“Sarah seems to have had a parakeet,” said Kiko. Dom was unsurprised he was the first to speak. As if in confirmation, the distressed bird gave a screech. “We were trying to get it back in its cage.”
“Only the cage is broken,” said Dom, holding up the twisted bones of the cage he’d found behind the couch. Whoever had done this, he decided, they must really have hated birds.
Gordon let out a little huff and made his slow way across the room to the bird, whistling softly as he went. Dom watched, shocked, as he extended a forefinger and coaxed the parakeet onto it. The bird let him pet it with a finger.
“How—” began Dom, but Kiko was crossing to him.