“How did you?” My voice breaks.
Vice answers without looking up from the room.
“AirTag,” he says. “Prez had it tucked in the travel cage after the first time Rico took him.”
Disco flaps once, rattles the bars, then locks eyes on me and starts yelling like he’s filing a complaint with God.
“¡Mami! ¡Mami!” he screeches. “¡No!”
“My baby,” I choke.
“He’s good,” Magic says. “He’s good, niña.”
Diablo presses his mouth to my hair. When he speaks his voice is rough, like he’s forcing every word through clenched teeth.
“Look at me.”
I lift my face.
His eyes are black fire, and he’s trying so hard to keep it contained that it scares me more than if he screamed.
“Did he hurt you?” he asks, and each word sounds like broken glass.
I swallow hard. “He tied me up.”
His arms tighten. A tremor runs through him.
“He hit me,” I whisper.
Diablo’s gaze snaps past me toward Rico and his face goes dead again.
Six steps forward automatically, blocking Diablo’s line of sight like he knows exactly what happens when Diablo looks too long.
Vice’s voice cuts in, business-calm. “Ambulance?”
Diablo doesn’t answer right away. He keeps his eyes on mine like he’s making sure I’m real, like he’s counting breaths.
“You shouldn’t have been alone,” he says, low and furious. “You shouldn’t have been here.”
I laugh through tears, bitter.
“This is my home.”
His jaw flexes.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and the admission lands heavy because Diablo doesn’t say that out loud. “Because I’m your home.”
My adrenaline drains so fast I feel dizzy, like I’m falling off a cliff.
Diablo gathers me up, lifting me like I weigh nothing. I clutch his cut with shaking hands, fingers digging into leather like it’s the only solid thing left.
Rico groans from the floor, trying to turn his head, trying to be a problem even while bleeding out.
“She’ll leave you too,” Rico wheezes. “She always runs.”
Diablo doesn’t look at him.
His voice is pure threat.
