Rico’s other hand grabs a fistful of my hair. My scalp burns and I gasp, head jerking back, vision blurring for a second.
“Stop,” I hiss. “Let go of me.”
He smiles in my face like he’s enjoying the sound of my breath turning shaky. “You really thought you could play bothsides,” he says. “You really thought you could go in there, spread your pretty little sob story, and come back here to your sad little life like nothing happened.”
“I didn’t want this,” I spit, and my voice cracks on want because my body refuses to stop remembering.
“You always want it,” he says, low and nasty. “You just want to pretend you don’t.”
He drags me into the living room toward the couch, my feet scraping on tile, my keys slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor like a dropped prayer. I try to twist away, but he yanks harder.
“Rico,” I say, forcing steadiness I don’t feel. “Listen to me.”
“I am listening,” he says. “I heard you failed.”
He shoves me down onto the couch so hard I bounce, the breath knocked out of me in a sharp gasp.
Disco flutters panicked.
Rico snatches him right off my shoulder with a cruel quick motion.
“No!” I lunge, but Rico jerks back, keeping the bird out of reach like he’s holding a trophy.
Disco screams, a high frantic sound that splits my heart clean in half.
“¡Suéltame!” Disco shrieks, furious and terrified, then throws in, “¡Cállate!” like he’s trying to cuss Rico out.
Rico’s grip is too tight around his little body, fingers pressing into feathers, and my whole world narrows to the sight of that tiny chest moving too fast.
“Stop,” I shout, scrambling up.
Rico’s eyes go cold.
He pulls something from his pocket and the plastic catches the light.
Zip ties.
My stomach drops like I just missed a step.
“No,” I whisper.
Rico smiles. “Yeah.”
He shoves Disco into the travel cage like the bird is an object, like he’s nothing but leverage. Disco flaps and rattles the bars, furious and terrified, his screaming turning into harsh angry chirps that make my eyes burn.
Then Rico grabs my arms like he’s done a thousand times.
I fight. Of course I fight.
I twist and kick and claw at his hands, nails scraping skin, my elbow driving into his ribs hard enough that he grunts. It doesn’t matter. He’s bigger, he’s angry, and anger makes people strong in the worst way.
He forces me down, straps biting into my skin as he cinches plastic tight.
Pain shoots up my arms and my fingers go numb fast. My ankles get bound. My breath turns ugly and sharp.
The room smells like fear now, mine and his and Miami’s, all tangled together.
Rico stands and walks around me like he’s inspecting his work. He picks up my phone from the coffee table and flips it in his hand, smirking like he won a prize.
