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Angel was dead.
The news had shaken Birdie to her core and she found herself standing outside of Ezra's apartment, cold rain showering her. Cars drove behind her on the streets, splashing some water onto the pavement and nearly soaking the hem of her dress. She felt her heart pounding against her chest, trying to break her ribs and flesh, her skin and coat and free itself from her. Birdie had stood behind this very door many times but it wasn't until now when she realised the door wasn't maroon but scarlet coloured.
Angel was dead.
He was killed in Birmingham, far away from everyone and everything he loved. Out of her two brothers, Angel was Birdie's favourite. He was kind and always brought Birdie a souvenir from his trips. But now he was gone and Birdie had no idea what to do.
She hadn't knocked on the door yet. Maybe she was waiting for it to be opened by some magical force or by Ezra, whose door it was.
"Birdie?" A hand reached Birdie's shoulder.
Ezra was standing on the pavement, all wet from the rain. He had heard about Angel's death twenty minutes ago and had run straight to Birdie's, only to find out she wasn't there. Worry had taken over him by her absence — he knew how important Angel was to Birdie.
Ezra's voice was like a beautiful ballade, bringing comfort to Birdie. She turned to him and smiled but in three quick seconds, her smile faded away. Big tears began to escape her dark eyes and ran down her cheeks.
"Birdie..." Ezra sighed.
"Angel's dead," whispered Birdie, her lips trembling. "He's dead."
"I know," said Ezra. "I know."
It took Birdie approximately five to seven seconds to leap into Ezra's arms. She clinged to him like he was a lifeline keeping her afloat. As if holding him would somehow miraculously bring Angel back. He was the brother who accepted her as a sister before Luca did. Angel learned how to do her hair if their mother was unable to. Angel was the first one to wish her a happy birthday. He was her brother and her best friend.
Ezra let Birdie cry and sob. He let her miss her brother.
He didn't mind the rain or the cold with Birdie in his arms. Even as heartbroken, she was beautiful. Ever since meeting Birdie a year ago when coming to work for the Changretta family business, Ezra's been there for Birdie. He had fallen for her the second he heard her speak to Luca with such superiority.
Birdie was everything even when sad or angry. She was the sun to him.
She didn't know how she had gotten inside Ezra's apartment but there she was, sitting by a starting fire in a small fireplace. Her whole body was shivering when cold rain drops melted onto her skin by the fire. There was a cup of hot tea in her hands but she was too shocked, too tired to drink.
Ezra was talking, that much Birdie knew but she couldn't make sense of his comforting words. His words sounded like soft waves hitting a shore after a stormy night. Nothing made sense and every now and then Birdie would burst into more tears when thinking of her brother.
She wasn't a vengeful person — never has been — but has never felt such loss before either. While she didn't know too much about the circumstances of Angel's death, she knew he was killed by a gang member.
"I'm going to kill them," Birdie mumbled when the fog from her mind began to move away from her judgement, or the other way around.
Looking at Birdie, sweet sunny Birdie, Ezra couldn't tell if she was joking. If it was the grief that had made her say such a thing or was she seriously plotting a murder to avenge her brother's death. But she looked dead serious. Her big bright eyes were still full of grief and pain but there was a hint of anger there too, anger that could do horrible things.
"Birdie..." said Ezra, reaching for Birdie's cheek.
"They killed my brother, Ezra. Who knows who they're going to kill next?"
"Maybe they won't," Ezra said.
Birdie scoffed, shaking her head in the process. "They are gangsters. They kill. I can't have the only family I have ever known taken away from me. The Changrettas took me in when no one else would. If it wasn't for them, I would have rotted in the orphanage."
"I know that," admitted Ezra. He knew everything about Birdie's past — she had told everything to him. How the Changrettas had taken her in when she was shipped off to New York when she was only three years old. "But I'm sure Luca is already handling avenges."
"I know he is. I'm just...." Birdie sighed, letting new tears roll down her cheeks. "God I am so angry."
"Which is understandable and if you want to commit murder, I will drive the getaway car. I will lie for you and under these circumstances, I would kill for you too," Ezra swore, a soft smile tucking his lips.
Birdie nodded her head a little, trying to gather whatever courage she could muster. She wasn't going to kill anyone — no matter how much she wanted to. Revenge wasn't going to bring back Angel, nothing was going to bring him back.
"I don't think I will kill anyone. Just make their lives miserable," Birdie mused.
"How are you planning to do that?" Wondered Ezra.
"I don't know," shrugged Birdie. "But I am a Changretta. I can come up with something."
