For one second, the whole back lot goes quiet.
Then Magic mutters, “That bird’s got better instincts than half the club.”
Disco fluffs up like he understands he has just been promoted.
Despite everything, a laugh punches out of me. It hurts my ribs, my lip, and something deeper I don’t have time to name.
Disco screams again. “¡Diablo! ¡Pendejo!”
Diablo looks at Darling. “Your bird’s disrespectful.”
Darling wipes her face. “Our bird learned from you.”
I lean into her, just enough. “I missed that feathered little menace.”
“He missed you too,” she says, then glares at Shady over my shoulder. “Some people did.”
I don’t look back to see his face.
If I look, I might weaken.
Vice Ink swallows us in stained glass and smoke. The old church is a war room now. Men move everywhere. Crypt is on a laptop near the bar, tracing money with blood on his sleeve. Alpha stands at the altar table, screens open, a beautiful, cold face frozen on one monitor. Key Rat is pacing with three phones and talking so fast I only catch every third curse. Six stands by the front doors with a shotgun. Cosmo has a medical kit open and the expression of a man ready to pray or punch, whichever works faster.
Disco is perched on a rolling stand by the bar, feathers fluffed, crest up, black eyes wild. His new cage sits behind him, shiny and reinforced because apparently even birds in this family need upgraded security. He sees me and bobs hard.
“¡Lady! ¡Pretty! ¡No roses!”
My throat closes.
“Oh, baby,” I say, and cross to him before anyone can tell me not to.
Disco sidesteps on his perch, then leans his head toward me. I lift one shaking finger and scratch the soft feathers nearhis cheek. He makes a low, sweet sound, nothing like the demon screams from outside.
“Pretty Lady,” he says.
I smile, and it splits my lip again.
“Liar,” I whisper.
“¡Pendejo!”
“That one’s true.”
Shady makes a sound behind me. Almost a laugh. Almost pain.
I keep petting the bird.
I don’t turn around.
Darling stays glued to my side. Diablo stays close enough to catch her if her legs give, but not close enough to cage. Good. He’s learning. Men can learn. Slowly. Painfully. Usually after ruining things first, but sometimes they learn.
Cosmo steps toward me. “Need to check your wrists, niña.”
“No.”
His brows lift.
I point at the kit. “You can check them right here. In the open. With Darling beside me. Nobody moves me to a back room. Nobody puts hands on me without telling me first. Nobody says easy unless they want to lose teeth.”