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There are no cheers.
There are no celebrations.
This isn’t some stupid movie.
This is real life.
Every one of us here is part of the mafia in some way, shape, or form.
I’m sure some of us are meant to be killers. Meant to be muscle and enforcers.
Others are going to be used for their brains. To be smart enough to fuck around with money. Others are meant for the legal side of things.
So the idea of killing someone isn’t exactly easy to swallow down.
It’s definitely not easy for me.
I look through the small crowd just in time to see Archer turning and walking away.
He vanishes into the same spot he emerged from.
I hate to admit it but I’m not sure about him right now.
His desire to hurt me and kill me… I’m not sure how far he’d go.
I squeeze Birdie’s hand tighter.
I look at her.
Her eyes fill with tears.
She rips her hand from mine and takes off running.
Maz goes after her.
I look at Cullen.
He nods to me.
Go after her.
Birdie is sitting behind a statue of some man in a suit.
Curled up, crying.
Maz and I approach slowly.
It reminds me of the night we found her.
Maz and I crouch down.
“That was a lot to hear,” I whisper. “A lot to take in.”
Birdie looks at me. “I’m going to be responsible for the death of someone.”
“No, you’re not, Birdie,” Maz says. “That person killed themselves the moment they touched you. When you saidnoand they saidyesthey decided their own fate.”
“Listen to me,” Birdie says. “I ran… and I’m crying… because I’ve never felt this way before.”
