sit down, I already ordered us drinks.”
“I’m driving, so just water for me.”
“Boring. I got you a margarita anyway. You can just sip it.”
I sat down and looked at her across the table.
She was beautiful as always, hair done, makeup flawless, outfit expensive.
She had pretty, clear sepia-toned skin. Her big doe eyes were my favorite feature and she kept her lashes lengthy and wispy.
High cheeks bones and a small chin dimple accompanied her Bambi like face.
But underneath all of that, something was off.
She was thinner. The energy she was radiating wasn’t joy, it was chemical.
And there were shadows under her eyes that the concealer couldn’t fully hide.
“How’ve you been?” I asked.
“So good. Mega and I just got back from Miami. He surprised me with a whole trip—beachfront hotel, spa day, dinner at this insane rooftop restaurant. He’s so good to me, Mehar. Like, I don’t even know what I did to deserve this man.”
“That sounds nice.” I kept my voice even.
Her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, typed something quickly, and set it back down. Thirty seconds later it buzzed again. And again. And again.
“You need to get that?” I asked.
“It’s just Mega. He’s checking in.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He worries about me.”
“He’s called three times since I sat down.”
“He just wants to know where I am. To make sure I’m safe. It’s actually really sweet if you think about it.”
I didn’t think it was sweet. I thought it was a pattern I recognized from two different men who had controlled every woman in their lives under the disguise of love and protection.
My father checked on his wives constantly—not because he cared about their safety but because he needed to know they weren’t doing anything he hadn’t approved.
Ahmad did the same thing. Texting every hour, calling if I didn’t respond in ten minutes, showing up wherever I was if I took too long to answer.
“Serenity, how often does he do that? The checking in.”
“I don’t know. Whenever I go out.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just because he cares—”
“That’s not caring, Serenity. That’s controlling.
” I said it straight because I loved her too much to wrap it in something soft.
“I’ve lived with men like that. I know what it looks like when someone is tracking you and calling it love.
It starts with checking in and it ends with you not being able to go anywhere without permission. ”
I didn’t even bother bringing up those bruises I saw a couple of months back. I knew what they were. Even though she lied and said they were from rope play or whatever.
Her face changed. The loose, high energy tightened into something defensive and her jaw set the way it did when she was about to fight.
“You don’t know Mega. He’s not like that.”
“I know what I’m seeing. Your pupils are dilated, you’ve lost weight, and your man is blowing up your phone while you’re at dinner with a friend. That’s not love, Ren. That’s a leash.”
“Oh, so now you’re an expert on relationships?
You’ve had two failed relationships. Shit, you’re practically a virgin.
” She regretted it the second she said it.
I could see it flash across her face, the instant recognition that she’d crossed a line.
But the words were already out and they sat between us on the table next to the margarita I wasn’t drinking.
“I’m an expert on abuse and you know that’s true,” I said quietly.
“I’m not being fuckin’ abused! So, stop lecture me about Mega checking in on me, okay?” She was getting louder. The couple at the next table glanced over.
“I’m not lecturing you. I’m telling you what I see because I love you and nobody else is going to say it. You’re using, Serenity. And the man you’re living with is feeding you drugs and tracking your location and you’re calling it romance.”
“He’s not feeding me anything. I make my own choices.”
“Then choose better.”
She stood up so fast the silverware rattled. Grabbed her purse, grabbed her phone—which was buzzing again—and looked at me with eyes that were wet and furious and high and heartbroken all at the same time.
“You know what, Mehar? Don’t call me until you’re ready to stop judging me. You’ve got your own shit to figure out.” She turned and walked out of the restaurant, weaving through tables with that too-fast stride people use when they’re trying not to cry in public.
I sat there in the booth by myself. The margarita sweated in its glass. The waiter came by and asked if I was ready to order and I told him I needed a minute, which was a lie because what I needed was about six months of peace and a world where the people I loved stopped destroying themselves.
I paid for the drinks and left.
In the car, I sat with my phone in my hand for a long time.
Serenity was spiraling and she couldn’t see it.
Mega had her so deep in his orbit that she’d defend him to the one person who actually understood what control looked like.
And the drugs were making it worse. They were clouding her judgment, dimming her instincts, turning the sharpest girl I knew into someone who confused surveillance with safety.
Her brothers needed to know. Prime was settled with Zainab and the twins. Justice was buried in the casino. And Quest—
Quest.
I opened my messages and found his name.
We’d exchanged numbers at some point but I’d never texted him first. Every interaction we’d had was him showing up in my space, him making the move, him initiating.
This would be the first time I reached out.
And I was doing it not because of the roller rink or the hallway or the way his cologne followed me into my dreams, but because his sister needed help and I was the only one who’d seen it up close.
Hey. It’s Mehar. Can we talk? It’s about Serenity.
I hit send before I could overthink it. Then I put the phone in my lap and stared at the steering wheel and waited.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
I’m free now. Call me.