As the youngest Shelby child and twin to Finn Shelby, Kezia has spent the last 4 of her 10 years locked away for her mental defectiveness.
She returns to Small Heath under the legal guardianship of her brother, Thomas Shelby. Despite knowing she's s...
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Not edited.
And to those invested in my other works, I recently updated my Aegon story, Aemond story, and Joker story.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Esme took all but one thing with her on the road.
A suit jacket the same shade as John's grays. Kizzie wore it the day of the funeral.
She sat with the family and their closest friends--Ozzy included--in the Birmingham kitchen. Tommy relocated them there the night before John went away.
She sat beside a barely okay Aunt Polly and quiet Ada. Behind her stood Finn, tall and stoic as he watched over his twin.
"John is dead," Tommy said, voice hoarse and cold. He arrived last. "Esme's gone on the road with the Lee's. She's taken the kids... Michael is badly wounded. They say it's sixty, fourty in his favor."
"There's no number," Aunt Polly told him. "There's no percentages. So the hand, the hand beneath him stops him from falling."
Kizzie kept quiet but looked at her aunt confused. What did that even mean? Lately, she said crazier things than Kizzie.
"Spoke to someone," her aunt told the room. She waved them away. "My son will live." Her hand gripped Kizzie's. Her aunt stifled a sob.
"Michael and John were shot because we killed someone," Tommy said. "Vincenzo Changretta. His son, Luca, has come to take revenge. Men from New York and Sicily here in Birmingham. These men will not leave our city until our whole family is dead." His sharp blues found Kizzie before looking away.
Her brother was scared. He could not protect John, what made him think he could protect the others? Told Kizzie so last night. She assumed he had been drinking--his speech was slurred. Refused to untangle his arms from hers. He could not lose her.
"That's how it works," he continued, "an eye for an eye. It's called vendetta."
"Yeah," Arthur grumbled opposite Kizzie. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a single bullet. He twisted it between his fingers. "The bullet's been written... It says 'Luca'. When the time comes...and it will come. Me as the oldest brother will put this bullet into his fucking head." He set the bullet down on the table. Kizzie stared at it. She could see the etchings of where her brother wrote the man's name.
Luca. She never heard that name before. Sounded Italian.
She looked away, unable to control the wave of sadness from taking her over again. That's how it was ever since seeing John. Not unlike when her father died. Grief was a phantom in the daylight, never afraid to ruin Kizzie.
Tommy shuffled. "There's been some bad blood between us--"
Kizzie jumped when her aunt began laughing, but it was somewhere between a chuckle and scoff.
"Polly, please," Arthur begged.
She managed to quiet herself and let go of Kizzie.
"Until this business is settled, we stay together... We stay here. Small Heath, Bordesley, Hay Hills down to Greet. We know every face, every man is a soldier in this army. These men are professionals, they're good at what they do so we're gonna need more than what we have... I sent a message to Aberama Gold."
"So this is the plan, Thomas?" Polly asked. "This is the plan? Bullet with a name on it, help from a bunch of savages."
Tommy wanted to argue. Was he stopping himself for Kizzie? Or because he knew their aunt was drunk?
"We're gonna go on the offensive," he said. "I spoke to Moss--"
Aunt Polly scoffed louder than before. "'Moss'." She then stood and paced behind Kizzie's chair, cigarette in one hand, a drink in the other.
"Moss is putting out word, eyes, and ears so we can find them... The truth is, the police are busy with the revolution. Moss says they're expecting riots and strikes when the weather gets warm and the Bolsheviks are planning to--"
"The Bosheviks couldn't plan a fucking picnic," Ada said.
What did having a picnic have to do with anything?
"He's reading the wrong papers," she continued.
"Ada. Real or not the coppers don't give a fuck about us, alright? Which means...that here today in this room we have to agree to end this war between us. Take a vote."
Arthur set the bullet closer to the center of the table with a furious smack. His reds vibrated off the walls. "Peace."
"I was never apart of this," Ada said. "But peace."
"Peace," Lizzie said.
Kizzie remained silent. She wasn't sure if she had a say.
"Peace," Uncle Charlie said.
"Peace," her twin said next.
Kizzie looked up at him with surprise.
"Shut up, Finn," Arthur grumbled.
"Why can't I say peace?"
"Arthur," Tommy said, "let him have his say." He looked at Kizzie's twin and urged him forward. "Finn? Take a seat at the table."
He took the seat opposite Kizzie.
The moment he sat, Arthur grabbed the back of his neck and collided their foreheads together. An intimate moment Kizzie had to look away from. She felt Tommy's eyes on her.
"Little bastard," Arthur whispered. "Sending his fucking kid, Seargent Major, to do men's work."
"My son's not here to speak," Aunt Polly reminded everyone. "So I'll speak on behalf of both of us... Truce."
"Peace," Ozzy said.
"Kizzie?"
She turned. "Hello."
"Tell us your vote," Arthur urged.
"But I--"
"You are part of this family," Tommy told her. His intensity made her shudder. "Your weight holds power."
Her aunt scoffed again. "So much power," she bit out, "that she can't visit her boyfriend without your clearance."
"Enough, Pol," Arthur told her.
Kizzie looked at her lap. Everyone's stare made her hot with unease. Did her vote matter? She knew that the majority would win. But she couldn't count. Whatever she said may be the breaker.
