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Orange beak.

Fuck.

Settingthe cage on the counter, I take off my shades, tucking them into the neck of my white designer tee, then I cross my arms.

It’ll probably be fine, right?

I’ve taken care of a little bird before.

“I’m not going to hold you to the sins of your father,” I decide—really magnanimously, I think. “Although, you should know he’s a giant dick. But so is mine. I mean, my father.” After a second. “Also my dick.”

The bird—Effie, Mama B called her—cocks her head to the side. “Gentle,” she coos. “Gentle, gentle.”

Oh.

Aww.

Sighing, I uncross my arms, reaching for the door clasp. “We don’t cage little birds around here. So you’re just going to have beha—ah, shit!”

The bird zips out of the cage and onto the counter, and the thing is, I’d been prepared for flying. But her little legs are fucking Usain Bolt levels of fast, and before my morning brain can catch up, she’s clear across the kitchen.

Fucking orange shenanigans.

“Hey!” I bark.

“Dirty bird,” she squawks, snatching a magnet off the fridge and flinging it to the floor. “Effie is a dirty bird. Suck my balls! Dumbass.”

Normally, hearing a bird cuss me out would be the best thing that could happen to me in a day, but she’s going fucking crazy. With a screech, she flings Sy’s breakfast plate onto the floor, shattering it to pieces.

“Dirty bird!”

Next, she zips to the other side of the counter, and I fling my hands out in alarm, because Vinny’s amassing a little collection of weapons by the toaster, and this fucking bird…

“Whoa!” I yell.

She’s got Vinny’s knife in her goddamn beak.

Her little head is too small to lift it, so she’s ducked low, barely able to waddle around with the weight of the blade. It was a gift from Nicky, so it’s understandably a little overboard.

This bird looks like she wants to stab me.

“Let’s just think about this,” I say, advancing on her slowly, cautiously, like a man trying to talk a crazy person down from a ledge. Effie’s got a shifty look about her, like she’s one frayed thread from snapping, and I think I might recognize that wild gleam in her eyes.

It’s not that she looks scared.

She just looks so fucking angry.

“You’re mad, right?” Of course she is. She was taken from her home and given to someone who gave her to someone else. If West End’s own little bird has taught me anything, it’s that it can be hard being shuffled around, lost, adrift in a strange place with strange people. “You miss home,” I’m guessing. Effie gives me a cagey look as I advance. “There’s no need for all the red, pretty bird. You’re gonna go home soon, I’m sure.”

But I stop in my tracks when I noticehim. He’s sitting between the railings of the loft, his yellow eyes narrowed in on her with all the focus of a stone-cold killer.

The Archduke.

“Everybody just stay chill.” Stepping between them, I throw out my hands and give Archie the eye. “I know you’re her natural predator, but she’s East End. We’ve already started one war on account of a little bird.” Archie has gone completely still, his eyes trained on the bird, who’s too focused on me to realize she’s become the prey. “Look, guys, Mama B and Verity will castrate me if the bird gets hurt.” I swallow. “And Archie, you know Vinny will never forgive me if anything happens to you. What we need here is a truce. We’re all mature, rational beings, aren’t we? Let’s get blue, guys.”

Effie bobs her head, the knife stabbing out. I hold my ground because even if I run, this little bitch canfly.

Over my head, Archie lets loose a long, spine-tingling hiss, and Effie’s head twists, the blade slashing as she moves.