Ray said I was a natural. I told him naturals don’t practice four hours a day. He laughed. I didn’t.
I emptied another clip, pulled the target back, and admired my work. Tight grouping. All chest, all kill shots. I took a picture and sent it to Zainab.
She sent back a single emoji.
Then:Girl…
Then:Remind me to never make you mad.
I smiled. Put my phone away. Packed up my case.
I had somewhere to be.
The warehouse unitwas on the outskirts of Northeast. Industrial area. Nobody around. Prime was paying the rent on it monthly, no questions asked. He understood that some debts couldn’t be settled with money or mercy.
I unlocked the padlock and rolled the door up.
The smell hit me first. Piss and sweat and something sour underneath that I’d stopped trying to identify weeks ago. The single overhead bulb flickered on, casting everything in that sickly yellow light.
And there he was.
Thad. In his cage.
I’d had it custom built. Six by four, steel bars, just tall enough that he could sit up but not stand. Bolted to the concrete floor.A thin mattress on the bottom that I changed out once a week because I wasn’t an animal.
But my favorite addition was the water bottle. One of those big ones with the metal spout, mounted to the side of the cage the same way you’d mount one on a hamster cage. He had to press his mouth to the nozzle and suck to get water out.
Poetic, I thought.
He heard me come in and his head lifted. Three months in that cage and he barely looked human anymore. Beard grown out wild, hair matted, eyes sunken and hollow. His legs were useless, both knees still destroyed from the bat. He couldn’t stand even if I opened the door and invited him to try.
“Mehar.” His voice was gravel. “Mehar, please. Please, I’m begging you. Just let me go. I’ll disappear. I’ll leave the country. You’ll never see me again.”
I crouched down in front of the cage and pulled a Tupperware container from my bag. Leftover rotisserie chicken I’d picked apart with my fingers. Some rice. A few pieces of bread.
I pushed it through the slot at the bottom of the cage. The opening was just wide enough for a plate. He scrambled for it with his hands, stuffing food in his mouth before I could change my mind.
“You say the same thing every time,” I said. Calm. Almost bored.
“Because I mean it every time.” He was crying and chewing at the same time. Tears and chicken grease running down his chin. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. For everything. For Zahara. For you. For all of it. Just please. Please let me go.”
I watched him eat. Watched him grovel. Watched this man who used to walk into rooms like he owned them reduced to begging a woman he thought was disposable for scraps through a hole in a cage.
“Nah,” I said. “I’m not done yet.”
He broke down. Full sobs. Shaking the cage with his fists like it would do anything.
I stood up, brushed off my knees, and walked out.
Locked the padlock behind me. Got in my car. Sat there for a second.
I didn’t feel bad. I didn’t feel good either. I just felt… in control. For the first time in my life, I was the one with the power. And I wasn’t ready to give that up.
My phone buzzed.
A booking notification from my website.
Dame CoCo—Session RequestClient:TallDarkDC_42Service:Full submission, 2 hoursRate:$1,500
