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Summary
Tommy spun—
But he was too late.
A blade pressed lightly against the base of his wing joint again.
Not cutting.
Just stopping him completely.
Mercenary leaned in.
And this time, his voice dropped slightly lower.
“Nice try,” he said.
Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world:
“Doll.”
Tommy went still.
“…what did you just call me?”
Mercenary stepped back immediately, sheathing the blade.
“Doll,” he repeated, casual. “Doesn’t suit you?”
Tommy’s feathers bristled.
“I’m literally arresting you.”