Disco makes a furious noise and flutters his wings, feathers bristling like he wants to bite.
Rico’s eyes track to the bird and his smile widens like he’s pleased I brought him a prize.
“Look at that,” he says. “You got him back. Guess your biker boyfriend really does fetch.”
My throat goes tight, rage and terror mixing so hot it tastes metallic.
“How did you get in here?” I ask. I don’t say I made them let you go.
Rico shrugs, lazy, like this is a joke between lovers. “You think I don’t know how to get into my own place?”
“It’s not your place,” I snap, and my voice shakes on the last word because my body remembers what happens when you challenge him.
His smile slips for half a second, and in that crack I see the real Rico. The one who can’t stand being told no. The one who needs control the way he needs oxygen.
Then the smile comes back wider and uglier, like he’s punishing me for making him show his face.
“It is when I say it is,” he murmurs.
My legs want to move and my feet feel glued. The keys dig into my palm so hard it hurts, and I cling to that pain because it’s a different kind of hurt.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, quieter, like lowering my voice will keep him from swinging.
Rico laughs, a short nasty sound that scrapes. “You shouldn’t have gone back there.”
His eyes flick over my face, my hair, the way I’m holding myself, and he looks satisfied like he caught me doing something shameful.
He stands slowly, savoring it, giving me time to panic. One step, then another, and my apartment suddenly feels tiny.
“You promised,” he says, and his voice turns sharp. “You promised you’d get me something.”
“I lied,” I say fast.
He tilts his head like he’s listening to a song he hates. “Did you?”
“Yes,” I say again.
He stops in front of me close enough that I can smell his breath, beer and pure spite.
“Then why am I still alive?” he asks softly, and the question is a knife twisting. He leans in, mouth near my ear, and my body goes rigid the way it always did when he wanted me to feel small.
“Because you didn’t do it,” he whispers. “You went running back to him and you cried and you played victim, and you made him feel sorry for you.”
“I didn’t,” I whisper, but my voice is thin and he knows it.
Rico pulls back and looks at my face like he’s reading a menu. “You did,” he says. “I can see it. You’ve got that look. The look you get when you think you found a different kind of monster.”
My stomach churns. Disco pecks lightly at my hair like he’s trying to ground me, and I hate that this bird is braver than I feel.
Rico’s hand shoots up fast and my breath catches hard.
“Give me the bird,” he says.
“No,” I snap, stepping back.
His eyes flash, and then he moves faster than my fear can react.
He grabs my wrist and yanks me forward so hard my shoulder pops with pain. Disco screeches, flapping, nails scraping my skin. I stumble, trying to keep him balanced, trying not to drop him.
