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My stomach dropped. “Markie.”

“INTRUDER.”

“I’m not an intruder,” I hissed.

“ALEXA. CALL 911.”

“Markie.”

He puffed up. “INTRUDER. INTRUDER. INTRUDER.”

Motherfucker.

My phone buzzed in my pocket just as the device on Zoey’s kitchen counter lit up.

A calm voice came through the speaker. “911. What is your emergency?”

Markie puffed up and shouted toward the ceiling. “INTRUDER.”

I stepped toward the counter slowly. “Hello,” I said carefully. “There is no emergency.”

Markie screamed again. “INTRUDER. INTRUDER. INTRUDER.”

The operator paused for a moment. “Sir,” she said, still perfectly calm, “this device placed a call reporting a break-in.”

I rubbed a hand across my face. “Yes, that appears to be what happened.”

“Are you currently inside the residence?”

Markie leaned forward proudly. “INTRUDER.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I am.”

The pause on the other end lasted slightly longer this time.

“Sir,” the operator said, “officers are already on the way.”

Of course they were.

I rested my hand against the wall and closed my eyes for a moment.

You absolute fucking idiot.

Markie puffed his feathers. “INTRUDER.”

“Yes,” I said. “That part has been established.”

I could leave. I could walk out of the building and be halfway down the road before the cops arrived. But then it would look exactly like I had broken into Zoey’s apartment and tried to run.

She would never speak to me again.

Markie leaned forward and shouted proudly. “INTRUDER.”

20

ZOEY

By the time I reached my building, my feet had moved past irritation and into open hostility. Wearing heels had definitely been a mistake. Right now, they mostly made me feel like I was being punished for vanity.