✧J✧

BEFORE

Not many people enjoyed Small Heath, they complained of the thick smoke, the bitter taste of pollution and the grime in the street. A city full of working men, only trying to make it day by day. Who’s biggest satisfaction was going to drown their sorrows away at their local pub. 

You disliked it too. But not for the smoke. Not for the dirt. Not even for the men.

You hated Small Heath because of one man. Your sin in a suit. The infamous Tommy Shelby — Thomas. 

The Brummie man you met in Edinburgh. The angel with blue eyes but a devilish smirk. A man you believed was good, until he showed you he wasn’t. Who still expected you to love him nevertheless. The man you couldn’t accept despite your heart’s wishes.   

Oh how Thomas had fooled you, how hard you fell for him. The dagger deep in your back as you left him, even though you promised him you’d stay — that you’d go home with him. 

Even though Tommy was a clever snake, hissing lie after lie. 

He made a promise to you. You made a promise to him. You ran in a circle right back to him, and now had you in his hand, where he always wanted you. 

Now that was something to be afraid of.

You wondered hard, when Eli spoke of him — whenever you heard his infamous name… Why didn’t you think of Thomas?

The man who bewitched you, who showed you what love could be in this cruel, dark world. How he carved your sorrows and trauma into something beautiful — something worth living for. 

Worst of all — how could an angel be the devil in disguise. 

Maybe you underestimated him. Normalised his possessive ways as a man’s ordinary temper. Or worse, maybe you desperately wanted to see him again. 

No. 

You moved on, quickly, in fact. You found Eli. Someone who could protect you, make you whole.

He was the first man who ever listened when you cried. Who didn’t tell you to calm down, or toughen up, or make yourself smaller. He just held you. Quietly.

One night, when your hands shook too much to light your cigarette, Eli took it from your fingers, lit it himself, and placed it between your lips without a word.

No questions. No judgments. Just a man who saw your shaking and didn’t look away.

That’s when you knew. Not that he would save you — but that he would never make you feel like you needed saving in the first place.

A man honest with what he desired and who he wanted to be. But that privilege had a high cost. Because after a blissful four months with Eli, he was back in your life. When you swore you would never see him again. 

You couldn’t help but to wonder. 

Was this a sign? Were the words Thomas told you true?Did he know you were coming back to him?Was he truly the Devil and came for your soul?

You shook your head, curled up in a ball on the bed as you jotted down your thoughts into your journal. With an empty stomach, you ignored its grumbles. Your pen tapped on the paper, words all jumbled in your head. But the ink only gave you a few words.

Was he waiting for you after all of this time?

The door suddenly flew open — your journal snapped shut. 

“Still in bed!” Eli gasped dramatically, dressed in a freshly pressed suit, a large bag in hand. A few curls resting over his forehead. 

“Where did you go?” you wondered, brows furrowed.

“Ah, I needed another suit. Get them on the house” he answered, dropping the bag to the ground. 

He approached you slowly, a widening grin on his lips. 

“You always get them on the house” you commented, with a soft sigh. 

“Correct. But I prefer how they’re tailored here. They work through sweat and blood. It screams home, doesn’t it?” he asked — but it roared as a statement. 

He tugged the cuffs neat, his fingers roaming over the fabric. 

“You look charming, my love” you smiled softly, relaxing in bed.

Eli smiled back, leant down to you and took your chin in his hand. A ghost of a kiss whispered over you. You surrendered yourself to his touch, your body slowly melting like a rosewood candle. 

“As do you, now hurry along. Tommy will be here in an hour” he whispered, straightening himself up and stepping to the ensuite.  

Your stomach twisted. The room tilts. Breathe. 

“Tommy?” you questioned, voice wobbling. 

“Yes, Tom” he called out, fixing up his hair in the mirror. 

“Why?” 

“He offered”

You sat silent on the bed, heart thumping in your chest. Was it his mission to torment you? Or witness first hand of Eli’s fury. To corrupt your happiness, your union with Eli. 

“Anyone else?” you worried, brushing your hands over your forehead in search of any sweat. 

“I don’t believe so” 

Alone with the two of them, one oblivious to the hell the other can rain over your engagement. It would be like walking on thin ice — any step could lead to your death. No… You couldn’t do it. The last thing you’d do is let Tommy hold the noose for you.

“Any other questions, eh?” Eli mused, leaning against the doorframe with a cocked brow. 

“None” you muttered.

He noticed the shift. The tone. The expression. The silence.

With his hands in his pockets, he stepped closer to you. 

“Look Eli, I’m still not feeling the best” you huffed, shifting your legs underneath the sheets. 

You couldn’t meet his eyes. His head tilted as he studied you. 

“Nonsense, you’re fine” he opposed, voice still booming, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

His hand rested close to yours. You kept your gaze to the side. 

“I’d much prefer to stay in today” you explained. 

Eli grabbed ahold of your hand, tugging your limb until you looked at him. 

“Darling— darling… It’s the races, you love em, we always win big don’t we?” he persuaded, crawling up, hovering over you. “You’ll be fine when we get there” he assured, his hand stroking your heated cheek. 

You nudged his hand away, turning your head to the side. 

“Is this about Tommy?” Eli asked. 

You denied it too fast. 

“He say something to you — the other night?” he wondered, brows scrunched as the memories were a fog of whiskey and laughter.

You swallowed. 

“No”

The first of many lies you’d tell Eli. 

Eli clocked it, questions filled his mind. He sat back, hands pressed against his thighs. Eyes on you, but distant now.

“You know” he said slowly, tone shifting. “He acts like the devil, but he’s just a man. Smokes like it’s oxygen. Drinks alone. Thinks that silence gives power” Eli spoke calmly, softer. 

But his words were implying something else, confirmed with the sternness in his eyes. 

You said nothing, only stared into his green eyes. 

Eli smirked like a joke was spilled. 

“You’re scared of him” Eli figured. 

You couldn’t answer. 

Because it was true, you were scared of what Tommy could do. But Eli wouldn’t understand, unless he knew. And if he knew… Well, you already know what could happen.

“Tommy Shelby is like every other man in this game, act dangerous — get respect” Eli pointed his finger at you. “We’re not blood, but I know what he is. Wear a coat, say a few clever threats, walk like the ground turns to flames behind you. Then you’ve got a great little show”

Eli was so confident, so sure he knew Tommy inside out. But Tommy had clearly never said a word about you. Not to him. Unless it was a drunken slur — a whisper between smoke and pills. Yet never enough detail to connect you back. 

Did Tommy ever speak of you to anyone? 

Or was he how Eli described — silent and alone. 

It should be a relief that Tommy told no one. So why was your stomach aching? Your chest tight and hands trembling beneath the sheets? Why did his silence feel like a threat?

“It’s all paper. Light a match and it burns” Eli clicked his fingers like the spark of light itself. 

A gentle nod from you. 

“But you’re not paper darling” Eli whispered — voice smooth and soft — hovering over you again. “Don’t let him get in your head. He eases up once he trusts you — And you?” a confident grin formed. “You’ve got nothing to hide” 

A wink. A kiss to your lips. Like sealing a lie with a fabulous bow.

And that’s when you felt it in your chest — the slightest crack. Invisible to the naked eye, heard by no one. But you felt it. You knew what it was. 

You closed your eyes — let him believe it. Better yet, let yourself believe it.

But how much more could you take? How many more days could you keep lying to Eli’s face, pretending you were a woman without a past?

But you couldn’t give him the truth, either.

You couldn’t hand him the knife.

So — you crawled out of bed. Took a quick, warm bath. Got dressed with steady hands. Put on that seductive smile that made Eli’s heart sing. 

And all the while, you reminded yourself…

Tommy could crush you in his palm — whenever he pleased.

So you kissed Eli, deeply, like you were about to take your last breath. Eli hummed, his hands squeezing your waist. You both allowed the moment to simmer – eyes locked as one. 

His eyes were innocent, pure — while yours was almost dripping with guilt. 

“I love you Eli” you whispered — secretly proving yourself to be his. 

“And I love you, my sweet girl” Eli mused, his hands exploring your body like the paradise you were. 

The sun rarely visited Small Heath, and today it seemed to shrink away—not behind clouds, but from him.

The gravel crunched beneath your heels as you stepped out of the hotel, arm tucked in Eli’s. You spotted the car before anything else — polished black, idle and waiting like a beast trained too well. Each step tightened something in your chest. You didn’t need to see his face. You could feel him inside it. Waiting.

His features were shadowed beneath his cap in the grimy window of the Bentley. His icy blue eyes caught your attention — they were like sharpened blades, cold and unreadable. The cigarette hanging from his lips wasn’t lit, but it wasn’t meant to be. It was a token of silence, waiting to be burnt alive.

Eli opened the back door with a practiced smile, an invitation to a life you once belonged to and now feared. His polished hand motioned grandly for you to enter, the soft scrape of your shoes against the cement punctuating the quiet tension. The door shut behind you—a gunshot of finality.

Eli adjusted his cufflinks, then glanced at Tommy in the front seat. Tommy’s posture was stiff — rigid control, like a king surveying his kingdom. And in that silence, he held power you both arrogantly ignored.

“Tom, how are we, aye?” Eli’s voice tried to slice through the thick air, pulling a cigarette from his pocket like it was a lifeline.

Tommy’s response was a low rumble, measured and cold. “Good, Eli. Good” 

His own lighter appeared out of nowhere. Cautiously, you watched his cigarette come to light, expecting a big band to follow. But… nothing. Then, without another word, the Bentley surged forward, swallowing the distance with a speed that spoke of impatience — or something worse.

Tommy’s gaze caught yours in the rearview mirror — a predator’s focus masked by an almost innocent smile. “Hello, darling”

You forced the name out, like venom on your tongue. “Tommy”

His eyes softened just enough to unsettle you. “Still looking a little pale”

You swallowed the rush of old fears. Anxiously fixing your cream hat and pulling the end of your dress like it was too short. 

“She’s fine, Tom” Eli, ever the savior, cut in. “Champagne’ll sort her out. Then the party can really begin” he mused. 

They spoke business — Eli’s voice brimming with ambition, polishing the glittering surface of his political dreams. Tommy’s occasional interjections were sharp and precise, but it was clear you were an afterthought, a shadow tucked into the background.

Occasionally, Eli’s eyes flicked back to you, scanning, weighing, protective. You smiled at him, the smile you used to keep the peace, to hide the fractures behind you.

But every time your gaze wandered, it found the rearview mirror — and Tommy’s eyes burning into you, relentless and cold.

“So, your horse — she ready for today?” Eli’s question broke through your spiraling thoughts.

“Of course, Eli. I only settle for the best” Tommy replied smoothly, voice a soft challenge.

“How much should I place on her then?”

“All of it” Tommy said, locking eyes with you again, the words like an order.

The setting buzzed around you — the roar of engines, drunken cheers, and pounding hooves over earth with the flutter of white tents under a reluctant sun. The derby was no different than the last — but sticking out like a thorn in your back. 

Eli opened your door, offering a hand with the polished grace of a man who thrived on appearances. Who secretly wanted everyone to watch. His lips brushed over your cheek as he led you towards the entrance. 

Tommy strided two feet ahead of you. It went unphased by Eli as the crowds drew closer to you like magnets. Your mouth turned dry, you desperately needed a drink. 

“I’ll see you around” Tommy said, his hand straightening his peaked cap. Eli cocked a brow towards his friend. “Have to check on my horse” he continued, hands deep in pockets, fading into the crowd like smoke escaping a trap. 

Eli farewelled him, his eyes searching for a drink, and an audience. Your eyes lingered in his direction, trying to spot him in the swamp. But Eli gently tugged on your wrist, leading you in the opposition direction. 

After you picked up your first glass of champagne, Eli’s first admirer approached him. It was common, you were used to it. The inescapable attention he drew in. Eli shook the older gentleman’s hand, their words went muffled as you quickly downed as much champagne whilst still trying to look modest. 

Soon, a small crowd had formed — Eli was talking politics, yet again. His voice thick with pride, certainty, determination. His hand was tight on your hip, your lips were always close to the rim of your glass. 

Everyone was agreeing with him, nodding their heads and letting that contagious expression paint their faces. It was always coal to the furnace. Eli laughed, downing his hand. Then — cautiously looking down to you. 

“Come on love, should probably go see the bookmaker before the gun fires” Eli winked, guiding you away from the gathering of discussion and debate. 

You lined up with Eli, your eyes studying over the chalkboard. Scanning through the horse names, jockeys and odds. You barely read the name before it lodged itself in your chest — Her Shadow Walks.

The list of runners was a page of secrets written in bold ink. You blinked at the name, a ghost pulling you back.

“Which horse is Tommy’s, my love?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper, though you already knew.

“Her Shadow Walks” Eli confirmed, pride threading his words.

The name echoed like a scream only you could hear. Your legs stiffened, like they'd remembered the stage where it all unfolded. Eli's voice faded to a murmur. All you could hear was your own pulse — and the distant thunder of gallops that suddenly felt like war drums.

“Are you alright, my love?” Eli’s hand lifted gently to your chin, the gesture tender but heavy with unspoken worry.

You pulled away softly. “I just need some air”

“You’ll be okay alone?” His eyes searched yours for reassurance.

“Of course. I won’t be long” you promised with a peck. 

You drifted away from the clamour, the bets, the men whose eyes lingered too long, too openly. Like you were roast meat on the kitchen table. 

The air didn’t help much. You found a quieter space, with a decent view of the current runners. You tried to focus your attention on the horses, but thoughts fought against it. People hurried past you, their steps staggering already. 

Tommy had appeared, the shadow you couldn’t outrun. Slowly, he approached you like smoke, a smug smirk creeping on his lips. His steps turned dramatic, taking large slow strides in front of you with his hands in his pockets. 

“So… How are you enjoying Birmingham?” His voice was soft, but there was no interest behind it.

You stayed silent, the unspoken history curling thick between you. The painting from Edinburgh played in your mind. 

“Your horse’s name…” you began, but the words caught in your throat, so you left it hanging.

“I got her right after you left me. It felt fitting... You’ll understand when you see her” he answered. 

He watched your face carefully, searching for a crack. You swallowed hard, refusing to be baited. Tommy sighed, sliding out a cigarette and holding it out towards you. 

You tried not to smoke much. But the recent events left the substance too tempting for your wobbling lips. Trapping it between your lips, Tommy lit his lighter, holding the flame close to you. You took a heavy drag. 

“He take you to the art gallery yet?” Tommy hummed, lighting his own. 

You glared at him.

“No”

“Really? Would’ve been the first place I took you”

You said his name — sharp and warning, the edge clear in your voice.

“Yes?” he responded, a mock innocence in his tone.

“You can’t do that” the words were low but fierce.

“Do what?” His voice was smooth, but the danger simmered beneath. The line he kept tiptoeing over. 

“Treat me like a whore, then act like he’s not good enough” You let the words fly like stones, your gaze burning.

His smile turned downwards. “Whores can still go to art galleries, darling” his voice was almost emotionless, leaving you unsure whether it was a joke or a threat.

You huffed out, taking another drag. 

“Will you tell him?” you asked, voice steady but dripping with accusation.

“Tell him what?” He leaned in, eyes narrowing, testing.

“About us” your words were a challenge, a spark in the dark.

A beat long enough for his smirk to deepen, eyes flickering towards the crowd. He stepped closer. You inched back. 

“Why would I do that? It’d break his heart” His tone toyed with you, dark and dangerous.

“Enough” you cut through the tension, trying to reclaim your strength. You turned your gaze onto the horses, dropping your cigarette to the ground, letting it burn itself out. 

“It’s a difficult position for all of us” he shrugged lightly, as if your pain was just a complication.

“I fail to see your struggles” you stared him down.

You wouldn’t allow him to see you weak, watch you beg for his mercy. Fear his possibilities. 

“You see, Eli can be very jealous — especially of me” he smirked, voice low and threatening. “Not sure how he’d react. So maybe if he focuses on our business, he won’t notice the connection between us” he mused, his fingers brushing over yours.

You pulled your hand away.

“How?” You raised an eyebrow, cautious.

“Simple ways, darling. Like not letting him cancel on me”

“I didn’t ask him to” you argued. 

“But he did anyway. You gotta get better. We’re entering difficult times. Can’t afford distractions on his behalf”

“Done.” You agreed, voice drained of emotion.

Tommy hummed, looking you up and down. Admiring how the fabric hugged your hips, showed off your figure just enough to get his mind wondering if you still look the same underneath. 

“He used to share women with me” Tommy said, simply and cutting. “Sometimes at the same time”

Your stomach clenched. “You told me he was jealous. That contradicts”

“That’s friendship, in our world” he chuckled. “Women are like coins. No different from the next” his words were dismissive, cruelly casual.

“I’m not a coin, Tommy. And I’m not to be flipped” you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest.

He closed in on you. You stepped back, but found your back pressed against the railing.  Completely trapped in. Your heart thumped in your chest as his eyes dragged over you, he took a deep puff. 

“Mhm. You’re not a coin — you’re the whole fookin’ bank now, aren’t you?” His grin was sly, confident.

You tried to read him, but he was still the same man from Edinburgh — indecipherable. His eyes were dark beneath his cap. His fingers brushed over the curve of your hips, you gasped silently, eyes narrowed. 

“What do you want from me?”

“What’s best for business. Nothing more” his gaze was cold steel — voice almost a deadly whisper, his hands retreated like he touched fire.

“I’ll steer clear of your dirty work” you spat. 

Tommy chuckled, taking a step back, gently shaking his head. 

“You forget whose hands came from the mud” he warned, voice dropping. “What hasn’t he told you? You’re guarding your secrets, but you never even asked about his. I’ll put it this way — he’s not as golden as his smile. So get rid of that sour look around me. He’s no better than me, aye?” Tommy huffed. 

“I trust him” your voice wavered but held firm.

“You don’t get it. I’m not pretending to be a good man, I never did” 

A beat. 

“He is” he stated — cold and stern. 

You stood there silent, brushing away at his lies. Tommy tsked at you. 

“You didn’t grow up the way we did. Daddy gave you whatever you wanted—”

“Do not speak of my father” your voice snapped, steel replacing any sign of weakness.

Tommy laughed. 

“Scared of what he’d think of you? No worse than what your mother thinks already” he pressed, his words were cruel, intended to hurt.

You didn’t flinch. You smiled instead. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

He said nothing. But the answer was yes.

You could stay and dance with the devil, or leave before the song ends. 

You stepped closer, not backing down. “I’m not playing your game, Thomas. If you’re going to tell him, do it. But don’t drag me through the mud with you” you threatened – gaze sharp as a knife. 

Tommy took a second to read you, his head tilted, Nodding once, like a deal had just been made.

“Relax, darling” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you the way you hurt me” his voice was calm but laced with jeopardy. 

You left without another word. 

But — he followed. A shadow you could feel, even with the loud crowds. 

He was tailing behind you, maybe to tease you, to scare you. Or… Because he still wanted to see how much control he still had over you. 

You found Eli in the tent, a new crowd surrounding him — his stance staggering, cheeks red from the champagne. Eli’s arm wrapped around you, a heavy kiss smooched your cheek. Tommy’s eyes stayed on you, a drink in his iron grip. 

Eli laughed, his brows scrunched. 

“Now Tom… Why do you have to look at her like that?” he asked — voice almost slurring, scent strong of liquor. 

“Like what?” Tommy frowned. 

“Like you’ve seen her naked” Eli joked, looking down at you — eyes glossy and jokes stepping over the boundary. 

You gulped, not daring to look towards either of them. Tommy laughed it off and finished his drink in one gulp. You kept your eyes forward, but his stare clung to you like silk — soft, suffocating, impossible to shake. He didn’t shadow you. He didn’t have to. You already felt the pull.

AFTER

Every morning for the past two weeks, you slept in late — often until the cooks began to prepare lunch. No one dared to wake you, though through the crack of the door, blurred vision and drowsy mind you could sense their peering eyes.

There was an invisible weight pressing down on you. You’d lie there for hours, trapped in your head, sifting through the wreckage of a silent bombing — searching for pieces that might still hold value.

But there was never anything worth salvaging.

Your desire to know the truth had burned out. After the last wick had been snuffed, you stayed in the shadows, afraid of the ugly reality. Tired of the pain. Sick of the blanks. Nauseous of the sins you’d committed.

The longer you waited for Tommy to speak, the more you feared the answers.

The higher the guilt filled. 

The thicker the disgust grew. 

And he did stay away, for the most part — giving you space, as if you were a stray cat he’d taken in. Letting you wander and hide, hoping your desperation for comfort would lead you back to him. Making you believe it was your choice all along.

Three raps on the door.

“Mrs Shelby?” A voice — soft, female, filtered through. You blinked, trying to place it. Nothing came.

“Come in” you called, sitting up in bed.

Ruth stepped inside. Her eyes were full of pity, that same look everyone wore. It made your blood run cold.

The eggshells they walked on. The careful words. The goosebumps on their skin. As if you were something broken. Diseased. Dangerous. You feared it would drive you insane.

But given Tommy’s legacy of ruthless acts, the last thing you wanted was to add another name to the list.

She approached your bedside table and placed down a fresh cup of tea. Followed by the two pills you were urged to take every morning. You inhaled the soft, floral steam. Tongue turned dry as your appetite awoke.

“It’s getting late” Ruth said gently, turning to the curtain and allowing the sun to warm your skin. “Mr Shelby suggested you might take Charlie out — perhaps to the stables?” she added, hope in her soft tone.

You said nothing.

Every day had become a cycle: eat, rest, spend time with Charlie, then sleep again. Most of your time was spent drifting in thought — the same thoughts, repeating like a cracked record. You barely spoke to anyone. And when you did, it was only to Tommy.

“I don’t feel well today, Ruth” you replied, hesitating over her name. That was her name, wasn’t it?

“Drink your tea. It’ll help” she encouraged, her voice warm.

“Is he here?” you asked, already feeling the chill that came with that name.

“Yes. In his office”

“And Charlie?”

“With Mary” she answered quickly, folding her hands behind her back.

The smile she wore was genuine. Too genuine. It wasn’t about job security or pay. There was something else buried beneath it — something locked away with no key. It was water to your seed of probing.  

Ruth was always more emotional with you, as if it wasn’t because Tommy was in her ear, but because she owed it to you. Her view of you wasn't as a boss, but something more authentic, something stronger in bond. 

Silence fell between you. She nodded politely and turned toward the door.

“Ruth?” you called.

She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Yes, Mrs Shelby?”

You stared at her. Your bones felt as though they were rattling beneath your skin. You didn’t know if you wanted the answer. But knew your tongue craved the question. 

“What… was I like?”

The room held its breath.

“You were…” she paused, trying to remember the lines, but her mind turned blank. “Kind, thoughtful, sincere” she slowly answered. 

You processed her words through slow blinks. 

“You still are those things,” Ruth added gently. “You just need time to heal — your body, your mind… your soul. Give it time”

You nodded faintly, though the answer sat heavy in your chest.

“Were we friends?” you asked, more fragile than you meant to sound.

Ruth froze.

Her hand lingered on the doorknob, jaw clenched ever so slightly. You noticed the shift — something flickered in her eyes, a shadow of recognition, of memory. It passed quickly, too quickly. 

“No” she said softly, almost rehearsed. “We never spoke much” her words trailed. 

Her voice was careful. Not cold — just… deliberate. Like a line she’d been told not to cross. As if there were ears in these walls. 

You stared at her, heart tightening at the subtle change in her tone. You could feel the lie pressed between you like a fog. Before your eyes but impossible to grab ahold of. 

“I must go” she added quickly, breaking eye contact. “But please — it’s a beautiful day. Go and enjoy the sun, Mrs Shelby” Ruth urged, a hint of desperation and fear in her tone. 

She left before you could say another word, the door closing with a faint click that sounded more like a warning than a farewell.

You sat still, staring at the space where she’d stood, the bitter taste of something unsaid lingering in your throat. A series of questions running through your mind.

Looking over to the tea and medicine, you blinked — then chose to ignore it. 

You rose slowly from the bed, muscles stiff and protesting. The soft light of the morning danced over your skin, warm but uninviting. In silence, you moved to the dresser and pulled over a simple dress— the easiest to wear, the least inviting that hung up in your wardrobe. Your fingers hesitated briefly on the clasp of a necklace before you let it fall back into the drawer.

Right hand traced over your ring finger, urging you to pull off the bands, but too afraid of the effect.

You stared at yourself in the mirror — Mrs Shelby. 

Your identity stripped of you, your persona morphed into what has pleased him. 

You were sick of this, of this routine. Tired of doing nothing, wasting your days away. You needed a glimpse of your old life, before you met Eli, before you met Thomas. Before you signed your life away to someone else. 

You brushed your hair with slow, methodical strokes, the mirror reflecting a face still shadowed with fatigue and quiet resignation. Without a second thought, you slipped on your shoes and made your way down the hall.

The house was calm, the usual sounds of footsteps and whispered voices muted in the late-morning stillness. Your steps were steady, purposeful but without urgency, as you approached Thomas’ office. You paused briefly outside the door, then pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Thomas” you said, your voice clear but cautious.

He was on the phone — voice low, calm — placing commands. But the moment he heard you, he turned his head. His words clipped short. The papers on his desk were flipped face down in one swift, almost impatient motion—as if it was without second thought.

“Yes… we’ll speak later” he muttered into the receiver, and hung up without another word.

His eyes were on you, something unreadable flickering behind them. Not surprised. Not even concerned. Just attention — sharpened, total, reactive.

“There you are” he said quietly, stepping from behind the desk. “You slept through breakfast again. I was wondering when you’d visit me” he gave a soft grin, something not to tease you, but to reassure you. 

You opened your mouth to explain, to excuse it somehow, but he shook his head gently.

“It’s alright” he added before you could speak. “No one’s rushing you” he assured, as if you were overwhelmed. 

His smile was slow, practiced, like a snake inviting you closer. Hands on his lean waist as stared up and down. He stepped closer, slow and steady — not to corner you, but to close the distance like a man walking toward a fragile thing he didn’t want to break.

You cleared your throat. 

“I’d like to see my siblings” you said. The words came out firmer than you expected, but still carried the edge of weariness.

Tommy’s expression didn’t shift much — like he’s expected this — there was a pause, a flicker of something softer in his brow.

He stood before you.

“You’re sure?” he asked gently. “It’s a lot, love. Seeing them — the memories, the expectations. I just want to make sure it doesn’t undo all the strength you’ve been building back”

“Today” you ignored his concerns. His brows drew together in a faint, studied frown.

There was a pause. Barely a second. But you saw the flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

“We shouldn’t jump the gun” he spoke softly, as if the words weren’t daggers to you.

You snapped — a whip of emotion deeply contained cracked in the room.

“Do you think I’m so fucking fragile that I can’t handle my own family?”

There it was. The tantrum. You finally let go of every emotion bottled up inside. A heavy sigh acted as surrender from him.

“I’m just making sure darling” he promised, voice soft, almost coaxing, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Do you think I’d ask if I wasn’t? Do you think I enjoy rotting in here like some kept thing? I’m not a ghost, Thomas!”

Tommy stood silent, hands behind his back. As if he’s waited for this, only blinking his emotionless eyes as he allowed your anger to fester. 

“You treat me like I’m made of glass” you snapped, voice tight. “You talk about healing and resting like I’m just some broken thing you need to fix. I want my life back, not your schedule. I want to feel something real again” you demanded, your fingers jabbing onto his chest. 

He took it all — expression controlled, mind patient, body restrained. 

“I want out of this house, Tommy. I want to see people who know me—not maids whispering in hallways and doctors who treat me like I’ve already died!”

Your hands shoved him back, he stumbled only by a step, body made of stone. You let your anger heave out, your chest rose and fell. Tommy inched closer to you, stilling for a moment. His hand reached out, rough fingertips brushed over your flustered cheek. 

“I understand, you have every right to be angry with me” he admitted, lowering his voice to a near whisper, his breath warm against your cheek.

You were speechless, your voice croaked. Desperate to continue, but no fuel to run off. 

“I’m just trying to be careful, please believe me. It’s a serious injury, so many small things can trigger anything” he explained, tucking your loose hair behind your ears. “I just need to know you’re safe, I can’t stand seeing you in such distraught. I need to know you’ll be okay” he continued, voice of silk — intentions like smoke.

A pause stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts. His hands tested the waters as he gently squeezed your hips. “They can’t come today, it’s too late. But I’ll call them today, see when they’re free. Have my men bring them here—no trains, no crowds, straight to you” His eyes glinted, sharp and calculating beneath the softness.

It wasn’t what you wanted, but it was more than Tommy was used to giving. As if to reward your obedience, he purred by your ear.

“Thank you” you said quietly, swallowing a rising knot in your throat.

He leaned back, raising his free hand to your cheek, brushing the back of his fingers over your skin. “You’re looking better” he murmured, voice almost tender. “Your skin’s got a bit of glow back. See? You’re healing”

You looked away, the emptiness in your chest still thick. “I don’t feel like it” you argued, stepping away from him. 

“One step at a time, love” he whispered, voice dripping in honey controlled tone. “Sleep well?”

“The same” you muttered.

He moved closer again, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “How about tonight – I will stay with you until you fall asleep. Maybe some company will help your mind find what it’s lost… Maybe you’ll remember us” His gaze was heavy, hypnotic.

You hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of his control. “I don’t know”

“Just until you’re fast asleep. Calm. Peaceful” his arms crossed over his chest, voice softening to a dangerous lullaby. “Think about it, darling”

“Yep” You nodded, trying to steady yourself.

“When you’re sleeping better. I can talk to you. About what happened” he promised. 

So you could sleep worse again?

“I don’t care” the words were flat but resolute.

He sighed, an exasperated sound meant to disarm you. “You haven’t taken your medicine”

“I don’t like how it makes me feel” your voice cracked, despite trying to be brave.

“I know, it’s only for the meantime” he softened, reaching out to brush your hair back from your face, but the touch was possessive, chilling. Your breathing turned stiffer. “Darling, breathe” his tone dropped, nearly commanding. “You’re overwhelmed. You’re confusing yourself again. You just need to trust me”

His arms pulled you into a protective embrace.                                                                 

You tried to speak, but he hushed you, finger pressed gently to your lips. “Shh… breathe” he coached, voice as smooth and cold as ice. You followed his instructions. “That’s my good girl” he smiled. 

“My head hurts” you whispered.

Your eyes squinted at the pain that radiated from your skull. 

“Again?” His jaw tightened. “I’ll call Pol. Maybe she has something better than this hospital bullshit” he suggested, hold still tight over you. 

Your brows knitted together. The name was unfamiliar to your thoughts. 

“Pol?” 

“My aunt, Polly. You still don’t remember her eh? Maybe after we see your sisters and brother I can invite the rest of our family over. Arthur and John keep on calling about you” Tommy made known, a sense of pride in his tone.

“Yeah, maybe” you mumbled, looking away. “Is Polly a doctor or something?” 

“Mhm no, but she knows her way around Gypsy treatments” he mused. 

Tommy had little faith in western medicines. He often believed a lot of evils in the world were due to curses and paying your debts. Of course, he’d have to find exceptions in moments of time running out. But the world was full of spirits, magic and unfinished reckonings. 

Pol knew her way around, she could read you like an open book. She knew Tommy’s heart belonged to you, that he would do anything for you. Polly knew more than most when it came to souls, she’d have something that could relieve you from your internal pain. 

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat” he ordered, voice dipped in sugar. His smile was sharp when it returned. 

You obediently followed, allowing him to lead you to the dining room. 

“Then you can take Charlie to the stables. Richard will take him for a ride” his tone was light, but it carried the weight of command. “The sun will do you good” he finished, confidently. 

Tommy stayed with you in the dining hall until your meal was prepared — mind you, as quickly as possible. His watchful eyes ensured you swallowed your medicine whole. Followed by a promise that he’ll find something better for you.

“Let me call your family, eh?” He smiled, pressing his cold lips to your temple — an ownership claim disguised as affection. 

Tommy headed to the exit, his footsteps deliberate and heavy. He paused by the opening. “Let’s try to finish that plate today, alright?” Tommy put forth, eyes getting a glimpse over your slimming figure. 

You looked down to your plate covered with protein and carbs. There wasn’t much, but it felt like a lot. Slowly nodding your head towards him, he nodded back and left. 

After, you were welcomed by Charlie, holding his arms out to you as Tommy held him on his hip. You took Charlie, a wild smile on his small lips as you bounced him. Tommy exhaled, picking up his briefcase, his jacket hanging over the bag.

“I’ll be back later my love, I’m needed at the factory” Tommy mentioned. “Enjoy your day, I’ll try my best to be home by Charlie’s bedtime” he sighed, rubbing Charlie’s head. “And think about my offer for your bedtime” he winked, his lips marking your forehead. 

As the front door creaked shut, you looked down to Charlie, a contagious smile growing on your lips. Unavoidable whenever you were in his presence. 

“Come on Charlie, let’s take you for a ride” you hummed, leading him to the back entrance of the house. 

The midday air of Arrow House was thick with warmth. The sun casted over you both as you walked the familiar route to the stables. The bees hummed over the green grass, the floral scents reaching your nostrils. Charlie kept his hands clenched onto your dress. 

Going to the stables was one of the only escapes from Arrow House. A quiet, steady place in the world that sets your mind free — even though it was only a short while. It was one of the rare things you and Tommy shared without question — your love for horses. 

You grew up with them, there was always one by your side as you shifted through the years of childhood. A companion who would listen, whose company eased your troubled thoughts, someone who never asked for much. 

Sometimes, when the wind breezed and the scent of hay hit just right, a memory would flicker — your father behind you, steadying your small hands on the reins, his voice low and warm in your ear. The image came like a ghost, compelling to the eye, impossible to hold onto.

“Mrs Shelby” Richard chimed, on his knees as he brushed down one of Tommy’s stallions’ legs. “How are you?” he asked, standing up on his feet and brushing off the hay and dust. The older man gave you a sweet smile, but again, you felt something behind his eyes. 

“I’m good, yourself?” you forced your smile, the lie over yourself. 

You wandered deeper into the stables, placing Charlie down onto his tiny feet as he cheered before the beautiful beasts before him. The space brimmed with warmth, a heavy scent of hay, earth and leather.  

Three grand horses filled the stables, their movements still but aware, ears flickering around and hips swaying. Richard kneeled by Charlie, gently rubbing his head. 

“Which one do you wanna ride today buddy?” Richard asked. 

Charlie spoke gibberish, pointing his finger in every direction. 

Tommy’s broad, black stallion, Salem. The bay roan beauty, Seraphine — Tommy’s gift on your wedding day. A token of your union. A creature of grace and fire. Too beautiful to race. Too rare to let go. And lastly, the only horse you have a true memory of — a deeper connection to — whether you wanted it or not. 

Her Shadow Walks. 

The majestic blue roan stallion, who was a masterpiece to watch over the field. Not for the odds. But her beauty. 

She stood quietly in her stall, her coat sleek and freshly groomed. Her body healed but her spirit was never the same. Her Shadow Walks moved with the grace of a dancer, but the fire had blown out long ago. 

You don’t remember the injury, an unexpected tendon tear. But perhaps that was better. You’d hate to remember the pain she endured, the confusion and fear clouding her mind, trying to comfort her, telling her it would be okay. 

Of course, she recovered. But she would never be as fast as before. Tommy thought it was best to keep her here — safe, protected, at peace. He moved onto the next race horse, but still cherished her as his grand prize. 

She neighed softly as you rubbed her broad neck. A gentle smile rested on your lips as you murmured sweet words to her. 

You wandered the length of the stables as Richard straddled Salem, with Charlie secured in front of him, his little hand grabbing onto the saddle horn. The scent of hay and horse musk hung. 

Your hand brushed Seraphine’s mixed coat – warm bay roan beneath your fingertips. The quietness soothed your mind, you found yourself humming gently. A tune you didn’t remember, but must have known somewhere. 

You slowly drifted towards the fenceline. Leaning against the wooden planks, tilting your face towards the sun to welcome its embrace — just like Ruth urged you to. 

Across the open field, Salem trotted through the grass, you could see Charlie bouncing and hear his laughter here and there. For a moment, everything almost felt whole. 

But then you felt it — a suspicious sensation crawling up your skin.

Pulling your gaze back towards Arrow House, your brows furrowed. Two men in peaked caps lingered near the hedgerow, like shadows cast by something colder. Their presence was sharp and unsettling.

You tried to shake off the prickling chill crawling up your spine, but it coiled deep and stubborn, like a snake ready to strike.

Their eyes tracked your every movement, even though they played it off by having a gentle chat between a cigarette.

Arrow House was safe, Tommy assured it. They weren’t protectors, or allies. You weren’t being watched over. You were being watched.

And in that moment, with the sun heating your skepticism, the two stallions resting a few metres behind you — you realised something.

You were no freer then they were, nor safer. 

—

The truth didn’t save you, It didn’t set you free. Instead, it only tightened the chains around your hands and feet, dragging you backwards, pulling you closer to his ice-cold grasp.

Now you know what he was. Now you understand why you were never meant to remember. Now you know that the truth was never your salvation, but your damnation. 

Every room feels smaller. Every wall, closer. Every step, louder than the last. The floorboards echo like warning shots. You run, not because you believe you’ll escape, but because stopping means feeling his hands again.

And if he catches you, he’ll look at you with those same calm eyes. The ones that lie without blinking.

He’ll say your name like it still belongs to him. He’ll ask why you’re afraid, as if he doesn’t already know.

And worst of all… he’ll smile. Because now that you know, the lie is dead. And what he buried is alive and burning. 

The truth came at a high price, one that marked you. Made you prey. He doesn’t chase like a man in love. He hunts like a man punishing what ran from him.

You can hear him, not running, no… walking. Calm. Certain. As if this house is just a cage, and all he has to do is wait for you to wear yourself out. Because only he holds the key.

The dim halls of Arrow House twist like a taunting maze. Flickering lights, thrown by the storm outside, shake your steps as if the hallway rocks beneath your feet. No matter which path you take, there is no escape from his spleen, his skill, his wicked wrath.

With every step, it almost felt as if your feet were sinking into the cold polished wooden planks. 

The nausea of the truth twists in your stomach, a cruel ritual demanding you to swallow it whole. Each movement jabs and kicks at your insides. Your aching heart beats, cracking against your ribs. Every heavy breath constricts your throat tighter.

His patronizing voice booms through the grand walls, mood turning rotten in this game of cat and mouse. He shouts his buried rage and frustration, six feet deep in his mind, uncaring if others hear the storm he’s unleashing. His patience has finally run thin with you.

Sounds bounce around you — you can’t tell if he’s still tailing you. But you know he’ll never let you get away.

An invisible band tightens around your head by the second. Your vision blurs as you stumble aimlessly on the ground floor.

Tommy shakes his head watching your swaying body lean weakly against the wall. You try to hold in the nausea just a little longer.

The incoming storm brewed outside in the darkness. Rumbles of thunder vibrated through the walls, the rain began to fire on the windows like machine guns. But no one felt safe inside the manor. 

The creak of the floorboards echoed. Slow. Measured. Tommy Shelby was calculating your next move in this wicked game of chess.

“Darling…” his voice rang out, smooth and low, dangerous in its calmness. The sudden rage vanished from his chest. “Let’s not make a scene. Come here now, and we can talk properly. Like we always do”.

You turn another corner, trying to get out of his sight. Your stomach clenches. His composure was always premeditated. Designed to keep you lost in your beliefs. He would always outrun you, the only option was to fight or hide. 

Slipping into the drawing room, you pushed the door until it clicked shut. Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the ticking clock. 

But you are a fool indeed, forgetting that every door in this house leads back to him. 

The room was dim, only lit by the faint amber glow of dying firewood in the fireplace. The scent of smoke hung thick in the air. You backed away from the door, stepping cautiously. Rain pounds the windows, demanding to be let in.

There was no exit here, no freedom from his torment. 

You saw the shadow appear from the gap of the door. Trembling, you grabbed the only object within reach, a letter opener on the side table. Clutching it tightly, the door creaked open. His blue eyes locked with yours, mouth open as he slowly nods.

“You misunderstood something” Tommy said, closer now, just passed the door frame. “You’re confused. You always get confused when you’re upset” he sighed, unease dripping from his silver tongue. 

The scary part was that he didn’t sound angry, he was calm, loving even. Like this was a minor misunderstanding over dinner. Something that could be resolved with a simple kiss. 

Silence stretches between you. The distance shrinks between you, until he is inches away from you. He fixed his jacket neatly and tightened his tie. 

“I forgave you the first time you left me, the first time you broke me. You’d be a fool to believe that I will ever let you leave me again” he spoke, words coated not with threat, but with a promise. 

A seal to your fate, a set of chains being held out with a wicked smile, expecting you to lock them on yourself and throw the key away. 

Swinging the sharp metal in his direction, Tommy lunged back, swiftly grabbing hold of your arm, he locked it in a painful hold. Your limb twisted as you cried out in pain. Dropping the opener, he huffed and let go, you stumbled, gathering your balance and looked up to him.  

“Enough love! You’re confused! Can’t you see? Let me help you” Tommy spoke firmly, his hands out as a sign of surrender, comfort, but to also gain control. 

You tried to push past him, Tommy Shelby didn’t like that. 

Stomping his foot on the ground, his shoulders rolled back, he spun you around to face him, his beautiful features painted in a frightening expression. Your eyes widened at him, body froze at his competence. His hands squeezed your biceps like you’re jelly. 

“Just take a moment to breathe…” Tommy huffed out, his rough hands trying to ease your distress. 

For a split second, your panic did ease. All while staring at that caring sparkle buried deep in his eyes. But that kind moment burnt out quicker than putting out a candle wick. 

You shoved him, he grumbled as you hurried down the hall. Biting his rage, Tommy followed after you once more. As you tried to climb up the grand staircase, Tommy’s hand latched onto your wrist, your eyes shot brutal daggers at him. 

“I did what I had to do, to protect you, to protect us!” Tommy snarled, pulling you off the step into his chest. 

Roughly shoving him off, you spat at his delusions painted in crimson. The ruthless gangster never did good out of his heart, only what was required to gain his desires, his ambitions. You were another pawn in his game, the queen in this match of chess. Yet he was the one trying to force you into checkmate. 

“You’re sick Tommy! Sick in the head! Do you hear me? Are the engines still too loud for you?” you yelled, jabbing your fingers harshly onto his forehead. 

Swiftly, he grabbed your arms and pulled you close to him, his mouth heaved by yours. A feral animal had been unleashed in Arrow House and you were a defenceless creature awaiting its fangs.

Lightning strikes. His frustration melts into a sinister grin.

“There’s nothing more sickening than love, my darling. I’m cursed by you! But I don’t ever want to be freed” Tommy smirked wickedly, eyes locked onto your lips. His tongue rolled over his cracked lips as he watched your body shudder. “You need to understand, we are so in love darling. Stop digging into the past, you can’t even comprehend it” Tommy explained slyly, eyes twitching. 

“I know enough, the truth doesn’t lie” you spoke shallowly, he raised his nose from it. 

“Enough with the paranoia, it’s making you act stupid. Can you see why I hid this from you!” he snorted, disbelief thick. “You’re not well darling… Have you taken your medication today, eh? Can you see the tantrum you’re having? Come on, let’s take it and let me tend you to bed hm?” Tommy continued, the look of concern almost believable to be genuine. 

Despite the lovers’ quarrel, his hands roamed carefully over your curves, squeezing your skin in all of his favourite spots. The erection in his trousers pressed against your stomach, you tried to ignore it. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead, a peace offering to let both of your frustrations vanish. You controlled your breathing, blinked back tears.

“I’ll kill you” you threatened, quietly, viciously. 

Tommy smiled innocently as he tilted his head down towards you, his double chin formed. His expression dared you to try. His fingers snaked up to the back of your head, he tugged at your roots, you grunted out.  

“You’ve tried that before, remember where it got you?” Tommy toyed, recalling the past. “Oh wait” he chuckled silently. His free fingers roamed over the delicate skin on your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Forming fists, your knuckles turned white, body trembled with bottled anger. 

He rolled his hips against yours, reigning in his believed easy victory.

As the hatred waved over you again, you drove up your knee to his crotch. Immediately his hold retreated as his hands gripped onto his groin. A restrained groan echoed through the air. 

Free from his chains, you fled down the hall, your steps bounced through every wall in the manor. Tommy bellowed his rage at full volume as he marched after you, his polished shoes colliding so hard on the floors that you swore you heard a snap.

“Listen to me!” Tommy roared like a crazed beast.

When his demand went ignored by you, he ripped a painting off the wall, slamming it to the floor before him. The wood snapped into pieces, canvas torn as he stepped over the wreckage. 

You fling open the back door, the breeze of England’s cold nights wrapped around your bare skin, desperate to take you away from him. Heavy raindrops wash your suffering. The woods hidden in the darkness felt safer than the comfort of his deadly hands. 

The sky rumbled, thunder shook the large clouds. Looking back, you caught the crazed look in his blue orbs growing larger by the second. 

“You’ve got nowhere to go my love! I own you!” Tommy shouted as he closed in on you. 

“I’d rather freeze to death than stay here!” you spat, looking him dead in the eye for a split second before running. 

As you flew out into the darkness, you sprinted over the gravel and dirt, your tears blended perfectly with the rain. 

Tommy stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at your actions, your betrayal. His hand pressed against the revolver in his holster hidden underneath his jacket. “You’re mine! No one else’s eh! Mine!” Tommy announced into the storming, dark sky. 

Chasing after you, his arms swayed from side to side. Heavy pants left both of your lips as your figures drown from the light of Arrow House. Your name echoed painfully through the open air, then it turned into another lighting strike. 

The wind blew the door shut, the impact echoing through every wall. As the house fell silent, the staff dared to breathe and allowed their bodies to move as the danger was finally gone. 

For now.  

Four months earlier.

Blurred thoughts, numb emotions, and stinging sensations looped through your paralyzed body. Flashes of diabolic beings poisoned your mind. It felt like you were plummeting through a bright black hole which had no end. A tempting, familiar yet unrecognizable voice spat threats into your ears.

‘You are mine!’ Those three words echoed louder each time, more vicious,  making your weak body tremble with raw fear.

You tried to scream for any chance of mercy. Pleaded to  any savior to hold his gracious hand out. But your mouth went as dry as draughted land. Your hopes shattered silently, crashing into invisible walls.

Your life flashed before your eyes: picking flowers as a child, the sting of a cruel teacher’s whip, your father’s dying grip, meeting your fiancé — and always him, the man who shattered everything.

Still, in this soul wandering universe, he was haunting you. The hold of your beating heart in his hands as you waited for him to pop it to pieces. 

After finally accepting that this was your eternal purpose, allowing the pain to surge through your blood, you saw a bright light above. 

A man with a shadowed face held out his hand. It looked cautionary, but the familiarity of the detail to the pale skin encouraged you to take a hold. You sighed in relief as you finally felt a sense of warmth bloom inside of you. Then everything around you turned to a piercing white and all sound, thoughts and dreadful suffering vanished within you. 

As you blinked heavily, the first thing you noticed was the light above you, too white, too loud. It hummed above you like it was judging you, speechlessly determining your fate. Your head throbbed, not a headache, at least not yet. More like a thick pulsing fog in your head rubbing against your skull. 

You tried to sit up, only to be met with a stampede of pain crashing through every inch of your body. A snapped, dry groan rose from your cracked lips. 

“Take it slow” a deep voice ordered, composed and stern. 

Gearing your stiff neck like clockwork, you allowed your body and mind to fully awaken. Ringing noises echoed down your eardrums. The blurred vision cleared gradually as you inhaled raggedly. 

The objects slowly painted a bland picture in your mind. The sharp scent of perfume, tobacco and alcohol burned your nose. The dullness of the hospital room weighed heavy on your chest despite your thoughts slowly progressing quicker. 

Your arm was equipped up to an IV drip, your lower body kept warm with a thick white blanket, skin covered in sweat. 

You squeezed your hands in worry, but shuddered as you felt a rough, large hand intertwined with yours. Looking over to your right, you stared in disbelief, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. Tilting your head, you wondered if you were still asleep, praying that this was another nightmare. 

Tommy sat by the side of your thin bed. The redness around his blue orbs was like fire surrounding the sea. Quickly, the strong scent of tobacco shot down to your lungs. You coughed at the smell and grumbled out your physical distress. Like bullets, your nervous eyes shot all over the room. There was no one else here, only you and him. 

Alone with the sleeping beast. 

Questions flooded out of your mind. But you were too shocked, weak and confused to speak. However the question as to why he was right by your side, holding your hand in comfort, was skeptical and disordered. 

“My love, you’re awake” Tommy exhaled, as if he was relieved yet his expression was drained of any spec of happiness. 

A firm squeeze to your hand followed after. You winced, every movement sending waves of pain through your bruised body. Gulping down as you dared to ask him the expected initial questions. Tommy’s head tilted as he tried to read your expressions, body language and mind. 

He wore one of his typical grey suits, material too clean for this place. The jacket hung over the back of the chair. Hostler missing its revolver. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he rested his free elbow on his knee. He’s been here for a while, waiting for you to wake up. 

“What happened?” you bleated out, throat burning, raising your free hand to your aching neck. 

His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet momentarily. As his tongue clicked, he leant closer to you, shaking his head only by an inch. 

He wore his usual grey suit, too clean for this place. His jacket draped over the chair, holster empty. Sleeves rolled up as he rested an elbow on his knee.

“You hit your head, darling,” Tommy said with a soft chuckle, eyes fixed on the fresh white bandage.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you blinked slowly. With your eyes shifting towards the door, his followed, you cleared your throat. 

“I need the doctor” you stated, licking your cracked lips once more. 

“We need to talk first” Tommy sighed loudly, letting go of your hand. He plucked a cigarette on the bedside table. Followed by rolling the end between his lips, he looked back to ensure the window was open. 

“Talk?” your reply was delayed, voice full of wonder, brows scrunched together. 

Tommy snickered as he lit the tobacco and inhaled deeply. Looking you dead in the eye, you felt your heartbeat rise with anticipation. But then a demanding thought bursted through your mind as he began to speak. 

“Yes, I need to know if you’re going to-”

“Where’s Eli?” you questioned urgently, tone dripping of worry and yearning. 

“Pardon?” Tommy frowned suddenly, the lit stick hanging from his lip. 

Your heart pumped blood rapidly through your veins, you craved Eli’s presence. How long have you been out? Had this been why Tommy is here, to watch over you while Eli was still away. The sadness grew inside of you, you wished Eli was the one that held your hand during all of this perplexity. 

“Where is Eli? Is he coming? Please, tell me”” you gulped, blinking your teary eyes towards him. 

“Darling…” The stone expression gave you no comfort, no assurance, no hope. 

“Thomas? Where’s Eli?” you quaked as you tried to decipher his stern expression.

“What do you remember last?” he spoke blankly and slowly. 

“Where’s Eli? The nurse? I want the doctor, Thomas!” you shuddered, panic rising, your skin crawling.

The words became muffled, your limbs began to tremble, your chest rose and dropped like waves in the deep sea. Tommy’s dark eyes analysed every reaction. He pressed the back of his hand to your heated forehead, your throat closing in. 

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping the flame out immediately, his face moved much closer to yours. 

“Aye, calm down now sweetheart, we need to talk, remember?” Tommy cooed, his fingers rubbed your sore jaw as he stared into your watery eyes.

“Why are you here Thomas?” you blubbered, voice hollow and scared. 

“What do you mean?” he sighed, holding onto his patience and tranquility. 

Staring into his dark eyes, you tried to find peace in the situation. It wasn’t ordinary for people to wake up to their beloved’s best friend. Especially considering your tainted relationship with Tommy that you desperately wanted to obliterate from existence. 

But the fact that he was here, and not him, sat uneasy in your stomach. Had you done the unbelievable, the unforgivable on multiple ends? Had the ugly truth finally shone in the light. 

“Why are you here, where’s Eli?” you repeat yourself with swelling eyes and trembling lips. 

Another sigh left Tommy’s lips. His hand moved up to your flustered cheek, his eyes low as he admired the skin on your face. 

“My love, just breathe and tell me, what do you last remember, eh?” Tommy spoke calmly. 

You frowned in thought. All of your memories jumbled like you were trapped in a spider’s web. There was no straight line for you to follow. The gears were cranking behind Tommy’s eyes as he waited in anticipation. 

“I-I don’t know, just looking after Charlie” you huffed out, a click left his tongue. 

“Think harder now” he spoke more firmly, ready to be more assertive to get his questions answered. 

You whined in frustration, your throat completely parched. Swaying your head around, you tried to find steady breathing, something to hold onto. One hand massaged your shoulder while the other squeezed your hand tightly. You looked towards him, the rare gentleness beamed in his orbs. Some clarity finally came to your clouded mind.

“Uh, I’ve been at Arrow House for only a few weeks” you answered, relieved that the confusion was finally fading away. 

It went unnoticed with how Tommy’s eyes widened momentarily. As the room turned silent, the only sounds being the humming light and drowned sounds of the city outside, your small moment of peace vanished as you looked back over to him. His expression wasn’t warm. There was something wrong, horribly wrong. 

“Only a few weeks, eh?” Tommy nodded gently, mouth ajar open, his crowded lower teeth showing. 

“What day is it, Thomas?” you hesitated. 

“Perhaps we should get that doctor in” Tommy mumbled as he abruptly stood up, fixing his pants with a rough tug on the waistband. 

You repeated his name in a shaky tone as he strides towards the door. His stance firm, mind moving a lot quicker than his feet. Ignoring your pleas, your hands smacked against the mattress in frustration. 

“Thomas! What day is it!” you demanded, lunging your upper body forward, your lunges heaving in your chest, razor blades running up and down your throat. 

Stubbornly, he kept his eyes pointed onwards, shaking his head at your puny orders. 

“I need to speak to the doctor first” he said vigorously. 

“Dammit! What fucking day is it!” you shouted, your dry throat ached as you fell back onto the bed, defeated. 

His hand rested on the doorknob, his head hung down as he debated on what to do. Turning his head back, he looked at you in pity, caving in easily. 

“August thirteenth, nineteen-thirty-four” he answered. 

It took a long time for you to process his words. Your mind melted into goo and all you could do was feel your heartbeat in a slow rhythm. As the realisation finally snapped in your head, you shook your head in denial. Mouth completely wordless as you narrowed your eyes at Tommy. 

“No, that’s not right…” you whispered.  

Suddenly, your vision cleared as if there was a glossy piece of glass in front of you and Tommy looked different. Now, he didn’t look old, but certainly aged. Like maturing a barrel of whisky. At the top of his head, his hair was grown out a lot more, the front strains fringed around his forehead, the sides evenly shaved. His face had a few more cuts here and there. All of them healed up. His eyes widened as you suddenly choked on your sob. 

“Where’s Eli! Please get a hold of him for me!” you begged pathetically, desperate for Eli to make this make sense 

Tommy blinked as your lungs turned to stone, a panic attack pumping through your blood, on a mission to conquer every inch of your body. His jaw clenched, still yet to blink. 

“Eli isn’t coming, darling” he replied, flat. 

“What?” you gasped silently. 

“I don’t think it’s best for me to tell you too much yet, let me get you that doctor” Tommy nodded, his hand reaching back for the knob. 

“I want Eli, Tommy! Call Eli! Tell him I’m sorry!” you pleaded, even trying to crawl out of the bed, but your lower body ached in agony, you whined out in pain. 

Tommy huffed out under his breath and he approached you. Gently, his hands rested on your biceps, pressing you flat on the bed, pinning your hands at your sides. Brokenly, you allowed him to do so. A flash of sympathy appeared in his eyes. 

“Just breathe, I’ll get the nurse to give you something for your state eh?” Tommy suggested as his body hovered back. 

“Don’t leave me Thomas” you cried, your desperate hands latched onto his shoulders.

His throat swelled as his eyes locked onto your trembling hands. He didn’t hesitate. Slowly, he climbed onto the small bed and wrapped his body around yours like a blanket. You cried into his chest, your body trembled like a delicate flower in the wind. Tommy hummed as he relaxed on the thin bed. Eager to calm you.  

“There, there” he cooed, shifting his hips around slightly to get comfy. “Breathe, you’ll be alright” he whispered as you quietly sobbed into his chest. “You must be so tired, aye?” he murmured, molding his body into yours. 

This was all he wanted, to comfort you, hold you, to take care of you. His soothing words went muffled by your ears, expression unphased. 

Rubbing your dripping nose into his shirt, your tired eyes fell shut. Desperate to wake up from this living nightmare. 

Tommy exhaled and clicked his tongue, his calculating mind turning the cranks once more. He caressed your heated face as he murmured your name. Your breathing eased, grip softened as you fell into a blank state of mind. Tommy breathed silently, rubbing your flustered cheeks.

When you came back to consciousness, Tommy stood by the door with the doctor. His stance was stern like usual. Their words were muffled, all jumbled up in your head, but you could feel his dark eyes through your blurred vision. 

You mumbled out words, shifted your body as you gently moaned. The conversation came to a halt, both of them slowly approached you. 

“Finally awake then my dear?” the doctor smiled gently. “Took quite a fall to the head” he pointed, looking over the bandage. 

You felt calmer. You looked up to the IV drip, a fresh bag connected up. Feeling the soft texture of the white material, you lowered your hand from your face and looked up to them both. 

“What happened to me?” you questioned softly, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders. 

“You had a bit too much to drink and slipped on your gown” the doctor reassured, petting your shoulder gently like you’re a child being looked over for scraping their knee on the gravel. 

“Hit the cased opening” Tommy clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers over the opposite forearms.

Your eyes shot to Tommy. His expression was neutral but there was something dancing in his eyes, the suspicious unavoidable. 

“Why don’t I remember anything” you returned your attention to the doctor.  

“Given your symptoms, your condition is post traumatic amnesia. Since you took such a severe hit to the head, you’ve managed to forget quite a bit of time…” he exhaled. Your breathing shuddered instantly. “All should return in due time” he assured, his shoulders raised as if he could feel the sharp daggers in Tommy’s eyes. “Now you might have trouble storing new memories” he mentioned. 

“I remember waking up to Thomas” you gradually replied. 

“Good, that's a good sign” he smiled softly. 

Doctor Stephens only talked for a little while longer. Very simple terms, most likely for your condition. But you couldn’t help but to feel like a child. Tommy watched the words slip from his crinkling lips. Noticing the way his lips would quiver if you asked too clever of a question. 

You stared at Tommy, his best friend, his brother. Had you destroyed their foundation completely? You felt sick. Not from pain, from the possibility of what you’d done. 

He watched you back, with those dark, charming eyes of his. How easy was it for you to be hypnotized? Did he even have to cast a spell on you, or was it your own free will. Were you tempted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit, too greedy on its costly taste. 

But yet again, where were all of the disgusted, bothered and belittling comments from him? The harsh words he whispered into your ear when people were watching. His rough, dominating hands that made you feel weak. The massive portrait of how much of a burden you were. How badly of a whore you were. 

The temperamental man was dangerously cool. 

Why was the Thomas Shelby here, waiting for you to wake up? 

“How long will it last?” Tommy whispered by the open door, Doctor Stephens blocked out of your view. 

Your wandering, curious eyes poked around, hoping to read lips. But no face was in sight, only the back of Tommy’s head. 

“It depends really, Mr Shelby, it could be days, weeks, months…” he answered unsurely. 

Tommy went silent for a moment, nodding his head as his eyes looked over his shoulder to you. A complete damsel in distress. It brought a softness to his face. 

“Is it possible to be permanent?” he inquired. 

Initially, the doctor laughed. But as he noticed the seriousness in his eyes, he cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt. 

“Depends how severe the trauma was” he answered, a hint of regret for even speaking in such conversation. 

But if Tommy Shelby wanted to talk, you’d better have your words clear. A deep breath left his lips, his shoe clinked on the floorboards as he closed in the distance. 

“When will you know?” Tommy quietly replied. Doctor Stephen’s throat tightened as Tommy loomed over him.  

“Mr Shelby-”

“Thomas” you whined, squirming your aching limbs in the bed, anxious thoughts filling your stomach to the tipping point. 

“Bring in the nurse to help ease her stresses, eh?” Tommy ordered. Doctor Stephens slowly nodded his head. “We’ll talk later” Tommy abruptly ended the conversation before slamming the door shut. 

He tilted his head at you, your heart was pounding again, you thought that you’d soon forget how to breathe. 

“Hey, have some water and just take it easy” Tommy ghosted a smile, pouring you a fresh glass. 

You took a few gulps, hissing at the pain in your throat. 

“Thomas” you gulped, your hand latched onto his. 

You were too desperate for any form of comfort to consider the consequences. Quickly, Tommy climbed back onto the bed and took you into his arms. You heaved out and buried your face into his chest. Mood swings, a common symptom of your condition. 

“Nothing to stress about. Probably just something mild, you’re still very confused. That brain just 

hasn’t fully woken up yet” he chuckled gently. 

For a few minutes, you both laid there in silence, enjoying the calmness before one of the eventual storms. The nurse quickly came and assisted you with a couple of pills. Soon the effects came into play, your body relaxed as you laid on the pillows. Tommy rested back on the seat, brushing his hand through his oiling hair. 

Hesitantly, you looked up to Tommy. Who looked down to you within a blink of the eye. 

“Is Eli coming?” you spoke in hushed tones, half of your face hidden by the pillow. 

Tommy blinked slowly, leant forward and took your cheek in his rough hand. “Remember what I told you?” he whispered, not cruel, yet not kind. 

“I-uh…” you grumbled in defeat. 

“Need you to rest up first, before we talk, alright?” he explained, a smile split through his lips. 

You felt the metal on his left hand as he caressed your face. Your eyes furrowed as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and tugged his hand back.

The gold band around his ring finger shined, his fingers rubbed over the sacred material as he cleared his throat. Yes, some would determine him as a widower, but never had you seen him cherish his past fiancee. His wedding finger was always bare. 

The pieces all fell together, forcing them into place in your mind. Tommy’s eyes flickered from yours to his ring finger. A knowing smile grew ever so slightly on his lips as he returned his gaze to you. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he fetched another cigarette, careless of how close you were to one another.

“Why are you here?”

But then you properly looked at your own ring finger. The diamond that sparkled was not the one that Eli promised you with, but another two. These were bigger, more grand. He lit another cigarette, turned his head to the side and puffed out the ball of smoke. 

“Because my darling” he exhaled, raising his hands besides yours, pressing the rings together. 

And as the weight of that ring settled on your finger, you realised… Whatever life you’d forgotten, it wasn’t yours anymore.

The manor was silent, neat and chilling. Tommy stood calmly as you turned your head slowly around the entrance, trying to regain as many memories as possible. But it was all the same from before, green walls, polished wood and priceless decors placed in a perfect position. Yet you struggled to piece how everything felt so disarranged. 

A residence you hardly knew was now known as your home. A building with countless rooms for you to find comfort in. Many empty beds which would one day be expected for you to fill with children of your own, all holding the Shelby name. 

Noticing how lost you were in thought, Tommy inhaled slowly. Taking off his cap and jacket, the help took it from him, Tommy’s foot stepped closer as he approached you from behind. You gasped as you sensed his presence, the scent of tobacco curled into your nose. 

“Shall we go find Charlie?” Tommy asked, a soft smile on his lips. 

You stuttered, wanting only to run — to your room, to lock the door, to disappear. But something deep in you compelled you to nod your head. Perhaps your past self, the spirit of the woman you didn’t know you turned into. Tommy gently reached for your hand, and led you to the staircase. He glanced over his shoulder and dismissed the staff with a wave.

Slowly, you climbed step by step, your mouth opening as you came to a sudden stop as you stared at the wall. A painting that confirmed your new life in this world, a life dedicated to Thomas Michael Shelby. Tommy’s eyes lingered on the portrait as well… admiring the painting, doting over his family. Reflecting on the process it took… the hours brought for the artist to perfectly get your features, even though he always knew it’d never compare to your beauty. 

You searched for any sign of sadness in your eyes, pain in your lips. But you looked at ease. Charlie sat on both yours and Tommy’s lap. Tommy, of course, looked the same as always. Sharp, determined, and frosty, wearing a neat suit as per usual. Gulping, you looked away from the painting and hurried up the stairs. 

His hand tightened around yours, guiding you down the hall until you reached the nursery. Giving you a gentle look, Tommy nodded his head and let the door creak open. A maid with light brunette hair sat in the middle of the room, with Charlie on the floor. Her eyes immediately shot to you both.  

“Mr Shelby” the maid gasped lightly, Charlie distracted by the wooden toy train in his hand. 

Tommy’s hands rested on your shoulder, lightly urging you to take a step inside. But you hesitated, little Charles now unrecognizable to you. The maid gathered Charlie’s attention, then pointed toward you. A wide, pure smile grew on his tiny lips. 

“Mama!” Charlie cried, balancing onto his feet before he charged for you. 

His body swaying from side to side, Tommy was certain he’d fall. You froze, the baby you cradled at night now a growing toddler, latching his tiny arms around you as he begged you to pick him up. Slowly, you reached down and picked him up, arms shaking as anxiety surged like crashing waves. 

Charlie continued to cry your name, holding tightly onto you and burying his head in his chest. You cooed by his ear, caressed the back of his head as you bounced him on your hip. Tommy came up to you from behind, his breath close to your ear as he rubbed Charles' heated cheek. 

“There, there Charles. Mama is home” Tommy declared, sending chills down your spine. 

You sniffled and blinked away the forming tears before Tommy could notice. The maid blinked her eyes towards you and cleared her throat. Tommy’s eyes shot towards her and he clicked his tongue. 

“Go tend in the kitchen Ruth, ensure Eric is preparing something for us” Tommy rolled his shoulders back. 

“Yes Mr Shelby” Ruth replied quietly, hurrying to her feet.

You stared at Ruth, her features unrecognizable to your fractured mind... she must have started after you arrived. Locking eyes with one another, you could see the fear in her eyes. But you blinked, believing the forced suspicion in your puzzled mind, She hesitated to speak, the first syllable of your name echoing through the air before she came to a sudden stop. “Mrs Shelby” she corrected, Tommy’s eyes followed her to the door. Letting herself out of the room, the door shut behind her. 

Staring at the closed door momentarily, Tommy turned his eyes back to you. His desperate hands urged him to wrap them around your body, the figure he’d missed so dearly. As his hands reached out into the air surrounding you, you took a sudden step forward. 

“He’s grown so much” you commented, smiling at Charlie as he looked up to you. “Let’s play?” you asked, sitting yourself down on the carpet, desperate to reclaim any memory this room might offer. 

Tommy shook off the urge to light another cigarette and sat on the floor close to you. Both of you sat there quietly, spoke a few words to one another as Charlie picked up toy after toy. Keeping your attention on Charlie, you could still feel Tommy’s eyes linger onto you from behind. 

Charlie quickly grew restless as lunchtime neared. As you felt your stomach growl, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Come in” Tommy said. 

Mary appeared, smiling softly down to you all. “Lunch is prepared Mr Shelby” she announced. 

Tommy nodded and dismissed her. “Are you hungry my boy?” Tommy asked, reaching his hand towards Charlie’s head to scuffle his hair. Charlie whined out and stood onto his two feet. “Hungry, my darling?” he continued, widening the corners of his lips with a closed smile. 

You quietly nodded, sitting up onto your knees and weakly holding your arms out to Charlie. But Tommy picked him up instead, soothing by his ear as he grew reckless for food. Sitting him up on his right hip, Tommy held out his hand for you once more, you reluctantly took it. 

The nursery room door closed, Charlie’s toys remained scattered over the carpet. 

BEFORE

The morning after crawled in through the window like a thief — pale light spilling across the disheveled sheets, the taste of ash still on your tongue. The new reality pounding against your skull. Guilt and regret churned in your stomach, thick and sour, twisting tighter with each breath.

You barely made it to the bathroom before collapsing beside the toilet, clutching the cold bowl as your body lurched forward. Each dry heave scorched your throat, leaving tears burning in your eyes. But the shame stayed buried in you. 

A quiet shuffle behind you. Then…

“Good morning, my love”

Eli’s voice was too loud for the early hour, tone soaked in amusement. He crouched behind you, gently sweeping your hair back with one hand, the other roaming up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

You clung to the bowl like it was the only solid thing in the world, your shoulders trembling, lips wobbling.

“What’s wrong with you, eh?” Eli chuckled. “You drank half as much as me, and I’m right as rain”

“They sell cheap gin” you rasped, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, pushing yourself up on shaky arms.

“Aye, Tom started brewing it himself” Eli grinned. “Don’t let him hear you say that”

You didn’t respond, just staggered back toward the bed. The hotel room was still dim, curtains half-drawn against the rising sun, the air stale with smoke and perfume. You collapsed face-down into the sheets, turning your face toward the wall — away from him, away from the memories still flashing in your mind like a broken film.

Eli followed with a glass of cold water, sitting on the edge of the bed. He rested a warm hand on your upper arm, rubbing small circles into your skin. The water is placed on the bedside table. 

“Am I going to have to play doctor today?” he whispered, smiling wide.

“I can take care of myself” you mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.

“No, no…” he mused. “Haven’t seen you like this since… ever” he acknowledged. 

His fingers traced your bare shoulder, slow and deliberate. A pause.

“You’re meant to see Thomas” you muttered, silently cringing at the thought.

“Thomas?” he repeated slowly, left eyebrow raised. “You two on full-name terms now?”

A split second went by.

“Sorry — Tommy” you corrected. 

“Mmm” Eli hummed thoughtfully, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’ll call his office and cancel” he glanced at you with a soft smile, though there was a firmness beneath it. “You need to eat something,” he added, sweet but commanding.

“No. I need to sleep” you opposed.

“Food is good” he said, entirely unbothered.

There was an instant silence. 

You heard the clatter of the rotary dial as he reached for the phone on the bedside table. You peeked at him through half-lidded eyes — too casual, too composed, as if none of this lingered in him the way it did in you. 

Of course none of it did, he was blinded. You were keeping him in the dark, it was only a matter of time until Tommy showed him the light. He was already plotting your exile, you were certain about it. 

“‘Ello, just need some room service” he said, soft and smooth. “Breakfast for two — aye, that sounds lovely… Mhm. Perfect, thank you, darling. Champagne? Think we’ll skip that today” he chuckled, squeezing your hip. 

He hung up and looked down at you with that same crooked smile.

“Doctor’s orders” he shrugged gently. 

It was quickly followed with another sequence of the rotary dial turning. Eli held the receiver to his ear, tapping his fingers on his bare knee as he awaited. 

“Ah yes, this is Elias Walsh speaking… My, my — is that you, Lizzie? How are you today?” Eli grinned, his tone light but with an edge that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

A soft, enthusiastic hum followed, but his gaze stayed distant as he glanced out the window at the grey sky.

“Good, good” he murmured smoothly. “It’s nice to be back home. Is Tom in?” He tapped his fingers lightly on the windowsill, eyes narrowing just slightly.

A pause stretched on the line.

“Ah, shame” Eli sighed faintly. “Please tell him something’s come up… We’ll see him tomorrow” His smile tightened, a shadow flickering across his face.

He shifted slightly toward you, then back to the receiver. “Will you be going to the races too, Lizzie?”

Another pause, then a quiet reply.

“Ah… another shame” Eli’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, before he added softly,

“Suppose I’ll see you next time I’m in. Bye, Lizzie. Have a lovely day”

He ended the call with a soft click, fingers lingering on the receiver for a moment before he set it down carefully.

Eli kissed your temple, soft and deliberate, like you might shatter if he pressed too hard. Your breath caught as his warmth sank into you. His thumbs brushed your arms, coaxing you toward the water glass, gentle but firm.

You drank the water, gulping hard as your stomach growled. Eli laid beside you — in silence — as the sun’s warmth blissed into the room. His eyes never left you, as you focused your sight at a random spot. 

You didn’t eat much — you couldn’t. Not that Eli ever expected you to. He happily tucked into his meal, stealing a good portion of yours too. Even the water felt like it was going to come back up. He gulped down his coffee as if it was stone cold. 

All you could do was sit still, focus on your breaths and try to clear your rattling mind. 

The sun hid behind the clouds and smoke, the curtains opened as Eli looked down at the rusting city. A stern expression locked on as he observed the working men walking below him. 

He tidied up, ran a warm bath for you, filled with lavender. Rubbing his hands together, he approached you. A smile so innocent, yet something else… It made your chest tighten — just by an inch. 

Reaching out for you, you allowed him to pick you up. The behind of your knees locked in one arm and your shoulder blades in the other. Carrying you to the ensuite, Eli gently dropped you to your feet, the cold tiles prickled at your skin.

Stripping your clothing like you were a delicate flower, Eli held out his hand for you as you stepped into the warm water. A breath of ease echoed out as you sunk in. Your eyes squeezed shut as your body relaxed in its embrace. 

But even as the lavender wrapped around your skin, your thoughts slid somewhere else. A flicker—barely conscious—of different hands helping you, a different voice calling you 'love'. The weight of someone else behind your closed eyes. And it wasn’t Eli. It was Tommy. Shamefully Tommy.

Eli’s hands held onto the waistband of his briefs when the phone rang. 

Both of you looked out of the ensuite. 

The continuous ringing filled the room. 

A moment of hesitation from the both of you. 

“Just a minute… my love” Eli said quietly.

His footsteps echoed softly as he stepped out of the ensuite. The door creaked shut behind him, and the phone kept ringing, sharp and insistent. He hesitated for a heartbeat, then picked up with a low, clipped tone.

“Elias Walsh speaking” he said — voice drained of all warmth.

From the other side of the door, muffled voices — sharp, tense — bled through the walls. Eli’s brow furrowed with every word. His jaw tightened until it looked like it might crack, shoulders locking rigid.

“Relax, Tom. Just relax, will you? Still drunk, are we?”

You caught the edge of a laugh — cold, almost bitter — before his voice turned sharper, frustration biting through. His footstops crept under the door as he paced back and forth.

“She’s not feeling well, Tom. I’m not leaving her cooped up here all day in a city she doesn’t know”

Eli’s tone held warning — that unmistakable mix of threat and disappointment.

You listened, silent. They knew each other too well. You could hear it in the rhythms of the call — the coded hostility, the unspoken history. But Eli didn’t hear the shift in Tommy’s tone last night. He didn’t see the way his eyes had locked on you like a wolf spotting a mark. Eli might understand Tommy the soldier, the businessman, the ruthless gangster… But not Tommy with you. Not with the woman who uncovered him, for a glimpse of time. 

“I’m not your dog, Tom”

Correct, you thought. But maybe you don’t know the invisible collars everyone wears in this city.

A short beat.

“Then quit barking at me like one”

He pressed harder now, his voice thick with disdain.

“Just because you don’t give a damn about women doesn’t mean I’m thoughtless too. I’ll see you tomorrow. That’s final”

The call ended with a sharp snap. Eli dropped the receiver back into its holder and ran a hand through his hair. He stared at the mirror as he needed to pull himself back together.

His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. 

Rolling his neck, he stepped to the door, and pushed it open. 

The smile he’d worn earlier had vanished — replaced by something colder. There was anger in his eyes, but he buried it well.

He stepped before you, quiet. 

“You can still go” you said softly. “I don’t need you to stay”

Saying it felt like opening a fresh wound—painful and raw. You wanted to stop the words before they left your mouth, but they slipped out anyway. It was like offering the knife to inevitably cut open your heart. 

“Nonsense” Eli scoffed. “Tom thinks this is his city. Thinks he makes the rules. I’m the only one not afraid to challenge that”

You almost pitied him. Because the city wasn’t the prize here. Tommy’s power ran deeper, harder to trace — a kind of leverage you hadn’t learned to see yet. But you could feel its weight, pressing down on everything, especially in the way he looked at you… Like you were already a part of a game you hadn’t agreed to play.

“You told me it was his city”

“Yes, but we’re partners” he replied. “I won’t bow to him”

You wondered about their friendship. But then you remembered — it was tied up with business. And business always pulled the worst out of people. It twisted loyalties, blurred lines, and bred a quiet kind of wariness beneath even the closest smiles. Between Tommy and Eli, there were debts unpaid and secrets kept, things spoken in half-truths and silence. You could see how the weight of it all pressed on them, shaping every glance and every word. 

It wasn’t just friendship—it was a delicate, dangerous balance, and you were caught right in the middle, like a lamb wandering between two wolves, neither of whom would hesitate to tear you apart if it served their purpose.

You were awaiting a pair of fangs, or more. 

“It sounds like you don’t even like him” you commented. 

Eli laughed under his breath.

It was always difficult, the two of them working side by side — both too proud, too hungry for control. Every decision felt like a quiet battle, every glance a contest of will, every task had to be executed perfectly otherwise they risked being told about their room for improvement. 

“He’s a bastard. Always has been. But so am I — I suppose. But we’re bound by blood — and blood keeps you close, even when you’d rather cut the vein”

His mind drifted, to the trenches, to the dirt, to the undergrounds of France. The echoes of their fallen comrades running down his eardrums. The promises shed between one another, the boundaries crossed to keep each other alive, the pain they endured together. He blinked once, twice, thrice. Pulling him back.

You spoke no words, but he noticed how tight his grip was on your thighs. Too tight. After a beat, he let go. 

You didn’t flinch. Just reached for his hands, gently. You always knew when the ghosts were clawing at him. Somehow, every time, you pulled him back.

Wanting to cut through the heaviness, he searched for lighter air.

“This trip’s not all business, remember? I still owe you that walk to the bridge…” He reached for your hand. “So you’d better be feeling good soon, darling”

AFTER

You watched the way Sarah, one of the maids, stared at Tommy as she served him his supper. Her wide eyes and agape mouth went unnoticed by him as she got as close as she was professionally allowed to do. The exact way she acted when she cleared the table after lunch. He focused on his cigarette, blowing the smoke in the other direction to keep the smoke away from Charlie. 

“Do you always smoke in front of him?” you asked, looking down to the young Shelby that sat on your lap. 

“Here and there” Tommy replied, taking in a deep inhale as if he knew what your next sentence will be. 

“I don’t think it’d be good for his lungs” you pointed out. 

“Suppose you’re right” he immediately agreed, pressing his cigarette out into the ashtray beside him. 

He looked down to his meal, Tommy hardly ate, that much you could remember from before. He merely preferred to watch, often using restaurants as a setting to organise business meetings. But today, he made a difference for you. 

Blinking at the plate full of roast lamb, a variety of vegetables, a slice of sourdough bread covered in gravy, he cut the meat and took a mouthful of delicious food he hardly indulged himself in. You smiled softly, helping Charlie take a bite of his mashed potatoes. 

“Let me feed him, love. You need to eat too” Tommy said, looking over to your untouched plate. 

“He’s comfortable” you sighed, your eyes growing tired over an exhausting day of hardly doing anything.

Finishing the food in his mouth, Tommy scooted the wooden chair back and slipped out from the table. 

“Come on Charlie, come to dada” Tommy instructed, holding out his hands for his son as he stood beside you. 

Charlie reached out for his father, you exhaled and looked down to your meal. Your stomach still felt extremely small, your appetite hidden in the shadows. The Doctor urged you to eat even if your mind didn’t desire it, but he didn’t tell you how hard it could be from time to time. 

Slowly, you took small bite after small bite. Tommy’s eyes moved from Charlie to you as he kept him on his knee. His small hands played with his food, Tommy tutted but allowed his child to explore his capabilities. 

“A few more bites, darling” Tommy ordered kindly. 

Your cheeks turned a shade of red as you stared at your food, you could hardly finish your lunch earlier. This felt like too much to achieve. The plate was still over half full, a part of you thought you’d be here all night. A few bites later, you placed the metal cutlery down and looked over to Tommy. 

“Come on son, let’s let you in the bath” Tommy stood up. 

You followed after him, the maids entered on your way out. Locking eyes with Sarah, your brows furrowed as you tried to remember your interactions with her. But she hardly spoke to you, seemed to ignore you at every chance. She forced her attention ahead, and helped clear the table. 

The two of you bathed Charlie, small sounds of laughter left both of your lips as Charlie splashed his arms continuously in the water. The tiles under your knees now warm,  sleeves rolled up to elbows, hair damp from the splashes of bathwater from Charlie’s wild delight. 

“Enough, you little rascal” Tommy ordered through a smirk. 

Of course, Charlie didn’t. He cupped the water in his little hands before letting it run over the rim. You sighed, the water soaking immediately into your fabric. 

“He likes the lavender soap” Tommy said quietly, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant only for you. 

You glanced at the bottle sitting by your hip, the label worn and soap nearly empty. “Did I use this before?”

There was a pause. Just enough to notice the flicker in his eyes.

“You did” he said finally. “Said it helped him sleep”

You nodded, even though you didn’t remember. It was easier that way, to let the rhythm of the moment guide you instead of the questions pressing behind your ribs. Just for tonight though, to keep the high tide of emotions deep in the sea of your clouded mind. 

Tommy dipped a hand into the water and rubbed it gently over his son’s curls. The boy leaned into the touch, familiar and safe.

“He’s always happier when you’re here” Tommy murmured. “You were good with him. Still are” he corrected. 

You weren’t sure how to answer that. Instead, you leaned forward, gently rinsing the soap from the boy’s arms as he giggled and splashed at your fingers. You shook off his implications, the path he was trying to already walk you down. He still owed you answers, no matter how much he wanted to avoid them. 

Tommy watched the two of you with a stillness that made your skin prickle, not threatening, just... observant. Almost reverent towards you. For a moment, it felt like this was real. Like you had always belonged here, knees on tile, child between you, and Tommy beside you in silence. Fulfilling the vows you’d made for him. But then you remembered how those vows were supposed to be for Eli, and your stomach turned.  

Still, you smiled for the boy. Because he was real. His laugh was real. And that was enough of a distraction to keep everything at bay. The adoration you remembered for him was still there, the only person, memory in this house that made you smile, feel at peace. 

You noticed a fresh scar just below Tommy’s neck. Thin, red, and not quite healed.

“What happened?” you asked.

He brushed his fingers over it like he’d only just remembered.

“Just a business deal gone bad, my love” he said, too lightly. Too rehearsed.

You mouth opened to ask more, but Charlie squealed just then — a handful of bubbles popping in his face.

Tommy chuckled, leaning in. “Oi, little rascal”

And just like that, the moment passed. Your mind drifted.

Shortly after, Tommy pulled Charlie from the bath, the water dripped as you hurried to wrap a towel around him. Changing him into his nightwear, Tommy was indeed true to his word. The child cried as soon as you laid him down in the darkness. 

You held Charlie tight in your arms, soothing a lullaby into his ear as Tommy leant by the wall beside you. Admiring how you still were with children after everything, most importantly, his child, your Charlie. As Charlie’s cries died down, Tommy silently appeared behind you, gently stroking his son’s cheek as he fell into a deep slumber. 

“Finally” you whispered, leaning into the crib to place him down. The both of you left in silence, Tommy clicked the door shut. 

The security of Charlie was now gone, you were alone with Tommy. It was hard to look him in the eyes as you held your shivering hands. 

“Did you want to stay up, my love? Maybe read a book while I work?” Tommy offered, accompanied by a hopeful smile.

“I’m tired, Tommy” you declined, voice weak. Looking down as a yawn came out of you. He read your expression, letting the silence dance around you. 

“Let’s get you to bed then” he replied. 

But you weren’t led to your room, it was his room. At least that’s all you remembered it to be. Your eyes scanned around the large bedroom, the curtains drawn shut and fire dancing away. You felt your stomach ache, Tommy casually walked through and poured himself a drink. 

“Tommy” you spoke, he looked back at you. “I can’t sleep in here” you stated, looking to the floor. He stood there silently, drink in hand as he slowly nodded his head. “I don’t feel comfortable enough, please understand” you begged, feeling pathetic, your eyes twitching with tears.

“Of course, get dressed, I’ll prepare your old room” Tommy assured, rubbing his hand over yours. 

Leaving you alone, you exhaled, shaking your head at how timid you felt to be back here at Arrow House. Forcing yourself into the wardrobe, you dragged your fingertips over the variety of items hung up. Many pieces seemed to be untouched. Countless of styles you’d never dare to wear. Colours you hated and styles you thought were clearly out of fashion. 

You found your sleepwear and changed quickly, fearful he’d walk back in at any moment. Tying the robe tightly around your figure, you hurried down the hall, the warm lights leading you towards him. The door was open, he was on his knees as he placed pieces of wood into the rising fire. His drink of whiskey is empty on the side table. 

Approaching you, Tommy took your hands in his, looking you dead in the eye. You shuddered, feeling defenseless with him. 

“I’ll have Ruth bring you some tea, it’ll help you sleep, put your mind to ease” he whispered, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you Tommy” you whispered, forcing a small smile at him to keep him happy. 

A gentle kiss was placed to your forehead, you shivered at his cold lips. Leaving you in solitary, the door clicked shut, you sat on the bed and finally let your tears break free. 

Bee-lining to his office in a hurried pace, Tommy called out Ruth’s name. The office door flung open as he strode into the room, heading straight to his desk. Ruth scurried in, rolled her shoulders back and clamped her hands behind her back. 

“Mr Shelby” she answered, trying to keep her heaving at a low from her sudden dash. 

Opening his top desk draw, Tommy pulled out a small wrapped package. Ripping it open, he stared at the clear bag of herbal tea in his hand. Holding it up to the light, he inspected the purple substance, his face stern and eyes intimidatingly wide. Ruth’s eyes narrowed as she observed him. 

“Mrs Shelby needs some tea. Brew her this, check on her in an hour” Tommy instructed, taking long steps towards his worker. 

Holding out the bag, Ruth inspected it, daring to look him up in the eye. “What is it, Mr Shelby?” she questioned, her curiosity got the better of her. 

Letting his arm drop a few inches before she could grab it, his brow cocked, blue eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Ruth could feel her heart thump against her chest as he allowed the silence to frighten her. 

“Lavender” he clicked his tongue, shaking the bag for her to grab ahold of it. 

Taking the item, Ruth rushed out of the room and followed his orders. Carrying up the cup of hot tea, she gave a few gentle raps before opening the door. The tears on your cheeks were clear from the doorway, you sniffled and wiped your face dry. 

Following clear, strict orders before your arrival, she kept her mouth shut unless necessary. The fine china clinked on the bedside table, she gave you a soft smile. 

The scent pulled you in, warm and floral. But something inside you held still. A thread pulled tight in your chest — not fear, not exactly. Just tension, sharp and shapeless.

“Mrs Shelby” she whispered, nodding her head before departing. 

You looked over to the tea, the steam twirled above the cup, the smokey notes whispering sweet nothings through your senses. You picked up the cup, letting its heat warm your scared hands. Breathing in the scent, you felt the calming, peaceful and soothing effects already make an effort on you. You took a small sip, awaiting it to cool down enough to indulge its herbal bite. 

Tommy sat at his desk, staring directly at the clock. Watching the arms progress around the circle, over and over again. Only waiting for the small hand to complete a full run. Cigarette after cigarette, drink after drink, Tommy’s hands impatiently tapped on the wooden top. His mind growing desperate, body turning reckless. 

As an hour had passed, Tommy hopped to his feet and walked out of his office. On perfect timing, he watched Ruth climb the staircase, his footsteps silent, appearance unnoticed as he followed behind her. Ruth slipped into your room, Tommy leant on the wall beside the wall as he waited. He lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. 

You laid motionless in bed, the cup empty with the herbal remains left cold at the bottom of the china. Your eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow as small sounds left your lips. Counting silently, you breathed in and out, she approached your side and picked up the glass, followed by flicking off the lamp. 

She took cautious steps back towards the door, hell barely touching the carpet in fear of any creaks waking you. But you didn’t move, she gave you one last look and slipped out of the room, soundlessly shutting the door behind her. 

A gasp left her lips as she heard Tommy’s foot step behind her, his cigarette in between his lips. Tommy frowned slightly down at her, slowly, he raised his hand to pull the cigarette out of his lips, blowing the smoke directly over her face. 

“I hope Mary didn’t forget to remind you of your role” Tommy hummed, leaning his head an inch closer to her. Ruth didn’t dare to say a word. “You’re the help, not her friend. I kept you here to make sure she stays comfortable. I hope you don’t make me regret that decision” Tommy continued, his words dripping of threat. Ruth gulped, keeping her chin up as his eyes inspected her. Her limbs trembled below him. “You’re dismissed, you’ve had a long day” Tommy dismissed her, a smirk crept on his lips. 

She took shaky steps down the carpet, but looked over her shoulder as she heard the door crept open again. Freezing in her steps, she watched Tommy peep his head through the crack. His recently lit cigarette now pressed into the carpet. Like clockwork, he turned his head towards Ruth. 

“Why are you going in there?” she spoke in hushed tones, but he heard her loud and clear. 

“Don’t stress about it, I’m her husband… Remember?” Tommy challenged, the smirk on his lips turning wicked. “Go to bed Ruth… That’s an order” Tommy spoke firmly, before slipping into your bedroom below Ruth could utter another word. 

Taking soundless steps, Tommy navigated his way through the dark. Dropping his knees onto the carpet, he held onto your hand and pressed his chest into the edge of the bed. He gently kissed your hand, trailing the kisses up your arm. 

Leaning over you now, he caressed your heated cheek, you murmured in your sleep.

—

The truth didn’t save you, It didn’t set you free. Instead, it only tightened the chains around your hands and feet, dragging you backwards, pulling you closer to his ice-cold grasp.

Now you know what he was. Now you understand why you were never meant to remember. Now you know that the truth was never your salvation, but your damnation. 

Every room feels smaller. Every wall, closer. Every step, louder than the last. The floorboards echo like warning shots. You run, not because you believe you’ll escape, but because stopping means feeling his hands again.

And if he catches you, he’ll look at you with those same calm eyes. The ones that lie without blinking.

He’ll say your name like it still belongs to him. He’ll ask why you’re afraid, as if he doesn’t already know.

And worst of all… he’ll smile. Because now that you know, the lie is dead. And what he buried is alive and burning. 

The truth came at a high price, one that marked you. Made you prey. He doesn’t chase like a man in love. He hunts like a man punishing what ran from him.

You can hear him, not running, no… walking. Calm. Certain. As if this house is just a cage, and all he has to do is wait for you to wear yourself out. Because only he holds the key.

The dim halls of Arrow House twist like a taunting maze. Flickering lights, thrown by the storm outside, shake your steps as if the hallway rocks beneath your feet. No matter which path you take, there is no escape from his spleen, his skill, his wicked wrath.

With every step, it almost felt as if your feet were sinking into the cold polished wooden planks. 

The nausea of the truth twists in your stomach, a cruel ritual demanding you to swallow it whole. Each movement jabs and kicks at your insides. Your aching heart beats, cracking against your ribs. Every heavy breath constricts your throat tighter.

His patronizing voice booms through the grand walls, mood turning rotten in this game of cat and mouse. He shouts his buried rage and frustration, six feet deep in his mind, uncaring if others hear the storm he’s unleashing. His patience has finally run thin with you.

Sounds bounce around you — you can’t tell if he’s still tailing you. But you know he’ll never let you get away.

An invisible band tightens around your head by the second. Your vision blurs as you stumble aimlessly on the ground floor.

Tommy shakes his head watching your swaying body lean weakly against the wall. You try to hold in the nausea just a little longer.

The incoming storm brewed outside in the darkness. Rumbles of thunder vibrated through the walls, the rain began to fire on the windows like machine guns. But no one felt safe inside the manor. 

The creak of the floorboards echoed. Slow. Measured. Tommy Shelby was calculating your next move in this wicked game of chess.

“Darling…” his voice rang out, smooth and low, dangerous in its calmness. The sudden rage vanished from his chest. “Let’s not make a scene. Come here now, and we can talk properly. Like we always do”.

You turn another corner, trying to get out of his sight. Your stomach clenches. His composure was always premeditated. Designed to keep you lost in your beliefs. He would always outrun you, the only option was to fight or hide. 

Slipping into the drawing room, you pushed the door until it clicked shut. Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the ticking clock. 

But you are a fool indeed, forgetting that every door in this house leads back to him. 

The room was dim, only lit by the faint amber glow of dying firewood in the fireplace. The scent of smoke hung thick in the air. You backed away from the door, stepping cautiously. Rain pounds the windows, demanding to be let in.

There was no exit here, no freedom from his torment. 

You saw the shadow appear from the gap of the door. Trembling, you grabbed the only object within reach, a letter opener on the side table. Clutching it tightly, the door creaked open. His blue eyes locked with yours, mouth open as he slowly nods.

“You misunderstood something” Tommy said, closer now, just passed the door frame. “You’re confused. You always get confused when you’re upset” he sighed, unease dripping from his silver tongue. 

The scary part was that he didn’t sound angry, he was calm, loving even. Like this was a minor misunderstanding over dinner. Something that could be resolved with a simple kiss. 

Silence stretches between you. The distance shrinks between you, until he is inches away from you. He fixed his jacket neatly and tightened his tie. 

“I forgave you the first time you left me, the first time you broke me. You’d be a fool to believe that I will ever let you leave me again” he spoke, words coated not with threat, but with a promise. 

A seal to your fate, a set of chains being held out with a wicked smile, expecting you to lock them on yourself and throw the key away. 

Swinging the sharp metal in his direction, Tommy lunged back, swiftly grabbing hold of your arm, he locked it in a painful hold. Your limb twisted as you cried out in pain. Dropping the opener, he huffed and let go, you stumbled, gathering your balance and looked up to him.  

“Enough love! You’re confused! Can’t you see? Let me help you” Tommy spoke firmly, his hands out as a sign of surrender, comfort, but to also gain control. 

You tried to push past him, Tommy Shelby didn’t like that. 

Stomping his foot on the ground, his shoulders rolled back, he spun you around to face him, his beautiful features painted in a frightening expression. Your eyes widened at him, body froze at his competence. His hands squeezed your biceps like you’re jelly. 

“Just take a moment to breathe…” Tommy huffed out, his rough hands trying to ease your distress. 

For a split second, your panic did ease. All while staring at that caring sparkle buried deep in his eyes. But that kind moment burnt out quicker than putting out a candle wick. 

You shoved him, he grumbled as you hurried down the hall. Biting his rage, Tommy followed after you once more. As you tried to climb up the grand staircase, Tommy’s hand latched onto your wrist, your eyes shot brutal daggers at him. 

“I did what I had to do, to protect you, to protect us!” Tommy snarled, pulling you off the step into his chest. 

Roughly shoving him off, you spat at his delusions painted in crimson. The ruthless gangster never did good out of his heart, only what was required to gain his desires, his ambitions. You were another pawn in his game, the queen in this match of chess. Yet he was the one trying to force you into checkmate. 

“You’re sick Tommy! Sick in the head! Do you hear me? Are the engines still too loud for you?” you yelled, jabbing your fingers harshly onto his forehead. 

Swiftly, he grabbed your arms and pulled you close to him, his mouth heaved by yours. A feral animal had been unleashed in Arrow House and you were a defenceless creature awaiting its fangs.

Lightning strikes. His frustration melts into a sinister grin.

“There’s nothing more sickening than love, my darling. I’m cursed by you! But I don’t ever want to be freed” Tommy smirked wickedly, eyes locked onto your lips. His tongue rolled over his cracked lips as he watched your body shudder. “You need to understand, we are so in love darling. Stop digging into the past, you can’t even comprehend it” Tommy explained slyly, eyes twitching. 

“I know enough, the truth doesn’t lie” you spoke shallowly, he raised his nose from it. 

“Enough with the paranoia, it’s making you act stupid. Can you see why I hid this from you!” he snorted, disbelief thick. “You’re not well darling… Have you taken your medication today, eh? Can you see the tantrum you’re having? Come on, let’s take it and let me tend you to bed hm?” Tommy continued, the look of concern almost believable to be genuine. 

Despite the lovers’ quarrel, his hands roamed carefully over your curves, squeezing your skin in all of his favourite spots. The erection in his trousers pressed against your stomach, you tried to ignore it. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead, a peace offering to let both of your frustrations vanish. You controlled your breathing, blinked back tears.

“I’ll kill you” you threatened, quietly, viciously. 

Tommy smiled innocently as he tilted his head down towards you, his double chin formed. His expression dared you to try. His fingers snaked up to the back of your head, he tugged at your roots, you grunted out.  

“You’ve tried that before, remember where it got you?” Tommy toyed, recalling the past. “Oh wait” he chuckled silently. His free fingers roamed over the delicate skin on your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Forming fists, your knuckles turned white, body trembled with bottled anger. 

He rolled his hips against yours, reigning in his believed easy victory.

As the hatred waved over you again, you drove up your knee to his crotch. Immediately his hold retreated as his hands gripped onto his groin. A restrained groan echoed through the air. 

Free from his chains, you fled down the hall, your steps bounced through every wall in the manor. Tommy bellowed his rage at full volume as he marched after you, his polished shoes colliding so hard on the floors that you swore you heard a snap.

“Listen to me!” Tommy roared like a crazed beast.

When his demand went ignored by you, he ripped a painting off the wall, slamming it to the floor before him. The wood snapped into pieces, canvas torn as he stepped over the wreckage. 

You fling open the back door, the breeze of England’s cold nights wrapped around your bare skin, desperate to take you away from him. Heavy raindrops wash your suffering. The woods hidden in the darkness felt safer than the comfort of his deadly hands. 

The sky rumbled, thunder shook the large clouds. Looking back, you caught the crazed look in his blue orbs growing larger by the second. 

“You’ve got nowhere to go my love! I own you!” Tommy shouted as he closed in on you. 

“I’d rather freeze to death than stay here!” you spat, looking him dead in the eye for a split second before running. 

As you flew out into the darkness, you sprinted over the gravel and dirt, your tears blended perfectly with the rain. 

Tommy stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at your actions, your betrayal. His hand pressed against the revolver in his holster hidden underneath his jacket. “You’re mine! No one else’s eh! Mine!” Tommy announced into the storming, dark sky. 

Chasing after you, his arms swayed from side to side. Heavy pants left both of your lips as your figures drown from the light of Arrow House. Your name echoed painfully through the open air, then it turned into another lighting strike. 

The wind blew the door shut, the impact echoing through every wall. As the house fell silent, the staff dared to breathe and allowed their bodies to move as the danger was finally gone. 

For now.  

Four months earlier.

Blurred thoughts, numb emotions, and stinging sensations looped through your paralyzed body. Flashes of diabolic beings poisoned your mind. It felt like you were plummeting through a bright black hole which had no end. A tempting, familiar yet unrecognizable voice spat threats into your ears.

‘You are mine!’ Those three words echoed louder each time, more vicious,  making your weak body tremble with raw fear.

You tried to scream for any chance of mercy. Pleaded to  any savior to hold his gracious hand out. But your mouth went as dry as draughted land. Your hopes shattered silently, crashing into invisible walls.

Your life flashed before your eyes: picking flowers as a child, the sting of a cruel teacher’s whip, your father’s dying grip, meeting your fiancé — and always him, the man who shattered everything.

Still, in this soul wandering universe, he was haunting you. The hold of your beating heart in his hands as you waited for him to pop it to pieces. 

After finally accepting that this was your eternal purpose, allowing the pain to surge through your blood, you saw a bright light above. 

A man with a shadowed face held out his hand. It looked cautionary, but the familiarity of the detail to the pale skin encouraged you to take a hold. You sighed in relief as you finally felt a sense of warmth bloom inside of you. Then everything around you turned to a piercing white and all sound, thoughts and dreadful suffering vanished within you. 

As you blinked heavily, the first thing you noticed was the light above you, too white, too loud. It hummed above you like it was judging you, speechlessly determining your fate. Your head throbbed, not a headache, at least not yet. More like a thick pulsing fog in your head rubbing against your skull. 

You tried to sit up, only to be met with a stampede of pain crashing through every inch of your body. A snapped, dry groan rose from your cracked lips. 

“Take it slow” a deep voice ordered, composed and stern. 

Gearing your stiff neck like clockwork, you allowed your body and mind to fully awaken. Ringing noises echoed down your eardrums. The blurred vision cleared gradually as you inhaled raggedly. 

The objects slowly painted a bland picture in your mind. The sharp scent of perfume, tobacco and alcohol burned your nose. The dullness of the hospital room weighed heavy on your chest despite your thoughts slowly progressing quicker. 

Your arm was equipped up to an IV drip, your lower body kept warm with a thick white blanket, skin covered in sweat. 

You squeezed your hands in worry, but shuddered as you felt a rough, large hand intertwined with yours. Looking over to your right, you stared in disbelief, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. Tilting your head, you wondered if you were still asleep, praying that this was another nightmare. 

Tommy sat by the side of your thin bed. The redness around his blue orbs was like fire surrounding the sea. Quickly, the strong scent of tobacco shot down to your lungs. You coughed at the smell and grumbled out your physical distress. Like bullets, your nervous eyes shot all over the room. There was no one else here, only you and him. 

Alone with the sleeping beast. 

Questions flooded out of your mind. But you were too shocked, weak and confused to speak. However the question as to why he was right by your side, holding your hand in comfort, was skeptical and disordered. 

“My love, you’re awake” Tommy exhaled, as if he was relieved yet his expression was drained of any spec of happiness. 

A firm squeeze to your hand followed after. You winced, every movement sending waves of pain through your bruised body. Gulping down as you dared to ask him the expected initial questions. Tommy’s head tilted as he tried to read your expressions, body language and mind. 

He wore one of his typical grey suits, material too clean for this place. The jacket hung over the back of the chair. Hostler missing its revolver. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he rested his free elbow on his knee. He’s been here for a while, waiting for you to wake up. 

“What happened?” you bleated out, throat burning, raising your free hand to your aching neck. 

His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet momentarily. As his tongue clicked, he leant closer to you, shaking his head only by an inch. 

He wore his usual grey suit, too clean for this place. His jacket draped over the chair, holster empty. Sleeves rolled up as he rested an elbow on his knee.

“You hit your head, darling,” Tommy said with a soft chuckle, eyes fixed on the fresh white bandage.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you blinked slowly. With your eyes shifting towards the door, his followed, you cleared your throat. 

“I need the doctor” you stated, licking your cracked lips once more. 

“We need to talk first” Tommy sighed loudly, letting go of your hand. He plucked a cigarette on the bedside table. Followed by rolling the end between his lips, he looked back to ensure the window was open. 

“Talk?” your reply was delayed, voice full of wonder, brows scrunched together. 

Tommy snickered as he lit the tobacco and inhaled deeply. Looking you dead in the eye, you felt your heartbeat rise with anticipation. But then a demanding thought bursted through your mind as he began to speak. 

“Yes, I need to know if you’re going to-”

“Where’s Eli?” you questioned urgently, tone dripping of worry and yearning. 

“Pardon?” Tommy frowned suddenly, the lit stick hanging from his lip. 

Your heart pumped blood rapidly through your veins, you craved Eli’s presence. How long have you been out? Had this been why Tommy is here, to watch over you while Eli was still away. The sadness grew inside of you, you wished Eli was the one that held your hand during all of this perplexity. 

“Where is Eli? Is he coming? Please, tell me”” you gulped, blinking your teary eyes towards him. 

“Darling…” The stone expression gave you no comfort, no assurance, no hope. 

“Thomas? Where’s Eli?” you quaked as you tried to decipher his stern expression.

“What do you remember last?” he spoke blankly and slowly. 

“Where’s Eli? The nurse? I want the doctor, Thomas!” you shuddered, panic rising, your skin crawling.

The words became muffled, your limbs began to tremble, your chest rose and dropped like waves in the deep sea. Tommy’s dark eyes analysed every reaction. He pressed the back of his hand to your heated forehead, your throat closing in. 

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping the flame out immediately, his face moved much closer to yours. 

“Aye, calm down now sweetheart, we need to talk, remember?” Tommy cooed, his fingers rubbed your sore jaw as he stared into your watery eyes.

“Why are you here Thomas?” you blubbered, voice hollow and scared. 

“What do you mean?” he sighed, holding onto his patience and tranquility. 

Staring into his dark eyes, you tried to find peace in the situation. It wasn’t ordinary for people to wake up to their beloved’s best friend. Especially considering your tainted relationship with Tommy that you desperately wanted to obliterate from existence. 

But the fact that he was here, and not him, sat uneasy in your stomach. Had you done the unbelievable, the unforgivable on multiple ends? Had the ugly truth finally shone in the light. 

“Why are you here, where’s Eli?” you repeat yourself with swelling eyes and trembling lips. 

Another sigh left Tommy’s lips. His hand moved up to your flustered cheek, his eyes low as he admired the skin on your face. 

“My love, just breathe and tell me, what do you last remember, eh?” Tommy spoke calmly. 

You frowned in thought. All of your memories jumbled like you were trapped in a spider’s web. There was no straight line for you to follow. The gears were cranking behind Tommy’s eyes as he waited in anticipation. 

“I-I don’t know, just looking after Charlie” you huffed out, a click left his tongue. 

“Think harder now” he spoke more firmly, ready to be more assertive to get his questions answered. 

You whined in frustration, your throat completely parched. Swaying your head around, you tried to find steady breathing, something to hold onto. One hand massaged your shoulder while the other squeezed your hand tightly. You looked towards him, the rare gentleness beamed in his orbs. Some clarity finally came to your clouded mind.

“Uh, I’ve been at Arrow House for only a few weeks” you answered, relieved that the confusion was finally fading away. 

It went unnoticed with how Tommy’s eyes widened momentarily. As the room turned silent, the only sounds being the humming light and drowned sounds of the city outside, your small moment of peace vanished as you looked back over to him. His expression wasn’t warm. There was something wrong, horribly wrong. 

“Only a few weeks, eh?” Tommy nodded gently, mouth ajar open, his crowded lower teeth showing. 

“What day is it, Thomas?” you hesitated. 

“Perhaps we should get that doctor in” Tommy mumbled as he abruptly stood up, fixing his pants with a rough tug on the waistband. 

You repeated his name in a shaky tone as he strides towards the door. His stance firm, mind moving a lot quicker than his feet. Ignoring your pleas, your hands smacked against the mattress in frustration. 

“Thomas! What day is it!” you demanded, lunging your upper body forward, your lunges heaving in your chest, razor blades running up and down your throat. 

Stubbornly, he kept his eyes pointed onwards, shaking his head at your puny orders. 

“I need to speak to the doctor first” he said vigorously. 

“Dammit! What fucking day is it!” you shouted, your dry throat ached as you fell back onto the bed, defeated. 

His hand rested on the doorknob, his head hung down as he debated on what to do. Turning his head back, he looked at you in pity, caving in easily. 

“August thirteenth, nineteen-thirty-four” he answered. 

It took a long time for you to process his words. Your mind melted into goo and all you could do was feel your heartbeat in a slow rhythm. As the realisation finally snapped in your head, you shook your head in denial. Mouth completely wordless as you narrowed your eyes at Tommy. 

“No, that’s not right…” you whispered.  

Suddenly, your vision cleared as if there was a glossy piece of glass in front of you and Tommy looked different. Now, he didn’t look old, but certainly aged. Like maturing a barrel of whisky. At the top of his head, his hair was grown out a lot more, the front strains fringed around his forehead, the sides evenly shaved. His face had a few more cuts here and there. All of them healed up. His eyes widened as you suddenly choked on your sob. 

“Where’s Eli! Please get a hold of him for me!” you begged pathetically, desperate for Eli to make this make sense 

Tommy blinked as your lungs turned to stone, a panic attack pumping through your blood, on a mission to conquer every inch of your body. His jaw clenched, still yet to blink. 

“Eli isn’t coming, darling” he replied, flat. 

“What?” you gasped silently. 

“I don’t think it’s best for me to tell you too much yet, let me get you that doctor” Tommy nodded, his hand reaching back for the knob. 

“I want Eli, Tommy! Call Eli! Tell him I’m sorry!” you pleaded, even trying to crawl out of the bed, but your lower body ached in agony, you whined out in pain. 

Tommy huffed out under his breath and he approached you. Gently, his hands rested on your biceps, pressing you flat on the bed, pinning your hands at your sides. Brokenly, you allowed him to do so. A flash of sympathy appeared in his eyes. 

“Just breathe, I’ll get the nurse to give you something for your state eh?” Tommy suggested as his body hovered back. 

“Don’t leave me Thomas” you cried, your desperate hands latched onto his shoulders.

His throat swelled as his eyes locked onto your trembling hands. He didn’t hesitate. Slowly, he climbed onto the small bed and wrapped his body around yours like a blanket. You cried into his chest, your body trembled like a delicate flower in the wind. Tommy hummed as he relaxed on the thin bed. Eager to calm you.  

“There, there” he cooed, shifting his hips around slightly to get comfy. “Breathe, you’ll be alright” he whispered as you quietly sobbed into his chest. “You must be so tired, aye?” he murmured, molding his body into yours. 

This was all he wanted, to comfort you, hold you, to take care of you. His soothing words went muffled by your ears, expression unphased. 

Rubbing your dripping nose into his shirt, your tired eyes fell shut. Desperate to wake up from this living nightmare. 

Tommy exhaled and clicked his tongue, his calculating mind turning the cranks once more. He caressed your heated face as he murmured your name. Your breathing eased, grip softened as you fell into a blank state of mind. Tommy breathed silently, rubbing your flustered cheeks.

When you came back to consciousness, Tommy stood by the door with the doctor. His stance was stern like usual. Their words were muffled, all jumbled up in your head, but you could feel his dark eyes through your blurred vision. 

You mumbled out words, shifted your body as you gently moaned. The conversation came to a halt, both of them slowly approached you. 

“Finally awake then my dear?” the doctor smiled gently. “Took quite a fall to the head” he pointed, looking over the bandage. 

You felt calmer. You looked up to the IV drip, a fresh bag connected up. Feeling the soft texture of the white material, you lowered your hand from your face and looked up to them both. 

“What happened to me?” you questioned softly, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders. 

“You had a bit too much to drink and slipped on your gown” the doctor reassured, petting your shoulder gently like you’re a child being looked over for scraping their knee on the gravel. 

“Hit the cased opening” Tommy clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers over the opposite forearms.

Your eyes shot to Tommy. His expression was neutral but there was something dancing in his eyes, the suspicious unavoidable. 

“Why don’t I remember anything” you returned your attention to the doctor.  

“Given your symptoms, your condition is post traumatic amnesia. Since you took such a severe hit to the head, you’ve managed to forget quite a bit of time…” he exhaled. Your breathing shuddered instantly. “All should return in due time” he assured, his shoulders raised as if he could feel the sharp daggers in Tommy’s eyes. “Now you might have trouble storing new memories” he mentioned. 

“I remember waking up to Thomas” you gradually replied. 

“Good, that's a good sign” he smiled softly. 

Doctor Stephens only talked for a little while longer. Very simple terms, most likely for your condition. But you couldn’t help but to feel like a child. Tommy watched the words slip from his crinkling lips. Noticing the way his lips would quiver if you asked too clever of a question. 

You stared at Tommy, his best friend, his brother. Had you destroyed their foundation completely? You felt sick. Not from pain, from the possibility of what you’d done. 

He watched you back, with those dark, charming eyes of his. How easy was it for you to be hypnotized? Did he even have to cast a spell on you, or was it your own free will. Were you tempted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit, too greedy on its costly taste. 

But yet again, where were all of the disgusted, bothered and belittling comments from him? The harsh words he whispered into your ear when people were watching. His rough, dominating hands that made you feel weak. The massive portrait of how much of a burden you were. How badly of a whore you were. 

The temperamental man was dangerously cool. 

Why was the Thomas Shelby here, waiting for you to wake up? 

“How long will it last?” Tommy whispered by the open door, Doctor Stephens blocked out of your view. 

Your wandering, curious eyes poked around, hoping to read lips. But no face was in sight, only the back of Tommy’s head. 

“It depends really, Mr Shelby, it could be days, weeks, months…” he answered unsurely. 

Tommy went silent for a moment, nodding his head as his eyes looked over his shoulder to you. A complete damsel in distress. It brought a softness to his face. 

“Is it possible to be permanent?” he inquired. 

Initially, the doctor laughed. But as he noticed the seriousness in his eyes, he cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt. 

“Depends how severe the trauma was” he answered, a hint of regret for even speaking in such conversation. 

But if Tommy Shelby wanted to talk, you’d better have your words clear. A deep breath left his lips, his shoe clinked on the floorboards as he closed in the distance. 

“When will you know?” Tommy quietly replied. Doctor Stephen’s throat tightened as Tommy loomed over him.  

“Mr Shelby-”

“Thomas” you whined, squirming your aching limbs in the bed, anxious thoughts filling your stomach to the tipping point. 

“Bring in the nurse to help ease her stresses, eh?” Tommy ordered. Doctor Stephens slowly nodded his head. “We’ll talk later” Tommy abruptly ended the conversation before slamming the door shut. 

He tilted his head at you, your heart was pounding again, you thought that you’d soon forget how to breathe. 

“Hey, have some water and just take it easy” Tommy ghosted a smile, pouring you a fresh glass. 

You took a few gulps, hissing at the pain in your throat. 

“Thomas” you gulped, your hand latched onto his. 

You were too desperate for any form of comfort to consider the consequences. Quickly, Tommy climbed back onto the bed and took you into his arms. You heaved out and buried your face into his chest. Mood swings, a common symptom of your condition. 

“Nothing to stress about. Probably just something mild, you’re still very confused. That brain just 

hasn’t fully woken up yet” he chuckled gently. 

For a few minutes, you both laid there in silence, enjoying the calmness before one of the eventual storms. The nurse quickly came and assisted you with a couple of pills. Soon the effects came into play, your body relaxed as you laid on the pillows. Tommy rested back on the seat, brushing his hand through his oiling hair. 

Hesitantly, you looked up to Tommy. Who looked down to you within a blink of the eye. 

“Is Eli coming?” you spoke in hushed tones, half of your face hidden by the pillow. 

Tommy blinked slowly, leant forward and took your cheek in his rough hand. “Remember what I told you?” he whispered, not cruel, yet not kind. 

“I-uh…” you grumbled in defeat. 

“Need you to rest up first, before we talk, alright?” he explained, a smile split through his lips. 

You felt the metal on his left hand as he caressed your face. Your eyes furrowed as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and tugged his hand back.

The gold band around his ring finger shined, his fingers rubbed over the sacred material as he cleared his throat. Yes, some would determine him as a widower, but never had you seen him cherish his past fiancee. His wedding finger was always bare. 

The pieces all fell together, forcing them into place in your mind. Tommy’s eyes flickered from yours to his ring finger. A knowing smile grew ever so slightly on his lips as he returned his gaze to you. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he fetched another cigarette, careless of how close you were to one another.

“Why are you here?”

But then you properly looked at your own ring finger. The diamond that sparkled was not the one that Eli promised you with, but another two. These were bigger, more grand. He lit another cigarette, turned his head to the side and puffed out the ball of smoke. 

“Because my darling” he exhaled, raising his hands besides yours, pressing the rings together. 

And as the weight of that ring settled on your finger, you realised… Whatever life you’d forgotten, it wasn’t yours anymore.

Birmingham wasn’t like you remembered—though you never thought highly of it to begin with. Not that you had many memories of the decaying, brimstone city. The clouds felt heavier now, the sun dim and withdrawn, hiding behind a wall of thick grey. And yet again, you found yourself confined in a small room. Like a creature trapped in a cage, covered by a sheet so no one would have to look too closely.

No familiar faces had crossed your path during your stay at Birmingham Hospital—just the rotating nurses, stern doctors, and, of course, Tommy. He remained beside you the entire time. Sleeping stiffly in the too-small chair, answering your needs with respectful concern. But you could feel it—the tightrope tension wrapped in his care. He didn’t want to be questioned. There was an invisible barrier. Whenever you tried to press him, he would feign deafness. “All for your recovery,” he liked to say.

You were being discharged tomorrow. From one prison to another.

That night, sleep clung to you like sweat, dragging you into a restless haze. The air in your mind was thick with confusion. Unfamiliar voices, flashing images, and fractured memories haunted you like ghosts. It was violent, you knew that. You didn’t need the full picture to feel the truth in your bones. Something had happened—something awful.

You screamed in your dream, but no sound came. You were ripped apart in silence.

And worst of all—after everything—there was Eli.

You turned your head, searching for Tommy’s presence. He was still there. Asleep, his features softened in a way you rarely saw. Bathed in moonlight, he looked... peaceful. A form of him he never showed you while awake. A version you weren't sure you trusted.

“Sleep, my love” said a voice in the dark—deep like Tommy’s, but smooth and warm like Eli’s. Familiar and haunting all at once.

Eventually, your mind let go. And you fell into that dangerous sleep again.

Tommy lit a cigarette quietly, the orange tip glowing in the low light. He tapped his fingers on his knee in rhythm—thinking. Always calculating. Always planning.

He watched you through the dark, his chest rising and falling slowly, eyes sharp even in half-shadow. When sleep finally pulled him under, it was warm. He smiled.

He dreamt of you.

When you woke the next morning, he was gone.

The windows were open. The cold smell of Small Heath crept in and settled on your skin like ash. You sat up slowly, your bare feet cringing at the icy floor. Peering outside, you watched a couple walking down the street. Laughing. Side by side. Young. Free.

You shut the window with a slam.

The door swung open. Tommy entered, already dressed in a pristine grey suit. His presence filled the room like smoke. His hands on his hips, his brows knit.

“What are you doing out of bed, eh?” he asked, eyes sweeping over you.

“It smells horrible out there” you muttered, turning away from him.

“I can’t smell anything” he replied, sniffing the air with a confused frown. He stepped forward, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead.

You blinked up at him, eyes meeting.

“You’re from here, Tommy. You’d be immune to it by now” you countered, pulling your head back just enough to break the contact.

“Now, don’t be thinking you’re above me, yeah? You’re from Cambridge. I’ve been there enough to know that smell ain’t all fresh roses either” he chuckled, a gentle smile pulling at his lips.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to cheer you up or put you down. He was like a painting without an artist—open to interpretation, eternally unreadable.

“I want to leave” you said quietly, eyes cast downward.

Tommy stepped closer, careful with your space. His hands found your wrists, his head tilting gently toward yours.

“We can go, my darling. I’ll take you home”

“Home?” you echoed, voice delicate. Hopeful.

“Yes. Home” he repeated, but this time his voice was firmer.

Your heart sank. Of course, he didn’t mean your home. He meant Arrow House. Cold, isolated, echoing with the ghosts of your past. A house that felt more like a cage than a sanctuary.

He saw the shift in your eyes—the disappointment. But no guilt crossed his features.

“We’ll get you dressed, get something in your stomach. Then we’ll go” he nodded. His grip on your hands remained soft. Reassuring.

You stood still, unspeaking.

“I’m sure Charlie misses you terribly” he added gently. “Mary says he’s been struggling to sleep. Like his father, I suppose”

He tried to sound playful. Warm. But the words only scorched your chest.

“I want to know, Tommy”

He paused. “Know what?”

“I want to know everything”

Tommy sighed, reached for a cigarette—but before he could light it, you snapped.

“I want to know what happened to me!”

You shoved him hard. The cigarette dropped to the floor as he stumbled back, momentarily caught off guard. The tension cracked, thunder inside your skull.

He reached for you, but you slapped his hand away.

“Hey! Calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you, darling. I promise—I would never hurt you”

But you were already breaking. Hands gripping your arms, body trembling, eyes wild. You sank to the floor, breathless.

“I just want to know, Tommy!” you begged, voice cracking, tears slipping free.

He was on you instantly—catching you before you fully collapsed. Wrapping you in his arms.

“You will” he whispered into your ear. “I’ll tell you everything. But not here. Not yet”

“It’s killing me”

“I know”

He held you tightly as you cried. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t fight his embrace.

“Have you taken your medication?”

“Tommy…”

“Head hurting again, aye?”

“…Yes”

He helped you to the bed. In silence, he poured water and offered your pills. You took them. No questions. No more strength to protest.

The knock came. The doctor entered with a smile. “Let’s get you out of here, my dear…”

After the Doctor left with a content smile, Tommy waited outside of the room.

As you dressed behind the curtain, you clenched the maroon dress in your hands. The fabric felt foreign against your skin. When you looked in the mirror, you didn’t recognise the woman staring back. It dwelled over your chest.

You stepped out. Tommy was there, waiting, as he promised. Holding your small bundle of belongings.

He gave you a half-smile, held out his hand.

You didn’t take it—but you walked beside him.

The sun hit you with bitter warmth as you stepped outside. He opened the car door for you, helped you in gently. The drive began.

You watched the ring on your finger. That symbol of eternity. That cage.

You hadn’t taken it off.

Maybe you were afraid of how he’d react.

Maybe, worse…

You didn’t want to.

The ride opened up your mind, dug through your deepest memories and thoughts. Tommy was silent, letting your mind run free whilst still in arms’ reach.

Like an annoying fly, your mother’s voice buzzed relentlessly through your mind. Sharp, cold, never kind. She loved your father with a fierce, unyielding passion, a faded version of that to your younger siblings, but for you? There was only resentment, barely hidden beneath forced smiles and icy glances.

You were born after Harry, her firstborn—the child she poured all her hopes into before the loss shattered her. To her, you were the reminder of what was gone, the second-born shadow that somehow deepened her grief. It was as if your arrival reopened wounds she refused to heal, and she held that against you every day of your life.

She never welcomed you. You were always the outsider in your own home, the one who could never measure up to the ghost of Harry. Her laughter was harsh, her words laced with bitterness. Love, to her, was a cruel joke… Just a chain dragging one soul from one hell to the next.. And yet, despite it all, she always insisted you stay close—never wanting you truly to leave her sight, as if she feared losing you even while pushing you away.

So you were caught in that endless cycle.

Your father, in contrast, was your quiet sanctuary. He tried—God, how he tried, to shield you from her coldness. You often wondered how he endured her sharp words and biting glances, how he let her treat you as if you were the problem. “She doesn’t mean what she says” he whispered to you, voice heavy with sorrow, “the death of a child is a never healing wound”.

When Harry was born, there was no joyful cry—only silence. That silence swallowed her spirit whole. It was a dagger deep in the back, and when you came after, it felt as if she blamed you for the empty space in her heart. You were born into grief, and her bitterness wrapped around you like a cold shroud.

A part of you despised your father for turning blind eyes, for allowing the privileges of your younger siblings while you suffered in silence. His love wasn’t enough, even though he gave you more than he had. Your grudges were silent, but brutal, how unfortunate it was when you sat by his deathbed.

The regret and guilt that weighed heavy on your chest. The wish to have her in that bed instead. Everyone knew she deserved it.

You had always longed to prove her wrong. When Eli came into your life, you finally saw a chance… A fragile hope that love could still exist beyond pain and resentment. That maybe, just maybe, you could rewrite the story your mother had written for you.

Six minutes from Arrow House, the clock in your mind ticked relentlessly. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The manor appeared through the trees. Your breath caught, a cold knot tightening in your chest. The vehicle rolled past the iron gates, gravel crunching beneath the tyres, the long driveway flanked by manicured lawns and silent gardens—beautiful but utterly cold.

You blinked, trying to memorize every detail: the symmetrical Victorian facade, the faded bricks stained by time, the chimneys like silent sentinels against the sky. You counted the curtains drawn open, a faint sign of life and maybe, of welcome.

Crossing the narrow stone bridge over the rushing river, your fingers bit down on your nail, a nervous habit you hadn’t broken. The entry court came into view. Three figures stood at the door, a young lad, an older man, and an older woman whose name hovered just out of reach. You should have remembered her. Should have.

Your face pressed against the window as you stared up at the manor. Grand, historic, soaked in wealth, but colder than the bleakest winter morning. Isolation clung to it like a second skin, a fortress built as much to keep others out as to keep yourself in.

There was no other estate for miles. And in that moment, you wished you had stayed in the hospital instead.

Tommy’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts.

“Darling? Are you okay?” His eyes searched yours, soft with concern.

You gasped and turned toward him. For a fleeting moment, he looked innocent—relieved to be home, his mind finally at peace. The usual hardness softened by a rare tenderness you ached to see more often.

His rough hand found yours. The cold touch sparked a small, fragile warmth deep inside you. You looked down, then back up, locking eyes.

“Let’s get you inside, my love,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your skin.

“Okay, Tommy,” you whispered back, nodding slowly.

He opened your door, extending his hand. After a brief hesitation, you took it.

The cold breeze brushed your skin and made you shiver. Tommy smiled gently and guided you forward.

Three pairs of eyes watched you approach, three polite smiles greeting you—nods that welcomed you inside, into a place called home.

But you knew better.

Home was never what it seemed. It was a cage built of memories, wounds, and quiet resentments.

And you were trapped inside.

BEFORE

England was always known for its gloomy days. But today was different, the sun kissed your tender skin as you laid back into your seat. The two of you hummed a song as admired the cows lazing around the paddocks. Flocks of geese soared by the passing lake, their squawks echoed into the open sky. The city slowly came alive in the distance. Your eyes widened, lips peeled as you observed the city he told you so many stories within.

His broad hand rested on your knee as you looked over to him. A contagious blush infested your cheeks, the both of you feel sparks in your chest. You place your hand on his, and gaze upon your ring. The blooming gold compelled your eyes. You could see it all, feel it all. Soon you would have it all.

“We’ll be in Small Heath shortly, my love. I’m sure you’ll love it. I can’t wait to show you everywhere. Especially that secluded spot under the bridge…” he hummed, resisting the urge to bite his lower lip.

Your eyes darted over to him, narrowing. “None of that, I’m your fiancee, not your wife. And definitely not a whore” you played along, holding a blank face and keeping your chin tilted up.

“Right. So that wasn’t you in the hotel this morning? Back arched, mouth open, begging me to–”

“Eli” you warned, heat rising in your cheeks, trying to suppress a grin.

He laughed, hand sliding up your thigh before you pushed it back down. The car swerved a little with his distraction, and your laughter broke through the quiet.

“Keep your eyes on the road before we end up in a ditch!” you warned.

“Relax darling, I’ll never let anything happen to you”

His words were ink and paper. Always holding true to his word, never faltering from a promise as he cared too much of his reputation, of his future.

Elias ‘Eli’ Walsh was a total catch, through and through.

With his sharp jawline, piercing green eyes, and dark hair that always seemed effortlessly tousled just right, he carried the kind of confidence that turned heads without trying.

Growing up in Small Heath had given him grit and fire, but it was the war that carved steel into his bones. The effects left him more solemn, sharper, the kind of man who didn’t waste words and never forgot what pain could cost you. However, the damaging experience gave Eli one satisfaction, his hunger for triumph. The years navigating the cutthroat world of politics had polished him into something even sharper. Calm, controlled, and utterly captivating.

But it wasn’t just his looks or ambition that drew you in. Sitting beside him in the quiet hum of the car, you felt the steady warmth of his hand enclosing yours, a silent promise that steadied the chaos inside you.

Behind that confident exterior was a softness reserved only for you. A quiet understanding born from shared history and unspoken truths. Eli didn’t just see you, he understood you. He saw the future you desired in your eyes and knew that he could provide that for you.

The sun rays beamed through the swaying clouds, glowing over his strong features. There was a steadiness to him, a sense of purpose that grounded you in ways you hadn’t known she needed. Unlike the restless darkness that clung to other parts of your past, with Eli there was honesty. A clear front and an open heart. His role as a rising politician meant his life was public and pressured, but with you, he showed a vulnerability few ever saw.

You glanced over, catching the faintest curve of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It was subtle, but it spoke volumes. A quiet reassurance that you were wanted, you were loved. Looking back down to your ring, your cheeks heated. Soon, the ring on your finger would be more than a promise. It would be a vow, a new chapter bound in shared dreams and unwavering trust.

There with little to no time spent exploring Small Heath. As soon as you entered your hotel room, Eli made damn sure neither of you would be getting out of bed anytime soon. His body always felt familiar, close, and secure.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him inside of you as he showed you how badly he loved you. His face dripping of sweat, eyes blown with desire and mouth yearning for you. Sparks trailed up his back as you dragged your nails around his soft skin. There was something about his touch that felt unreal, as if he’d used his Gypsy powers to get under your skin and play you like an instrument.

As you both laid there, beat and satisfied, Eli kept you locked in his eyes. Murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as you stared out the window, inspecting the brick buildings across the road. Your hands interlocked with his, your tired eyes grew heavier by the second. Blissfully, you both fell asleep at the same time.

When your eyes opened again, the sun had already set. Eli pressed multiple kisses to your lips to wake you up. You grumbled out, stretching your stiff limbs as Eli slipped out of the bed. The bedside lamps were on, you shifted your upper body upright and ran your hand through your hair. Throwing his outfit onto the single lounge chair, Eli looked back to you.

“Come on now, we’re extremely late” Eli smiled, shifting his eyes to the clock on the wall.

Glancing over to the time, you yawned. Just past 9pm, and you were already aching to be back in Eli’s arms. “Late for what again?” you asked, draping your legs over the edge, your feet pressed into the carpet.

“The Garrison” Eli nodded, his tone sharp.

“Which is?” you wondered, reaching for the first dress in your luggage.

Eli chuckled, memories flashing through his mind. You silently laughed, stepping into the ensuite as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

“Only the best bar in all of England. When I was a young lad, I’d nick a few coins off my old man and go to The Garrison with my mates! Hell, he’d smell the alcohol on me when I’d get home and I’d get a beating” Eli recounted, his voice full of passion and hilarity.

“I hope that taught you a valuable lesson” you quipped, splashing the cold water on your face to get rid of the remaining makeup.

“It did! I got smarter and stopped going home! Would stay at Watery Lane for the night, or two…” Eli bantered, buttoning up his shirt as he still snickered at the flashes of his youth. “The Shelby’s… They’re special to me, my love! My second family”

“Ah yes, the infamous Tommy Shelby, the man I’ve heard so much about…” you hummed, half-teasing.

Eli had painted a vivid picture of him — always with a drink in hand. War hero. Business mogul. Womanizer. King of Birmingham. A legend, always lurking behind someone else’s story.

“I saw Rose the other morning” you added, smoothing your sleeve.

He barely reacted. “Yeah?”

“She called him the Devil”

You laughed, careless, not noticing the way Eli’s mouth twitched — just slightly — like a muscle reacting to an old bruise. A grunt followed, low and sharp. Not quite amused. Not quite a warning.

“You’ve really never heard of the Shelbys?”

“Should I?” you replied, unbothered.

Eli didn’t answer right away. A flicker passed behind his eyes, not fear, but calculation. He crossed the room with deliberate ease, refilling his glass with the good stuff, the sound of the pour too loud in the quiet.

You slipped into your v-neck blue dress, the bow at your waist neatly tied. You ran your hands over the fabric with a flick of vanity — earned vanity. Eli adjusted his tie, his vest snug across his chest, before stepping behind you.

His hands wrapped around your waist, warm and firm, his breath brushing your ear.

“Why’re you putting all that on, eh?” he murmured, hand brushing over your fresh makeup. “You don’t need it”

You smirked, lining your lips in the mirror. “Please. If I showed up plain-faced, you’d have vanished before the waiter brought bread.”

His smile sharpened into something hungry. “You had me the second you rolled your eyes at me. And now look at you” he said, dragging his hands down your hips like punctuation. “Dangerous”

He tapped your hip twice and stepped back to find his shoes.

“You need to fix your hair, Eli!” you called after him, brushing your own one last time.

The walk to The Garrison was short, but charged. Normally, the city felt sharp at night — lights too bright, shadows too deep. But Eli’s arm was threaded tightly through yours, and he carried himself like he was the one people should be afraid of.

Still… there was something stiff in his posture. Less rhythm, more purpose. Like his mind was already ten steps into the room.

You tilted your head to study him, but he spoke first.

“The Garrison’s not exactly Buckingham Palace” he said with a lopsided grin. “But it’s got charm. Old wood. Bad lighting. Smoke-stained ceilings. Deals that never leave the backroom”

You chuckled, and your grip on his arm tightened.

Just before the door, Eli stopped dead. His eyes scanned the windows, where flickers of amber light and the echo of shouting signaled life inside.

You reached for his wrist. “You okay?”

He didn’t look at you. “I just want to prep you” he said finally, voice lower now, like he was switching gears. “The Shelbys… they’re larger than life. Scary to most people. But I don’t want you scared. Not in there. Not of him”

You frowned. “Is this about what Rose said? The Devil line?”

Eli scoffed. “Tommy?” He finally looked at you. “He’s a myth wrapped in a suit. Dangerous, sure — if you let him be. He plays gangster. I play chess”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he stared at the entrance like it might open on its own.

“He’ll size you up the second we walk in. Measure what matters to me. So stand tall, love — and just remember whose hand you’re holding”

“Eli, I know”

“He’s dangerous” Eli repeated. “But only for the wrong people”

You rolled your eyes. “You forget, I’ve met gangsters. My cousins run worse”

“Then you’ll survive this just fine” his voice was soft, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You tilted your chin. “Eli… what aren’t you telling me?”

He paused. That smirk again, too casual.

“They’re performers, all of them. Smoke and mirrors. If you hear anything about me tonight — from them — don’t take it to heart” He brushed a strand of hair from your cheek. “It’s all theatre”

Something about his voice held too much certainty. Like he’d rehearsed that line.

“Tommy’s not what he used to be,” he said, jaw flexing. “He’s powerful, sure. But he’s a relic. Old rules. Old threats. I’ve built something different. Something clean — for us”

He leaned in, his hand brushing your cheek with unsettling tenderness.His words had weight now, pride swelling in his chest like armor.

“He doesn’t intimidate me. So don’t let him intimidate you”

There was a quiet command behind the words. Not comfort — control.

Before you could speak, Eli straightened, his mouth set into a smile that didn’t belong to you, and opened the door.

The pub was a symphony of chaos — drunken lads shouting over one another, glasses clinking, laughter rising above the din. The taps were pulled with a rhythmic urgency, foaming amber pouring faster than it could be served. And in the middle of it all, Eli grinned like a king stepping back into his court.

“Ah! Eli lad! ’Bout fookin’ time you’re here!” Arthur bellowed, barreling through the crowd like a bull.

Eli let go of you, arms already outstretched, his laugh deep and unfiltered. The two men collided in a rough embrace, Arthur’s pat on the back more of a blow. The scent of whisky hung on him like cologne.

“Arthur, my friend” Eli said, giving him a long look, appraising him the way a politician sizes up a rival across the aisle. “Still breathing, I see”

Arthur chuckled, fixing his suit like it ever mattered. “Still handsome, aren’t you? Parliament’s polishing you well”

“Can’t polish what was already gold” Eli quipped, sharp and easy.

“Yeah, he’s got that gypsy charm” a younger voice added, teasing.

John Shelby stepped into view, his smirk boyish but calculated. The resemblance to his brothers was uncanny — the same cut suit, the same air of trouble dressed in silk.

Eli pulled him into a swift hug, clapping his back. “You’ve grown into your boots, John. I like it”

Arthur’s eyes wandered toward you, and with that familiar grin, he threw his arms wide. “And this must be the infamous girl! Come here then” He wrapped you in a hug that smelled of smoke and age-old liquor. “Arthur Shelby. If this one ever steps out of line, you tell me first, yeah?”

You laughed, introducing yourself, but before you could answer, Arthur waved a hand. “No need. We know the name. Fitting, that one”

“Alright, alright — hands off” Eli cut in, stepping in between, a smile on his lips but a warning behind his eyes. His hand settled on your waist, thumb brushing a firm arc against your hip. “She’s spoken for. Fully and thoroughly”

“Relax, mate. We’re complimenting, not recruiting” John said, throwing his hands up.

“Where’s Tom?” Eli asked, eyes sweeping the crowd with a barely concealed purpose. The question sounded casual, but you felt the shift in him — a slight tensing, as though ready for a performance to begin.

“Dragged off for some business thing. Usual” Arthur shrugged.

“Can’t be too important if the cavalry’s already in here” Eli said, his smirk returning like it never left.

“Exactly why we weren’t invited” John grinned. “Didn’t want blood on the good carpet. He’ll be back”

“Let’s drink while the mood’s still light” Eli said smoothly, guiding the group toward the bar with his arm still wrapped around you.

“What’s the lady having?” Arthur asked, projecting his voice toward the bar.

“A gin and tonic, please on the rocks” you replied, meeting the exhausted eyes of the bartender.

Arthur ordered three double whiskeys — neat.

“Barry” he added, pointing at you and Eli. “These two, always on the house”

“Yes, Mr. Shelby” Barry nodded, eyes fixed somewhere far below eye level.

Glasses were poured quickly, hands flying, sweat beading down Barry’s temple. Arthur motioned the group toward the private room — a smaller, claustrophobic room marked with the unmistakable flair of the Blinders: faded walls, wood grain scarred by years of fists and fire.

Arthur and John dropped into their seats like soldiers off duty. Eli followed, settling in with the practiced ease of someone who’d held court here before. You ended up between him and John — not quite trapped, but placed.

The whiskey flowed. Fast. Too fast.

You weren’t counting anymore. Just watching.

Eli was in his element — animated, theatrical, talking too fast and too loud. But underneath it all was something simmering. Something too sharp to be just drunken joy. His cheeks were red, sure, but there was precision in how he nudged the conversation, where his gaze lingered, how often his hand found your knee, your hip, your back.

He wasn’t drunk. Not really.

“The seat in parliament? I earned that” Eli snapped when John teased him. “I’ve dealt with worse men than Tommy to get there” he assured, reflecting on his business with Americans.

He downed his drink, slamming it to the table harder than necessary. “The difference is — I’ll still be standing when they’re all underground”

Arthur banged the table between laughs, sending the drinks splashing over their rims. John had barely touched his fifth glass before Eli reached across the room, flung open the small door to the bar, and barked toward the counter.

“Another for her” he said, pointing at you with his thumb, smiling wide.

“Eli” you warned. “Manners”

He grinned over his shoulder, careless and boyish. “Barry knows what I mean”

The Shelby brothers chuckled, lounging back like wolves full from the hunt. Barry returned, glass in hand.

Eli took it — and frowned.

“Aye, where’s her ice?” he asked, turning the glass with a tilt. “She likes it on the rocks”

“It’s fine, thank you” you interjected, your hand brushing his as you took the glass. Your smile softened the moment, but not enough to disguise the flicker in his eyes. Control, briefly lost.

His frustration ebbed the moment his eyes locked with yours. He sat again, pulling you slightly closer, and placed a kiss on your temple. The scent of whiskey hung on his breath, but the kiss was light. Measured.

John leaned back, nursing the end of his drink. “You know, Eli, the suit’s alright. But you always looked better in a cap”

Eli smirked. “Still got it. Some things don’t change”

“There’s always a spot for you, you know” John said, raising his glass before downing it.

“John” Arthur muttered, not quite a warning, more of a reminder.

You caught it. So did Eli.

Your brow furrowed, instinctively looking at him — but Eli didn’t meet your gaze. He stared down into his drink, his thumb tapping softly against the glass. A rhythm. A calculation.

He was playing a part.

And you were unaware of what game was at play.

The door creaked open. The muffled roar of the main room gusted in, dragging the stale scent of smoke and spilled liquor with it.

Your gaze snapped to the sound.

Time stilled.

He stood there, still as stone, sharp as a blade — framed by the doorway like a ghost from a fever dream. A hand-sewn grey suit hung cleanly off his lean figure, shoulders squared, drink in hand. But it was the eyes that stopped you cold.

Those bright, pale blue eyes. They caught yours and didn’t blink.

Your lungs forgot what to do. Your chest hollowed, pulse thrumming against your ribs so loudly it drowned out the laughter in the room. He didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He just looked — that look no one should give in public, the kind that strips you clean.

You knew him.

But you prayed it wasn’t him.

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with an unceremonious thud. A quiet move, but it felt like a gun going off.

The others hadn’t noticed him yet. But he saw you — all of you — and when his eyes slid down and back up again, it wasn’t desire. It was memory. Ownership. Warning.

Then, finally, Eli stood — voice loud, energy burning.

“Brother!” Eli beamed, arms wide as he closed the distance.

Tommy let him, greeting him with one hand while the other protected his drink like it held secrets. He clapped Eli’s back once, then moved past him without fanfare, taking a seat beside Arthur.

Eli, buzzing, flung the bar window open again, demanding another round. But the moment he sat back down, he remembered you — and the man now sitting across from you.

“Tommy! This is my fiancée” Eli beamed, pride swelling in his voice.

But Tommy only clicked his tongue, sharp, disapproving. Like Eli had just dragged nails across a chalkboard.

He said your name himself, low and deliberate, as if tasting something bitter.

You froze.

It wasn’t a greeting.

It was a warning. A claim.

“You look like you charge by the hour” he said coolly.

The room stilled.

No laughter followed.

Eli blinked, thrown for half a second. Then, with a light chuckle and a stiff jaw, he opened his mouth.

“She’s worth every bloody penny”

It was meant to land like a joke, but it didn’t. The edge in his voice betrayed him.

“Tommy Shelby” he added quickly — no handshake, no warmth, just the name like a sentence.

You nodded with a forced smile, your gut coiling. Tommy raised his glass, drained it in a single, silent pull, and looked away.

Beside you, Eli’s hand returned to your knee — grounding, possessive. “About time you came back” he said, laughing, trying to pull the atmosphere back together.

“You said eight” Tommy said, already checking his pocket watch. The edge was back.

“Nonsense. Everyone knows the real fun starts later” Eli brushed him off with a smile, but the grip on your leg tightened.

“We were meant to discuss business” Tommy said flatly, his eyes now cutting.

“Good thing we’ve got all day tomorrow” Eli replied, leaning back, light on the surface but steel underneath. “Tonight’s for celebration. Business comes after politics”

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head. “However you got a seat in parliament…”

“I’ve got that gypsy charm” Eli grinned, throwing the jab right back.

“That you do” Tommy muttered, looking at you again.

You held his stare too long. Again.

The party carried on, but the warmth left your limbs. Your drink tasted dull. You fixed your hair out of habit, rubbed your fingers against your thighs, and quietly wished to disappear. You weren’t here anymore. You were just… on display.

And still, the glances came. From across the room, from behind half-empty tumblers, from behind that mask Tommy wore so well. When you looked away, it took strength. When you didn’t — it cost you peace.

Eventually, you slipped away to the restroom. The door shut behind you like a sigh of relief. You leaned against the sink, hands splayed against porcelain, breath shallow.

Silence.

Then… click.

You barely had time to flinch before two arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against a familiar chest. You sighed, a small laugh slipping out.

“Eli…” you smiled, your body relaxing — until you noticed the fabric.

The jacket wasn’t right. It was too dark.

Your heart stopped.

You shoved the arms off and spun, panic turning to nausea.

“Thomas” you gasped.

He stood there — calm, poised, vilely amused.

“Your name truly suits you, darling” he said, eyes dragging down your body as he leaned against the door, slipping a cigarette between his lips like it was choreographed.

Your breath hitched.

“Why would you do that?” you whispered.

He tilted his head, blowing out smoke. “My apologies. You’re not a whore, then?”

You snapped. “I am not”

Tommy gave a scoff, flicking ash to the floor. “Could’ve fooled me. Didn’t take much, did it?”

You flinched.

The memory — messy, impulsive, now toxic — reared its ugly head. It wasn’t meant to follow you here. You had left. You had run.

And now…

“I didn’t know you two knew each other” you said, voice shaking. “Please… don’t tell him. Just — just don’t”

Tommy didn’t blink. “What, did he think he was your first?” he mocked, stepping closer. “Or are you worried about what else I’ll say?”

“No. I just— I need time. To think. This is—”

“Messy” Tommy offered, voice low. “Confusing. Shame”

He exhaled another drag, then held the cigarette out. You took it, hesitating before you inhaled. It burned. Sharp and bitter.

“He’s my best mate” Tommy said, stepping in. “Did he tell you what happened to us in France? We made a pact. First to die, the other gives the eulogy. And you want me to tell him… what, exactly? That his perfect fiancée isn’t so clean after all?”

Your stomach turned.

“Like you’re any better than dirt... And when I saw that… I left”

He didn’t flinch.

You stared at him, furious — not just at him, but at yourself. “You’re no saint”

Tommy leaned in slowly, close enough to steal breath. Then, suddenly, he pulled back, a razor cut of motion and turned to the door.

“You snuck out like a cheap whore” he muttered, hand on the knob. “Try not to do it again”

The door creaked open. Music and voices spilled in, along with the weight of the room you’d have to step back into.

“You might want to hurry” he added, glancing back with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want your fiancé thinking you were up to something”

Then he was gone.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. Your reflection stared back — painted, polished, and now deeply cracked.

You wiped the corners of your eyes, bit the inside of your cheek, and straightened your posture.

When you returned, the room swallowed you whole again. Eli looked up, smiling wide, reaching out for you like nothing had changed.

And you let him.

You sat beside him, nodding along, sipping slowly.

But Tommy was watching.

Of course he was.

The truth didn’t save you, It didn’t set you free. Instead, it only tightened the chains around your hands and feet, dragging you backwards, pulling you closer to his ice-cold grasp.

Now you know what he was. Now you understand why you were never meant to remember. Now you know that the truth was never your salvation, but your damnation. 

Every room feels smaller. Every wall, closer. Every step, louder than the last. The floorboards echo like warning shots. You run, not because you believe you’ll escape, but because stopping means feeling his hands again.

And if he catches you, he’ll look at you with those same calm eyes. The ones that lie without blinking.

He’ll say your name like it still belongs to him. He’ll ask why you’re afraid, as if he doesn’t already know.

And worst of all… he’ll smile. Because now that you know, the lie is dead. And what he buried is alive and burning. 

The truth came at a high price, one that marked you. Made you prey. He doesn’t chase like a man in love. He hunts like a man punishing what ran from him.

You can hear him, not running, no… walking. Calm. Certain. As if this house is just a cage, and all he has to do is wait for you to wear yourself out. Because only he holds the key.

The dim halls of Arrow House twist like a taunting maze. Flickering lights, thrown by the storm outside, shake your steps as if the hallway rocks beneath your feet. No matter which path you take, there is no escape from his spleen, his skill, his wicked wrath.

With every step, it almost felt as if your feet were sinking into the cold polished wooden planks. 

The nausea of the truth twists in your stomach, a cruel ritual demanding you to swallow it whole. Each movement jabs and kicks at your insides. Your aching heart beats, cracking against your ribs. Every heavy breath constricts your throat tighter.

His patronizing voice booms through the grand walls, mood turning rotten in this game of cat and mouse. He shouts his buried rage and frustration, six feet deep in his mind, uncaring if others hear the storm he’s unleashing. His patience has finally run thin with you.

Sounds bounce around you — you can’t tell if he’s still tailing you. But you know he’ll never let you get away.

An invisible band tightens around your head by the second. Your vision blurs as you stumble aimlessly on the ground floor.

Tommy shakes his head watching your swaying body lean weakly against the wall. You try to hold in the nausea just a little longer.

The incoming storm brewed outside in the darkness. Rumbles of thunder vibrated through the walls, the rain began to fire on the windows like machine guns. But no one felt safe inside the manor. 

The creak of the floorboards echoed. Slow. Measured. Tommy Shelby was calculating your next move in this wicked game of chess.

“Darling…” his voice rang out, smooth and low, dangerous in its calmness. The sudden rage vanished from his chest. “Let’s not make a scene. Come here now, and we can talk properly. Like we always do”.

You turn another corner, trying to get out of his sight. Your stomach clenches. His composure was always premeditated. Designed to keep you lost in your beliefs. He would always outrun you, the only option was to fight or hide. 

Slipping into the drawing room, you pushed the door until it clicked shut. Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the ticking clock. 

But you are a fool indeed, forgetting that every door in this house leads back to him. 

The room was dim, only lit by the faint amber glow of dying firewood in the fireplace. The scent of smoke hung thick in the air. You backed away from the door, stepping cautiously. Rain pounds the windows, demanding to be let in.

There was no exit here, no freedom from his torment. 

You saw the shadow appear from the gap of the door. Trembling, you grabbed the only object within reach, a letter opener on the side table. Clutching it tightly, the door creaked open. His blue eyes locked with yours, mouth open as he slowly nods.

“You misunderstood something” Tommy said, closer now, just passed the door frame. “You’re confused. You always get confused when you’re upset” he sighed, unease dripping from his silver tongue. 

The scary part was that he didn’t sound angry, he was calm, loving even. Like this was a minor misunderstanding over dinner. Something that could be resolved with a simple kiss. 

Silence stretches between you. The distance shrinks between you, until he is inches away from you. He fixed his jacket neatly and tightened his tie. 

“I forgave you the first time you left me, the first time you broke me. You’d be a fool to believe that I will ever let you leave me again” he spoke, words coated not with threat, but with a promise. 

A seal to your fate, a set of chains being held out with a wicked smile, expecting you to lock them on yourself and throw the key away. 

Swinging the sharp metal in his direction, Tommy lunged back, swiftly grabbing hold of your arm, he locked it in a painful hold. Your limb twisted as you cried out in pain. Dropping the opener, he huffed and let go, you stumbled, gathering your balance and looked up to him.  

“Enough love! You’re confused! Can’t you see? Let me help you” Tommy spoke firmly, his hands out as a sign of surrender, comfort, but to also gain control. 

You tried to push past him, Tommy Shelby didn’t like that. 

Stomping his foot on the ground, his shoulders rolled back, he spun you around to face him, his beautiful features painted in a frightening expression. Your eyes widened at him, body froze at his competence. His hands squeezed your biceps like you’re jelly. 

“Just take a moment to breathe…” Tommy huffed out, his rough hands trying to ease your distress. 

For a split second, your panic did ease. All while staring at that caring sparkle buried deep in his eyes. But that kind moment burnt out quicker than putting out a candle wick. 

You shoved him, he grumbled as you hurried down the hall. Biting his rage, Tommy followed after you once more. As you tried to climb up the grand staircase, Tommy’s hand latched onto your wrist, your eyes shot brutal daggers at him. 

“I did what I had to do, to protect you, to protect us!” Tommy snarled, pulling you off the step into his chest. 

Roughly shoving him off, you spat at his delusions painted in crimson. The ruthless gangster never did good out of his heart, only what was required to gain his desires, his ambitions. You were another pawn in his game, the queen in this match of chess. Yet he was the one trying to force you into checkmate. 

“You’re sick Tommy! Sick in the head! Do you hear me? Are the engines still too loud for you?” you yelled, jabbing your fingers harshly onto his forehead. 

Swiftly, he grabbed your arms and pulled you close to him, his mouth heaved by yours. A feral animal had been unleashed in Arrow House and you were a defenceless creature awaiting its fangs.

Lightning strikes. His frustration melts into a sinister grin.

“There’s nothing more sickening than love, my darling. I’m cursed by you! But I don’t ever want to be freed” Tommy smirked wickedly, eyes locked onto your lips. His tongue rolled over his cracked lips as he watched your body shudder. “You need to understand, we are so in love darling. Stop digging into the past, you can’t even comprehend it” Tommy explained slyly, eyes twitching. 

“I know enough, the truth doesn’t lie” you spoke shallowly, he raised his nose from it. 

“Enough with the paranoia, it’s making you act stupid. Can you see why I hid this from you!” he snorted, disbelief thick. “You’re not well darling… Have you taken your medication today, eh? Can you see the tantrum you’re having? Come on, let’s take it and let me tend you to bed hm?” Tommy continued, the look of concern almost believable to be genuine. 

Despite the lovers’ quarrel, his hands roamed carefully over your curves, squeezing your skin in all of his favourite spots. The erection in his trousers pressed against your stomach, you tried to ignore it. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead, a peace offering to let both of your frustrations vanish. You controlled your breathing, blinked back tears.

“I’ll kill you” you threatened, quietly, viciously. 

Tommy smiled innocently as he tilted his head down towards you, his double chin formed. His expression dared you to try. His fingers snaked up to the back of your head, he tugged at your roots, you grunted out.  

“You’ve tried that before, remember where it got you?” Tommy toyed, recalling the past. “Oh wait” he chuckled silently. His free fingers roamed over the delicate skin on your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Forming fists, your knuckles turned white, body trembled with bottled anger. 

He rolled his hips against yours, reigning in his believed easy victory.

As the hatred waved over you again, you drove up your knee to his crotch. Immediately his hold retreated as his hands gripped onto his groin. A restrained groan echoed through the air. 

Free from his chains, you fled down the hall, your steps bounced through every wall in the manor. Tommy bellowed his rage at full volume as he marched after you, his polished shoes colliding so hard on the floors that you swore you heard a snap.

“Listen to me!” Tommy roared like a crazed beast.

When his demand went ignored by you, he ripped a painting off the wall, slamming it to the floor before him. The wood snapped into pieces, canvas torn as he stepped over the wreckage. 

You fling open the back door, the breeze of England’s cold nights wrapped around your bare skin, desperate to take you away from him. Heavy raindrops wash your suffering. The woods hidden in the darkness felt safer than the comfort of his deadly hands. 

The sky rumbled, thunder shook the large clouds. Looking back, you caught the crazed look in his blue orbs growing larger by the second. 

“You’ve got nowhere to go my love! I own you!” Tommy shouted as he closed in on you. 

“I’d rather freeze to death than stay here!” you spat, looking him dead in the eye for a split second before running. 

As you flew out into the darkness, you sprinted over the gravel and dirt, your tears blended perfectly with the rain. 

Tommy stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at your actions, your betrayal. His hand pressed against the revolver in his holster hidden underneath his jacket. “You’re mine! No one else’s eh! Mine!” Tommy announced into the storming, dark sky. 

Chasing after you, his arms swayed from side to side. Heavy pants left both of your lips as your figures drown from the light of Arrow House. Your name echoed painfully through the open air, then it turned into another lighting strike. 

The wind blew the door shut, the impact echoing through every wall. As the house fell silent, the staff dared to breathe and allowed their bodies to move as the danger was finally gone. 

For now.  

Four months earlier.

Blurred thoughts, numb emotions, and stinging sensations looped through your paralyzed body. Flashes of diabolic beings poisoned your mind. It felt like you were plummeting through a bright black hole which had no end. A tempting, familiar yet unrecognizable voice spat threats into your ears.

‘You are mine!’ Those three words echoed louder each time, more vicious,  making your weak body tremble with raw fear.

You tried to scream for any chance of mercy. Pleaded to  any savior to hold his gracious hand out. But your mouth went as dry as draughted land. Your hopes shattered silently, crashing into invisible walls.

Your life flashed before your eyes: picking flowers as a child, the sting of a cruel teacher’s whip, your father’s dying grip, meeting your fiancé — and always him, the man who shattered everything.

Still, in this soul wandering universe, he was haunting you. The hold of your beating heart in his hands as you waited for him to pop it to pieces. 

After finally accepting that this was your eternal purpose, allowing the pain to surge through your blood, you saw a bright light above. 

A man with a shadowed face held out his hand. It looked cautionary, but the familiarity of the detail to the pale skin encouraged you to take a hold. You sighed in relief as you finally felt a sense of warmth bloom inside of you. Then everything around you turned to a piercing white and all sound, thoughts and dreadful suffering vanished within you. 

As you blinked heavily, the first thing you noticed was the light above you, too white, too loud. It hummed above you like it was judging you, speechlessly determining your fate. Your head throbbed, not a headache, at least not yet. More like a thick pulsing fog in your head rubbing against your skull. 

You tried to sit up, only to be met with a stampede of pain crashing through every inch of your body. A snapped, dry groan rose from your cracked lips. 

“Take it slow” a deep voice ordered, composed and stern. 

Gearing your stiff neck like clockwork, you allowed your body and mind to fully awaken. Ringing noises echoed down your eardrums. The blurred vision cleared gradually as you inhaled raggedly. 

The objects slowly painted a bland picture in your mind. The sharp scent of perfume, tobacco and alcohol burned your nose. The dullness of the hospital room weighed heavy on your chest despite your thoughts slowly progressing quicker. 

Your arm was equipped up to an IV drip, your lower body kept warm with a thick white blanket, skin covered in sweat. 

You squeezed your hands in worry, but shuddered as you felt a rough, large hand intertwined with yours. Looking over to your right, you stared in disbelief, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. Tilting your head, you wondered if you were still asleep, praying that this was another nightmare. 

Tommy sat by the side of your thin bed. The redness around his blue orbs was like fire surrounding the sea. Quickly, the strong scent of tobacco shot down to your lungs. You coughed at the smell and grumbled out your physical distress. Like bullets, your nervous eyes shot all over the room. There was no one else here, only you and him. 

Alone with the sleeping beast. 

Questions flooded out of your mind. But you were too shocked, weak and confused to speak. However the question as to why he was right by your side, holding your hand in comfort, was skeptical and disordered. 

“My love, you’re awake” Tommy exhaled, as if he was relieved yet his expression was drained of any spec of happiness. 

A firm squeeze to your hand followed after. You winced, every movement sending waves of pain through your bruised body. Gulping down as you dared to ask him the expected initial questions. Tommy’s head tilted as he tried to read your expressions, body language and mind. 

He wore one of his typical grey suits, material too clean for this place. The jacket hung over the back of the chair. Hostler missing its revolver. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he rested his free elbow on his knee. He’s been here for a while, waiting for you to wake up. 

“What happened?” you bleated out, throat burning, raising your free hand to your aching neck. 

His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet momentarily. As his tongue clicked, he leant closer to you, shaking his head only by an inch. 

He wore his usual grey suit, too clean for this place. His jacket draped over the chair, holster empty. Sleeves rolled up as he rested an elbow on his knee.

“You hit your head, darling,” Tommy said with a soft chuckle, eyes fixed on the fresh white bandage.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you blinked slowly. With your eyes shifting towards the door, his followed, you cleared your throat. 

“I need the doctor” you stated, licking your cracked lips once more. 

“We need to talk first” Tommy sighed loudly, letting go of your hand. He plucked a cigarette on the bedside table. Followed by rolling the end between his lips, he looked back to ensure the window was open. 

“Talk?” your reply was delayed, voice full of wonder, brows scrunched together. 

Tommy snickered as he lit the tobacco and inhaled deeply. Looking you dead in the eye, you felt your heartbeat rise with anticipation. But then a demanding thought bursted through your mind as he began to speak. 

“Yes, I need to know if you’re going to-”

“Where’s Eli?” you questioned urgently, tone dripping of worry and yearning. 

“Pardon?” Tommy frowned suddenly, the lit stick hanging from his lip. 

Your heart pumped blood rapidly through your veins, you craved Eli’s presence. How long have you been out? Had this been why Tommy is here, to watch over you while Eli was still away. The sadness grew inside of you, you wished Eli was the one that held your hand during all of this perplexity. 

“Where is Eli? Is he coming? Please, tell me”” you gulped, blinking your teary eyes towards him. 

“Darling…” The stone expression gave you no comfort, no assurance, no hope. 

“Thomas? Where’s Eli?” you quaked as you tried to decipher his stern expression.

“What do you remember last?” he spoke blankly and slowly. 

“Where’s Eli? The nurse? I want the doctor, Thomas!” you shuddered, panic rising, your skin crawling.

The words became muffled, your limbs began to tremble, your chest rose and dropped like waves in the deep sea. Tommy’s dark eyes analysed every reaction. He pressed the back of his hand to your heated forehead, your throat closing in. 

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping the flame out immediately, his face moved much closer to yours. 

“Aye, calm down now sweetheart, we need to talk, remember?” Tommy cooed, his fingers rubbed your sore jaw as he stared into your watery eyes.

“Why are you here Thomas?” you blubbered, voice hollow and scared. 

“What do you mean?” he sighed, holding onto his patience and tranquility. 

Staring into his dark eyes, you tried to find peace in the situation. It wasn’t ordinary for people to wake up to their beloved’s best friend. Especially considering your tainted relationship with Tommy that you desperately wanted to obliterate from existence. 

But the fact that he was here, and not him, sat uneasy in your stomach. Had you done the unbelievable, the unforgivable on multiple ends? Had the ugly truth finally shone in the light. 

“Why are you here, where’s Eli?” you repeat yourself with swelling eyes and trembling lips. 

Another sigh left Tommy’s lips. His hand moved up to your flustered cheek, his eyes low as he admired the skin on your face. 

“My love, just breathe and tell me, what do you last remember, eh?” Tommy spoke calmly. 

You frowned in thought. All of your memories jumbled like you were trapped in a spider’s web. There was no straight line for you to follow. The gears were cranking behind Tommy’s eyes as he waited in anticipation. 

“I-I don’t know, just looking after Charlie” you huffed out, a click left his tongue. 

“Think harder now” he spoke more firmly, ready to be more assertive to get his questions answered. 

You whined in frustration, your throat completely parched. Swaying your head around, you tried to find steady breathing, something to hold onto. One hand massaged your shoulder while the other squeezed your hand tightly. You looked towards him, the rare gentleness beamed in his orbs. Some clarity finally came to your clouded mind.

“Uh, I’ve been at Arrow House for only a few weeks” you answered, relieved that the confusion was finally fading away. 

It went unnoticed with how Tommy’s eyes widened momentarily. As the room turned silent, the only sounds being the humming light and drowned sounds of the city outside, your small moment of peace vanished as you looked back over to him. His expression wasn’t warm. There was something wrong, horribly wrong. 

“Only a few weeks, eh?” Tommy nodded gently, mouth ajar open, his crowded lower teeth showing. 

“What day is it, Thomas?” you hesitated. 

“Perhaps we should get that doctor in” Tommy mumbled as he abruptly stood up, fixing his pants with a rough tug on the waistband. 

You repeated his name in a shaky tone as he strides towards the door. His stance firm, mind moving a lot quicker than his feet. Ignoring your pleas, your hands smacked against the mattress in frustration. 

“Thomas! What day is it!” you demanded, lunging your upper body forward, your lunges heaving in your chest, razor blades running up and down your throat. 

Stubbornly, he kept his eyes pointed onwards, shaking his head at your puny orders. 

“I need to speak to the doctor first” he said vigorously. 

“Dammit! What fucking day is it!” you shouted, your dry throat ached as you fell back onto the bed, defeated. 

His hand rested on the doorknob, his head hung down as he debated on what to do. Turning his head back, he looked at you in pity, caving in easily. 

“August thirteenth, nineteen-thirty-four” he answered. 

It took a long time for you to process his words. Your mind melted into goo and all you could do was feel your heartbeat in a slow rhythm. As the realisation finally snapped in your head, you shook your head in denial. Mouth completely wordless as you narrowed your eyes at Tommy. 

“No, that’s not right…” you whispered.  

Suddenly, your vision cleared as if there was a glossy piece of glass in front of you and Tommy looked different. Now, he didn’t look old, but certainly aged. Like maturing a barrel of whisky. At the top of his head, his hair was grown out a lot more, the front strains fringed around his forehead, the sides evenly shaved. His face had a few more cuts here and there. All of them healed up. His eyes widened as you suddenly choked on your sob. 

“Where’s Eli! Please get a hold of him for me!” you begged pathetically, desperate for Eli to make this make sense 

Tommy blinked as your lungs turned to stone, a panic attack pumping through your blood, on a mission to conquer every inch of your body. His jaw clenched, still yet to blink. 

“Eli isn’t coming, darling” he replied, flat. 

“What?” you gasped silently. 

“I don’t think it’s best for me to tell you too much yet, let me get you that doctor” Tommy nodded, his hand reaching back for the knob. 

“I want Eli, Tommy! Call Eli! Tell him I’m sorry!” you pleaded, even trying to crawl out of the bed, but your lower body ached in agony, you whined out in pain. 

Tommy huffed out under his breath and he approached you. Gently, his hands rested on your biceps, pressing you flat on the bed, pinning your hands at your sides. Brokenly, you allowed him to do so. A flash of sympathy appeared in his eyes. 

“Just breathe, I’ll get the nurse to give you something for your state eh?” Tommy suggested as his body hovered back. 

“Don’t leave me Thomas” you cried, your desperate hands latched onto his shoulders.

His throat swelled as his eyes locked onto your trembling hands. He didn’t hesitate. Slowly, he climbed onto the small bed and wrapped his body around yours like a blanket. You cried into his chest, your body trembled like a delicate flower in the wind. Tommy hummed as he relaxed on the thin bed. Eager to calm you.  

“There, there” he cooed, shifting his hips around slightly to get comfy. “Breathe, you’ll be alright” he whispered as you quietly sobbed into his chest. “You must be so tired, aye?” he murmured, molding his body into yours. 

This was all he wanted, to comfort you, hold you, to take care of you. His soothing words went muffled by your ears, expression unphased. 

Rubbing your dripping nose into his shirt, your tired eyes fell shut. Desperate to wake up from this living nightmare. 

Tommy exhaled and clicked his tongue, his calculating mind turning the cranks once more. He caressed your heated face as he murmured your name. Your breathing eased, grip softened as you fell into a blank state of mind. Tommy breathed silently, rubbing your flustered cheeks.

When you came back to consciousness, Tommy stood by the door with the doctor. His stance was stern like usual. Their words were muffled, all jumbled up in your head, but you could feel his dark eyes through your blurred vision. 

You mumbled out words, shifted your body as you gently moaned. The conversation came to a halt, both of them slowly approached you. 

“Finally awake then my dear?” the doctor smiled gently. “Took quite a fall to the head” he pointed, looking over the bandage. 

You felt calmer. You looked up to the IV drip, a fresh bag connected up. Feeling the soft texture of the white material, you lowered your hand from your face and looked up to them both. 

“What happened to me?” you questioned softly, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders. 

“You had a bit too much to drink and slipped on your gown” the doctor reassured, petting your shoulder gently like you’re a child being looked over for scraping their knee on the gravel. 

“Hit the cased opening” Tommy clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers over the opposite forearms.

Your eyes shot to Tommy. His expression was neutral but there was something dancing in his eyes, the suspicious unavoidable. 

“Why don’t I remember anything” you returned your attention to the doctor.  

“Given your symptoms, your condition is post traumatic amnesia. Since you took such a severe hit to the head, you’ve managed to forget quite a bit of time…” he exhaled. Your breathing shuddered instantly. “All should return in due time” he assured, his shoulders raised as if he could feel the sharp daggers in Tommy’s eyes. “Now you might have trouble storing new memories” he mentioned. 

“I remember waking up to Thomas” you gradually replied. 

“Good, that's a good sign” he smiled softly. 

Doctor Stephens only talked for a little while longer. Very simple terms, most likely for your condition. But you couldn’t help but to feel like a child. Tommy watched the words slip from his crinkling lips. Noticing the way his lips would quiver if you asked too clever of a question. 

You stared at Tommy, his best friend, his brother. Had you destroyed their foundation completely? You felt sick. Not from pain, from the possibility of what you’d done. 

He watched you back, with those dark, charming eyes of his. How easy was it for you to be hypnotized? Did he even have to cast a spell on you, or was it your own free will. Were you tempted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit, too greedy on its costly taste. 

But yet again, where were all of the disgusted, bothered and belittling comments from him? The harsh words he whispered into your ear when people were watching. His rough, dominating hands that made you feel weak. The massive portrait of how much of a burden you were. How badly of a whore you were. 

The temperamental man was dangerously cool. 

Why was the Thomas Shelby here, waiting for you to wake up? 

“How long will it last?” Tommy whispered by the open door, Doctor Stephens blocked out of your view. 

Your wandering, curious eyes poked around, hoping to read lips. But no face was in sight, only the back of Tommy’s head. 

“It depends really, Mr Shelby, it could be days, weeks, months…” he answered unsurely. 

Tommy went silent for a moment, nodding his head as his eyes looked over his shoulder to you. A complete damsel in distress. It brought a softness to his face. 

“Is it possible to be permanent?” he inquired. 

Initially, the doctor laughed. But as he noticed the seriousness in his eyes, he cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt. 

“Depends how severe the trauma was” he answered, a hint of regret for even speaking in such conversation. 

But if Tommy Shelby wanted to talk, you’d better have your words clear. A deep breath left his lips, his shoe clinked on the floorboards as he closed in the distance. 

“When will you know?” Tommy quietly replied. Doctor Stephen’s throat tightened as Tommy loomed over him.  

“Mr Shelby-”

“Thomas” you whined, squirming your aching limbs in the bed, anxious thoughts filling your stomach to the tipping point. 

“Bring in the nurse to help ease her stresses, eh?” Tommy ordered. Doctor Stephens slowly nodded his head. “We’ll talk later” Tommy abruptly ended the conversation before slamming the door shut. 

He tilted his head at you, your heart was pounding again, you thought that you’d soon forget how to breathe. 

“Hey, have some water and just take it easy” Tommy ghosted a smile, pouring you a fresh glass. 

You took a few gulps, hissing at the pain in your throat. 

“Thomas” you gulped, your hand latched onto his. 

You were too desperate for any form of comfort to consider the consequences. Quickly, Tommy climbed back onto the bed and took you into his arms. You heaved out and buried your face into his chest. Mood swings, a common symptom of your condition. 

“Nothing to stress about. Probably just something mild, you’re still very confused. That brain just 

hasn’t fully woken up yet” he chuckled gently. 

For a few minutes, you both laid there in silence, enjoying the calmness before one of the eventual storms. The nurse quickly came and assisted you with a couple of pills. Soon the effects came into play, your body relaxed as you laid on the pillows. Tommy rested back on the seat, brushing his hand through his oiling hair. 

Hesitantly, you looked up to Tommy. Who looked down to you within a blink of the eye. 

“Is Eli coming?” you spoke in hushed tones, half of your face hidden by the pillow. 

Tommy blinked slowly, leant forward and took your cheek in his rough hand. “Remember what I told you?” he whispered, not cruel, yet not kind. 

“I-uh…” you grumbled in defeat. 

“Need you to rest up first, before we talk, alright?” he explained, a smile split through his lips. 

You felt the metal on his left hand as he caressed your face. Your eyes furrowed as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and tugged his hand back.

The gold band around his ring finger shined, his fingers rubbed over the sacred material as he cleared his throat. Yes, some would determine him as a widower, but never had you seen him cherish his past fiancee. His wedding finger was always bare. 

The pieces all fell together, forcing them into place in your mind. Tommy’s eyes flickered from yours to his ring finger. A knowing smile grew ever so slightly on his lips as he returned his gaze to you. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he fetched another cigarette, careless of how close you were to one another.

“Why are you here?”

But then you properly looked at your own ring finger. The diamond that sparkled was not the one that Eli promised you with, but another two. These were bigger, more grand. He lit another cigarette, turned his head to the side and puffed out the ball of smoke. 

“Because my darling” he exhaled, raising his hands besides yours, pressing the rings together. 

And as the weight of that ring settled on your finger, you realised… Whatever life you’d forgotten, it wasn’t yours anymore.

The truth didn’t save you, It didn’t set you free. Instead, it only tightened the chains around your hands and feet, dragging you backwards, pulling you closer to his ice-cold grasp.

Now you know what he was. Now you understand why you were never meant to remember. Now you know that the truth was never your salvation, but your damnation. 

Every room feels smaller. Every wall, closer. Every step, louder than the last. The floorboards echo like warning shots. You run, not because you believe you’ll escape, but because stopping means feeling his hands again.

And if he catches you, he’ll look at you with those same calm eyes. The ones that lie without blinking.

He’ll say your name like it still belongs to him. He’ll ask why you’re afraid, as if he doesn’t already know.

And worst of all… he’ll smile. Because now that you know, the lie is dead. And what he buried is alive and burning. 

The truth came at a high price, one that marked you. Made you prey. He doesn’t chase like a man in love. He hunts like a man punishing what ran from him.

You can hear him, not running, no… walking. Calm. Certain. As if this house is just a cage, and all he has to do is wait for you to wear yourself out. Because only he holds the key.

The dim halls of Arrow House twist like a taunting maze. Flickering lights, thrown by the storm outside, shake your steps as if the hallway rocks beneath your feet. No matter which path you take, there is no escape from his spleen, his skill, his wicked wrath.

With every step, it almost felt as if your feet were sinking into the cold polished wooden planks. 

The nausea of the truth twists in your stomach, a cruel ritual demanding you to swallow it whole. Each movement jabs and kicks at your insides. Your aching heart beats, cracking against your ribs. Every heavy breath constricts your throat tighter.

His patronizing voice booms through the grand walls, mood turning rotten in this game of cat and mouse. He shouts his buried rage and frustration, six feet deep in his mind, uncaring if others hear the storm he’s unleashing. His patience has finally run thin with you.

Sounds bounce around you — you can’t tell if he’s still tailing you. But you know he’ll never let you get away.

An invisible band tightens around your head by the second. Your vision blurs as you stumble aimlessly on the ground floor.

Tommy shakes his head watching your swaying body lean weakly against the wall. You try to hold in the nausea just a little longer.

The incoming storm brewed outside in the darkness. Rumbles of thunder vibrated through the walls, the rain began to fire on the windows like machine guns. But no one felt safe inside the manor. 

The creak of the floorboards echoed. Slow. Measured. Tommy Shelby was calculating your next move in this wicked game of chess.

“Darling…” his voice rang out, smooth and low, dangerous in its calmness. The sudden rage vanished from his chest. “Let’s not make a scene. Come here now, and we can talk properly. Like we always do”.

You turn another corner, trying to get out of his sight. Your stomach clenches. His composure was always premeditated. Designed to keep you lost in your beliefs. He would always outrun you, the only option was to fight or hide. 

Slipping into the drawing room, you pushed the door until it clicked shut. Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the ticking clock. 

But you are a fool indeed, forgetting that every door in this house leads back to him. 

The room was dim, only lit by the faint amber glow of dying firewood in the fireplace. The scent of smoke hung thick in the air. You backed away from the door, stepping cautiously. Rain pounds the windows, demanding to be let in.

There was no exit here, no freedom from his torment. 

You saw the shadow appear from the gap of the door. Trembling, you grabbed the only object within reach, a letter opener on the side table. Clutching it tightly, the door creaked open. His blue eyes locked with yours, mouth open as he slowly nods.

“You misunderstood something” Tommy said, closer now, just passed the door frame. “You’re confused. You always get confused when you’re upset” he sighed, unease dripping from his silver tongue. 

The scary part was that he didn’t sound angry, he was calm, loving even. Like this was a minor misunderstanding over dinner. Something that could be resolved with a simple kiss. 

Silence stretches between you. The distance shrinks between you, until he is inches away from you. He fixed his jacket neatly and tightened his tie. 

“I forgave you the first time you left me, the first time you broke me. You’d be a fool to believe that I will ever let you leave me again” he spoke, words coated not with threat, but with a promise. 

A seal to your fate, a set of chains being held out with a wicked smile, expecting you to lock them on yourself and throw the key away. 

Swinging the sharp metal in his direction, Tommy lunged back, swiftly grabbing hold of your arm, he locked it in a painful hold. Your limb twisted as you cried out in pain. Dropping the opener, he huffed and let go, you stumbled, gathering your balance and looked up to him.  

“Enough love! You’re confused! Can’t you see? Let me help you” Tommy spoke firmly, his hands out as a sign of surrender, comfort, but to also gain control. 

You tried to push past him, Tommy Shelby didn’t like that. 

Stomping his foot on the ground, his shoulders rolled back, he spun you around to face him, his beautiful features painted in a frightening expression. Your eyes widened at him, body froze at his competence. His hands squeezed your biceps like you’re jelly. 

“Just take a moment to breathe…” Tommy huffed out, his rough hands trying to ease your distress. 

For a split second, your panic did ease. All while staring at that caring sparkle buried deep in his eyes. But that kind moment burnt out quicker than putting out a candle wick. 

You shoved him, he grumbled as you hurried down the hall. Biting his rage, Tommy followed after you once more. As you tried to climb up the grand staircase, Tommy’s hand latched onto your wrist, your eyes shot brutal daggers at him. 

“I did what I had to do, to protect you, to protect us!” Tommy snarled, pulling you off the step into his chest. 

Roughly shoving him off, you spat at his delusions painted in crimson. The ruthless gangster never did good out of his heart, only what was required to gain his desires, his ambitions. You were another pawn in his game, the queen in this match of chess. Yet he was the one trying to force you into checkmate. 

“You’re sick Tommy! Sick in the head! Do you hear me? Are the engines still too loud for you?” you yelled, jabbing your fingers harshly onto his forehead. 

Swiftly, he grabbed your arms and pulled you close to him, his mouth heaved by yours. A feral animal had been unleashed in Arrow House and you were a defenceless creature awaiting its fangs.

Lightning strikes. His frustration melts into a sinister grin.

“There’s nothing more sickening than love, my darling. I’m cursed by you! But I don’t ever want to be freed” Tommy smirked wickedly, eyes locked onto your lips. His tongue rolled over his cracked lips as he watched your body shudder. “You need to understand, we are so in love darling. Stop digging into the past, you can’t even comprehend it” Tommy explained slyly, eyes twitching. 

“I know enough, the truth doesn’t lie” you spoke shallowly, he raised his nose from it. 

“Enough with the paranoia, it’s making you act stupid. Can you see why I hid this from you!” he snorted, disbelief thick. “You’re not well darling… Have you taken your medication today, eh? Can you see the tantrum you’re having? Come on, let’s take it and let me tend you to bed hm?” Tommy continued, the look of concern almost believable to be genuine. 

Despite the lovers’ quarrel, his hands roamed carefully over your curves, squeezing your skin in all of his favourite spots. The erection in his trousers pressed against your stomach, you tried to ignore it. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead, a peace offering to let both of your frustrations vanish. You controlled your breathing, blinked back tears.

“I’ll kill you” you threatened, quietly, viciously. 

Tommy smiled innocently as he tilted his head down towards you, his double chin formed. His expression dared you to try. His fingers snaked up to the back of your head, he tugged at your roots, you grunted out.  

“You’ve tried that before, remember where it got you?” Tommy toyed, recalling the past. “Oh wait” he chuckled silently. His free fingers roamed over the delicate skin on your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Forming fists, your knuckles turned white, body trembled with bottled anger. 

He rolled his hips against yours, reigning in his believed easy victory.

As the hatred waved over you again, you drove up your knee to his crotch. Immediately his hold retreated as his hands gripped onto his groin. A restrained groan echoed through the air. 

Free from his chains, you fled down the hall, your steps bounced through every wall in the manor. Tommy bellowed his rage at full volume as he marched after you, his polished shoes colliding so hard on the floors that you swore you heard a snap.

“Listen to me!” Tommy roared like a crazed beast.

When his demand went ignored by you, he ripped a painting off the wall, slamming it to the floor before him. The wood snapped into pieces, canvas torn as he stepped over the wreckage. 

You fling open the back door, the breeze of England’s cold nights wrapped around your bare skin, desperate to take you away from him. Heavy raindrops wash your suffering. The woods hidden in the darkness felt safer than the comfort of his deadly hands. 

The sky rumbled, thunder shook the large clouds. Looking back, you caught the crazed look in his blue orbs growing larger by the second. 

“You’ve got nowhere to go my love! I own you!” Tommy shouted as he closed in on you. 

“I’d rather freeze to death than stay here!” you spat, looking him dead in the eye for a split second before running. 

As you flew out into the darkness, you sprinted over the gravel and dirt, your tears blended perfectly with the rain. 

Tommy stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at your actions, your betrayal. His hand pressed against the revolver in his holster hidden underneath his jacket. “You’re mine! No one else’s eh! Mine!” Tommy announced into the storming, dark sky. 

Chasing after you, his arms swayed from side to side. Heavy pants left both of your lips as your figures drown from the light of Arrow House. Your name echoed painfully through the open air, then it turned into another lighting strike. 

The wind blew the door shut, the impact echoing through every wall. As the house fell silent, the staff dared to breathe and allowed their bodies to move as the danger was finally gone. 

For now.  

Four months earlier.

Blurred thoughts, numb emotions, and stinging sensations looped through your paralyzed body. Flashes of diabolic beings poisoned your mind. It felt like you were plummeting through a bright black hole which had no end. A tempting, familiar yet unrecognizable voice spat threats into your ears.

‘You are mine!’ Those three words echoed louder each time, more vicious,  making your weak body tremble with raw fear.

You tried to scream for any chance of mercy. Pleaded to  any savior to hold his gracious hand out. But your mouth went as dry as draughted land. Your hopes shattered silently, crashing into invisible walls.

Your life flashed before your eyes: picking flowers as a child, the sting of a cruel teacher’s whip, your father’s dying grip, meeting your fiancé — and always him, the man who shattered everything.

Still, in this soul wandering universe, he was haunting you. The hold of your beating heart in his hands as you waited for him to pop it to pieces. 

After finally accepting that this was your eternal purpose, allowing the pain to surge through your blood, you saw a bright light above. 

A man with a shadowed face held out his hand. It looked cautionary, but the familiarity of the detail to the pale skin encouraged you to take a hold. You sighed in relief as you finally felt a sense of warmth bloom inside of you. Then everything around you turned to a piercing white and all sound, thoughts and dreadful suffering vanished within you. 

As you blinked heavily, the first thing you noticed was the light above you, too white, too loud. It hummed above you like it was judging you, speechlessly determining your fate. Your head throbbed, not a headache, at least not yet. More like a thick pulsing fog in your head rubbing against your skull. 

You tried to sit up, only to be met with a stampede of pain crashing through every inch of your body. A snapped, dry groan rose from your cracked lips. 

“Take it slow” a deep voice ordered, composed and stern. 

Gearing your stiff neck like clockwork, you allowed your body and mind to fully awaken. Ringing noises echoed down your eardrums. The blurred vision cleared gradually as you inhaled raggedly. 

The objects slowly painted a bland picture in your mind. The sharp scent of perfume, tobacco and alcohol burned your nose. The dullness of the hospital room weighed heavy on your chest despite your thoughts slowly progressing quicker. 

Your arm was equipped up to an IV drip, your lower body kept warm with a thick white blanket, skin covered in sweat. 

You squeezed your hands in worry, but shuddered as you felt a rough, large hand intertwined with yours. Looking over to your right, you stared in disbelief, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. Tilting your head, you wondered if you were still asleep, praying that this was another nightmare. 

Tommy sat by the side of your thin bed. The redness around his blue orbs was like fire surrounding the sea. Quickly, the strong scent of tobacco shot down to your lungs. You coughed at the smell and grumbled out your physical distress. Like bullets, your nervous eyes shot all over the room. There was no one else here, only you and him. 

Alone with the sleeping beast. 

Questions flooded out of your mind. But you were too shocked, weak and confused to speak. However the question as to why he was right by your side, holding your hand in comfort, was skeptical and disordered. 

“My love, you’re awake” Tommy exhaled, as if he was relieved yet his expression was drained of any spec of happiness. 

A firm squeeze to your hand followed after. You winced, every movement sending waves of pain through your bruised body. Gulping down as you dared to ask him the expected initial questions. Tommy’s head tilted as he tried to read your expressions, body language and mind. 

He wore one of his typical grey suits, material too clean for this place. The jacket hung over the back of the chair. Hostler missing its revolver. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he rested his free elbow on his knee. He’s been here for a while, waiting for you to wake up. 

“What happened?” you bleated out, throat burning, raising your free hand to your aching neck. 

His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet momentarily. As his tongue clicked, he leant closer to you, shaking his head only by an inch. 

He wore his usual grey suit, too clean for this place. His jacket draped over the chair, holster empty. Sleeves rolled up as he rested an elbow on his knee.

“You hit your head, darling,” Tommy said with a soft chuckle, eyes fixed on the fresh white bandage.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you blinked slowly. With your eyes shifting towards the door, his followed, you cleared your throat. 

“I need the doctor” you stated, licking your cracked lips once more. 

“We need to talk first” Tommy sighed loudly, letting go of your hand. He plucked a cigarette on the bedside table. Followed by rolling the end between his lips, he looked back to ensure the window was open. 

“Talk?” your reply was delayed, voice full of wonder, brows scrunched together. 

Tommy snickered as he lit the tobacco and inhaled deeply. Looking you dead in the eye, you felt your heartbeat rise with anticipation. But then a demanding thought bursted through your mind as he began to speak. 

“Yes, I need to know if you’re going to-”

“Where’s Eli?” you questioned urgently, tone dripping of worry and yearning. 

“Pardon?” Tommy frowned suddenly, the lit stick hanging from his lip. 

Your heart pumped blood rapidly through your veins, you craved Eli’s presence. How long have you been out? Had this been why Tommy is here, to watch over you while Eli was still away. The sadness grew inside of you, you wished Eli was the one that held your hand during all of this perplexity. 

“Where is Eli? Is he coming? Please, tell me”” you gulped, blinking your teary eyes towards him. 

“Darling…” The stone expression gave you no comfort, no assurance, no hope. 

“Thomas? Where’s Eli?” you quaked as you tried to decipher his stern expression.

“What do you remember last?” he spoke blankly and slowly. 

“Where’s Eli? The nurse? I want the doctor, Thomas!” you shuddered, panic rising, your skin crawling.

The words became muffled, your limbs began to tremble, your chest rose and dropped like waves in the deep sea. Tommy’s dark eyes analysed every reaction. He pressed the back of his hand to your heated forehead, your throat closing in. 

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping the flame out immediately, his face moved much closer to yours. 

“Aye, calm down now sweetheart, we need to talk, remember?” Tommy cooed, his fingers rubbed your sore jaw as he stared into your watery eyes.

“Why are you here Thomas?” you blubbered, voice hollow and scared. 

“What do you mean?” he sighed, holding onto his patience and tranquility. 

Staring into his dark eyes, you tried to find peace in the situation. It wasn’t ordinary for people to wake up to their beloved’s best friend. Especially considering your tainted relationship with Tommy that you desperately wanted to obliterate from existence. 

But the fact that he was here, and not him, sat uneasy in your stomach. Had you done the unbelievable, the unforgivable on multiple ends? Had the ugly truth finally shone in the light. 

“Why are you here, where’s Eli?” you repeat yourself with swelling eyes and trembling lips. 

Another sigh left Tommy’s lips. His hand moved up to your flustered cheek, his eyes low as he admired the skin on your face. 

“My love, just breathe and tell me, what do you last remember, eh?” Tommy spoke calmly. 

You frowned in thought. All of your memories jumbled like you were trapped in a spider’s web. There was no straight line for you to follow. The gears were cranking behind Tommy’s eyes as he waited in anticipation. 

“I-I don’t know, just looking after Charlie” you huffed out, a click left his tongue. 

“Think harder now” he spoke more firmly, ready to be more assertive to get his questions answered. 

You whined in frustration, your throat completely parched. Swaying your head around, you tried to find steady breathing, something to hold onto. One hand massaged your shoulder while the other squeezed your hand tightly. You looked towards him, the rare gentleness beamed in his orbs. Some clarity finally came to your clouded mind.

“Uh, I’ve been at Arrow House for only a few weeks” you answered, relieved that the confusion was finally fading away. 

It went unnoticed with how Tommy’s eyes widened momentarily. As the room turned silent, the only sounds being the humming light and drowned sounds of the city outside, your small moment of peace vanished as you looked back over to him. His expression wasn’t warm. There was something wrong, horribly wrong. 

“Only a few weeks, eh?” Tommy nodded gently, mouth ajar open, his crowded lower teeth showing. 

“What day is it, Thomas?” you hesitated. 

“Perhaps we should get that doctor in” Tommy mumbled as he abruptly stood up, fixing his pants with a rough tug on the waistband. 

You repeated his name in a shaky tone as he strides towards the door. His stance firm, mind moving a lot quicker than his feet. Ignoring your pleas, your hands smacked against the mattress in frustration. 

“Thomas! What day is it!” you demanded, lunging your upper body forward, your lunges heaving in your chest, razor blades running up and down your throat. 

Stubbornly, he kept his eyes pointed onwards, shaking his head at your puny orders. 

“I need to speak to the doctor first” he said vigorously. 

“Dammit! What fucking day is it!” you shouted, your dry throat ached as you fell back onto the bed, defeated. 

His hand rested on the doorknob, his head hung down as he debated on what to do. Turning his head back, he looked at you in pity, caving in easily. 

“August thirteenth, nineteen-thirty-four” he answered. 

It took a long time for you to process his words. Your mind melted into goo and all you could do was feel your heartbeat in a slow rhythm. As the realisation finally snapped in your head, you shook your head in denial. Mouth completely wordless as you narrowed your eyes at Tommy. 

“No, that’s not right…” you whispered.  

Suddenly, your vision cleared as if there was a glossy piece of glass in front of you and Tommy looked different. Now, he didn’t look old, but certainly aged. Like maturing a barrel of whisky. At the top of his head, his hair was grown out a lot more, the front strains fringed around his forehead, the sides evenly shaved. His face had a few more cuts here and there. All of them healed up. His eyes widened as you suddenly choked on your sob. 

“Where’s Eli! Please get a hold of him for me!” you begged pathetically, desperate for Eli to make this make sense 

Tommy blinked as your lungs turned to stone, a panic attack pumping through your blood, on a mission to conquer every inch of your body. His jaw clenched, still yet to blink. 

“Eli isn’t coming, darling” he replied, flat. 

“What?” you gasped silently. 

“I don’t think it’s best for me to tell you too much yet, let me get you that doctor” Tommy nodded, his hand reaching back for the knob. 

“I want Eli, Tommy! Call Eli! Tell him I’m sorry!” you pleaded, even trying to crawl out of the bed, but your lower body ached in agony, you whined out in pain. 

Tommy huffed out under his breath and he approached you. Gently, his hands rested on your biceps, pressing you flat on the bed, pinning your hands at your sides. Brokenly, you allowed him to do so. A flash of sympathy appeared in his eyes. 

“Just breathe, I’ll get the nurse to give you something for your state eh?” Tommy suggested as his body hovered back. 

“Don’t leave me Thomas” you cried, your desperate hands latched onto his shoulders.

His throat swelled as his eyes locked onto your trembling hands. He didn’t hesitate. Slowly, he climbed onto the small bed and wrapped his body around yours like a blanket. You cried into his chest, your body trembled like a delicate flower in the wind. Tommy hummed as he relaxed on the thin bed. Eager to calm you.  

“There, there” he cooed, shifting his hips around slightly to get comfy. “Breathe, you’ll be alright” he whispered as you quietly sobbed into his chest. “You must be so tired, aye?” he murmured, molding his body into yours. 

This was all he wanted, to comfort you, hold you, to take care of you. His soothing words went muffled by your ears, expression unphased. 

Rubbing your dripping nose into his shirt, your tired eyes fell shut. Desperate to wake up from this living nightmare. 

Tommy exhaled and clicked his tongue, his calculating mind turning the cranks once more. He caressed your heated face as he murmured your name. Your breathing eased, grip softened as you fell into a blank state of mind. Tommy breathed silently, rubbing your flustered cheeks.

When you came back to consciousness, Tommy stood by the door with the doctor. His stance was stern like usual. Their words were muffled, all jumbled up in your head, but you could feel his dark eyes through your blurred vision. 

You mumbled out words, shifted your body as you gently moaned. The conversation came to a halt, both of them slowly approached you. 

“Finally awake then my dear?” the doctor smiled gently. “Took quite a fall to the head” he pointed, looking over the bandage. 

You felt calmer. You looked up to the IV drip, a fresh bag connected up. Feeling the soft texture of the white material, you lowered your hand from your face and looked up to them both. 

“What happened to me?” you questioned softly, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders. 

“You had a bit too much to drink and slipped on your gown” the doctor reassured, petting your shoulder gently like you’re a child being looked over for scraping their knee on the gravel. 

“Hit the cased opening” Tommy clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers over the opposite forearms.

Your eyes shot to Tommy. His expression was neutral but there was something dancing in his eyes, the suspicious unavoidable. 

“Why don’t I remember anything” you returned your attention to the doctor.  

“Given your symptoms, your condition is post traumatic amnesia. Since you took such a severe hit to the head, you’ve managed to forget quite a bit of time…” he exhaled. Your breathing shuddered instantly. “All should return in due time” he assured, his shoulders raised as if he could feel the sharp daggers in Tommy’s eyes. “Now you might have trouble storing new memories” he mentioned. 

“I remember waking up to Thomas” you gradually replied. 

“Good, that's a good sign” he smiled softly. 

Doctor Stephens only talked for a little while longer. Very simple terms, most likely for your condition. But you couldn’t help but to feel like a child. Tommy watched the words slip from his crinkling lips. Noticing the way his lips would quiver if you asked too clever of a question. 

You stared at Tommy, his best friend, his brother. Had you destroyed their foundation completely? You felt sick. Not from pain, from the possibility of what you’d done. 

He watched you back, with those dark, charming eyes of his. How easy was it for you to be hypnotized? Did he even have to cast a spell on you, or was it your own free will. Were you tempted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit, too greedy on its costly taste. 

But yet again, where were all of the disgusted, bothered and belittling comments from him? The harsh words he whispered into your ear when people were watching. His rough, dominating hands that made you feel weak. The massive portrait of how much of a burden you were. How badly of a whore you were. 

The temperamental man was dangerously cool. 

Why was the Thomas Shelby here, waiting for you to wake up? 

“How long will it last?” Tommy whispered by the open door, Doctor Stephens blocked out of your view. 

Your wandering, curious eyes poked around, hoping to read lips. But no face was in sight, only the back of Tommy’s head. 

“It depends really, Mr Shelby, it could be days, weeks, months…” he answered unsurely. 

Tommy went silent for a moment, nodding his head as his eyes looked over his shoulder to you. A complete damsel in distress. It brought a softness to his face. 

“Is it possible to be permanent?” he inquired. 

Initially, the doctor laughed. But as he noticed the seriousness in his eyes, he cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt. 

“Depends how severe the trauma was” he answered, a hint of regret for even speaking in such conversation. 

But if Tommy Shelby wanted to talk, you’d better have your words clear. A deep breath left his lips, his shoe clinked on the floorboards as he closed in the distance. 

“When will you know?” Tommy quietly replied. Doctor Stephen’s throat tightened as Tommy loomed over him.  

“Mr Shelby-”

“Thomas” you whined, squirming your aching limbs in the bed, anxious thoughts filling your stomach to the tipping point. 

“Bring in the nurse to help ease her stresses, eh?” Tommy ordered. Doctor Stephens slowly nodded his head. “We’ll talk later” Tommy abruptly ended the conversation before slamming the door shut. 

He tilted his head at you, your heart was pounding again, you thought that you’d soon forget how to breathe. 

“Hey, have some water and just take it easy” Tommy ghosted a smile, pouring you a fresh glass. 

You took a few gulps, hissing at the pain in your throat. 

“Thomas” you gulped, your hand latched onto his. 

You were too desperate for any form of comfort to consider the consequences. Quickly, Tommy climbed back onto the bed and took you into his arms. You heaved out and buried your face into his chest. Mood swings, a common symptom of your condition. 

“Nothing to stress about. Probably just something mild, you’re still very confused. That brain just 

hasn’t fully woken up yet” he chuckled gently. 

For a few minutes, you both laid there in silence, enjoying the calmness before one of the eventual storms. The nurse quickly came and assisted you with a couple of pills. Soon the effects came into play, your body relaxed as you laid on the pillows. Tommy rested back on the seat, brushing his hand through his oiling hair. 

Hesitantly, you looked up to Tommy. Who looked down to you within a blink of the eye. 

“Is Eli coming?” you spoke in hushed tones, half of your face hidden by the pillow. 

Tommy blinked slowly, leant forward and took your cheek in his rough hand. “Remember what I told you?” he whispered, not cruel, yet not kind. 

“I-uh…” you grumbled in defeat. 

“Need you to rest up first, before we talk, alright?” he explained, a smile split through his lips. 

You felt the metal on his left hand as he caressed your face. Your eyes furrowed as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and tugged his hand back.

The gold band around his ring finger shined, his fingers rubbed over the sacred material as he cleared his throat. Yes, some would determine him as a widower, but never had you seen him cherish his past fiancee. His wedding finger was always bare. 

The pieces all fell together, forcing them into place in your mind. Tommy’s eyes flickered from yours to his ring finger. A knowing smile grew ever so slightly on his lips as he returned his gaze to you. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he fetched another cigarette, careless of how close you were to one another.

“Why are you here?”

But then you properly looked at your own ring finger. The diamond that sparkled was not the one that Eli promised you with, but another two. These were bigger, more grand. He lit another cigarette, turned his head to the side and puffed out the ball of smoke. 

“Because my darling” he exhaled, raising his hands besides yours, pressing the rings together. 

And as the weight of that ring settled on your finger, you realised… Whatever life you’d forgotten, it wasn’t yours anymore.

The truth didn’t save you, It didn’t set you free. Instead, it only tightened the chains around your hands and feet, dragging you backwards, pulling you closer to his ice-cold grasp.

Now you know what he was. Now you understand why you were never meant to remember. Now you know that the truth was never your salvation, but your damnation. 

Every room feels smaller. Every wall, closer. Every step, louder than the last. The floorboards echo like warning shots. You run, not because you believe you’ll escape, but because stopping means feeling his hands again.

And if he catches you, he’ll look at you with those same calm eyes. The ones that lie without blinking.

He’ll say your name like it still belongs to him. He’ll ask why you’re afraid, as if he doesn’t already know.

And worst of all… he’ll smile. Because now that you know, the lie is dead. And what he buried is alive and burning. 

The truth came at a high price, one that marked you. Made you prey. He doesn’t chase like a man in love. He hunts like a man punishing what ran from him.

You can hear him, not running, no… walking. Calm. Certain. As if this house is just a cage, and all he has to do is wait for you to wear yourself out. Because only he holds the key.

The dim halls of Arrow House twist like a taunting maze. Flickering lights, thrown by the storm outside, shake your steps as if the hallway rocks beneath your feet. No matter which path you take, there is no escape from his spleen, his skill, his wicked wrath.

With every step, it almost felt as if your feet were sinking into the cold polished wooden planks. 

The nausea of the truth twists in your stomach, a cruel ritual demanding you to swallow it whole. Each movement jabs and kicks at your insides. Your aching heart beats, cracking against your ribs. Every heavy breath constricts your throat tighter.

His patronizing voice booms through the grand walls, mood turning rotten in this game of cat and mouse. He shouts his buried rage and frustration, six feet deep in his mind, uncaring if others hear the storm he’s unleashing. His patience has finally run thin with you.

Sounds bounce around you — you can’t tell if he’s still tailing you. But you know he’ll never let you get away.

An invisible band tightens around your head by the second. Your vision blurs as you stumble aimlessly on the ground floor.

Tommy shakes his head watching your swaying body lean weakly against the wall. You try to hold in the nausea just a little longer.

The incoming storm brewed outside in the darkness. Rumbles of thunder vibrated through the walls, the rain began to fire on the windows like machine guns. But no one felt safe inside the manor. 

The creak of the floorboards echoed. Slow. Measured. Tommy Shelby was calculating your next move in this wicked game of chess.

“Darling…” his voice rang out, smooth and low, dangerous in its calmness. The sudden rage vanished from his chest. “Let’s not make a scene. Come here now, and we can talk properly. Like we always do”.

You turn another corner, trying to get out of his sight. Your stomach clenches. His composure was always premeditated. Designed to keep you lost in your beliefs. He would always outrun you, the only option was to fight or hide. 

Slipping into the drawing room, you pushed the door until it clicked shut. Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the ticking clock. 

But you are a fool indeed, forgetting that every door in this house leads back to him. 

The room was dim, only lit by the faint amber glow of dying firewood in the fireplace. The scent of smoke hung thick in the air. You backed away from the door, stepping cautiously. Rain pounds the windows, demanding to be let in.

There was no exit here, no freedom from his torment. 

You saw the shadow appear from the gap of the door. Trembling, you grabbed the only object within reach, a letter opener on the side table. Clutching it tightly, the door creaked open. His blue eyes locked with yours, mouth open as he slowly nods.

“You misunderstood something” Tommy said, closer now, just passed the door frame. “You’re confused. You always get confused when you’re upset” he sighed, unease dripping from his silver tongue. 

The scary part was that he didn’t sound angry, he was calm, loving even. Like this was a minor misunderstanding over dinner. Something that could be resolved with a simple kiss. 

Silence stretches between you. The distance shrinks between you, until he is inches away from you. He fixed his jacket neatly and tightened his tie. 

“I forgave you the first time you left me, the first time you broke me. You’d be a fool to believe that I will ever let you leave me again” he spoke, words coated not with threat, but with a promise. 

A seal to your fate, a set of chains being held out with a wicked smile, expecting you to lock them on yourself and throw the key away. 

Swinging the sharp metal in his direction, Tommy lunged back, swiftly grabbing hold of your arm, he locked it in a painful hold. Your limb twisted as you cried out in pain. Dropping the opener, he huffed and let go, you stumbled, gathering your balance and looked up to him.  

“Enough love! You’re confused! Can’t you see? Let me help you” Tommy spoke firmly, his hands out as a sign of surrender, comfort, but to also gain control. 

You tried to push past him, Tommy Shelby didn’t like that. 

Stomping his foot on the ground, his shoulders rolled back, he spun you around to face him, his beautiful features painted in a frightening expression. Your eyes widened at him, body froze at his competence. His hands squeezed your biceps like you’re jelly. 

“Just take a moment to breathe…” Tommy huffed out, his rough hands trying to ease your distress. 

For a split second, your panic did ease. All while staring at that caring sparkle buried deep in his eyes. But that kind moment burnt out quicker than putting out a candle wick. 

You shoved him, he grumbled as you hurried down the hall. Biting his rage, Tommy followed after you once more. As you tried to climb up the grand staircase, Tommy’s hand latched onto your wrist, your eyes shot brutal daggers at him. 

“I did what I had to do, to protect you, to protect us!” Tommy snarled, pulling you off the step into his chest. 

Roughly shoving him off, you spat at his delusions painted in crimson. The ruthless gangster never did good out of his heart, only what was required to gain his desires, his ambitions. You were another pawn in his game, the queen in this match of chess. Yet he was the one trying to force you into checkmate. 

“You’re sick Tommy! Sick in the head! Do you hear me? Are the engines still too loud for you?” you yelled, jabbing your fingers harshly onto his forehead. 

Swiftly, he grabbed your arms and pulled you close to him, his mouth heaved by yours. A feral animal had been unleashed in Arrow House and you were a defenceless creature awaiting its fangs.

Lightning strikes. His frustration melts into a sinister grin.

“There’s nothing more sickening than love, my darling. I’m cursed by you! But I don’t ever want to be freed” Tommy smirked wickedly, eyes locked onto your lips. His tongue rolled over his cracked lips as he watched your body shudder. “You need to understand, we are so in love darling. Stop digging into the past, you can’t even comprehend it” Tommy explained slyly, eyes twitching. 

“I know enough, the truth doesn’t lie” you spoke shallowly, he raised his nose from it. 

“Enough with the paranoia, it’s making you act stupid. Can you see why I hid this from you!” he snorted, disbelief thick. “You’re not well darling… Have you taken your medication today, eh? Can you see the tantrum you’re having? Come on, let’s take it and let me tend you to bed hm?” Tommy continued, the look of concern almost believable to be genuine. 

Despite the lovers’ quarrel, his hands roamed carefully over your curves, squeezing your skin in all of his favourite spots. The erection in his trousers pressed against your stomach, you tried to ignore it. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead, a peace offering to let both of your frustrations vanish. You controlled your breathing, blinked back tears.

“I’ll kill you” you threatened, quietly, viciously. 

Tommy smiled innocently as he tilted his head down towards you, his double chin formed. His expression dared you to try. His fingers snaked up to the back of your head, he tugged at your roots, you grunted out.  

“You’ve tried that before, remember where it got you?” Tommy toyed, recalling the past. “Oh wait” he chuckled silently. His free fingers roamed over the delicate skin on your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Forming fists, your knuckles turned white, body trembled with bottled anger. 

He rolled his hips against yours, reigning in his believed easy victory.

As the hatred waved over you again, you drove up your knee to his crotch. Immediately his hold retreated as his hands gripped onto his groin. A restrained groan echoed through the air. 

Free from his chains, you fled down the hall, your steps bounced through every wall in the manor. Tommy bellowed his rage at full volume as he marched after you, his polished shoes colliding so hard on the floors that you swore you heard a snap.

“Listen to me!” Tommy roared like a crazed beast.

When his demand went ignored by you, he ripped a painting off the wall, slamming it to the floor before him. The wood snapped into pieces, canvas torn as he stepped over the wreckage. 

You fling open the back door, the breeze of England’s cold nights wrapped around your bare skin, desperate to take you away from him. Heavy raindrops wash your suffering. The woods hidden in the darkness felt safer than the comfort of his deadly hands. 

The sky rumbled, thunder shook the large clouds. Looking back, you caught the crazed look in his blue orbs growing larger by the second. 

“You’ve got nowhere to go my love! I own you!” Tommy shouted as he closed in on you. 

“I’d rather freeze to death than stay here!” you spat, looking him dead in the eye for a split second before running. 

As you flew out into the darkness, you sprinted over the gravel and dirt, your tears blended perfectly with the rain. 

Tommy stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at your actions, your betrayal. His hand pressed against the revolver in his holster hidden underneath his jacket. “You’re mine! No one else’s eh! Mine!” Tommy announced into the storming, dark sky. 

Chasing after you, his arms swayed from side to side. Heavy pants left both of your lips as your figures drown from the light of Arrow House. Your name echoed painfully through the open air, then it turned into another lighting strike. 

The wind blew the door shut, the impact echoing through every wall. As the house fell silent, the staff dared to breathe and allowed their bodies to move as the danger was finally gone. 

For now.  

Four months earlier.

Blurred thoughts, numb emotions, and stinging sensations looped through your paralyzed body. Flashes of diabolic beings poisoned your mind. It felt like you were plummeting through a bright black hole which had no end. A tempting, familiar yet unrecognizable voice spat threats into your ears.

‘You are mine!’ Those three words echoed louder each time, more vicious,  making your weak body tremble with raw fear.

You tried to scream for any chance of mercy. Pleaded to  any savior to hold his gracious hand out. But your mouth went as dry as draughted land. Your hopes shattered silently, crashing into invisible walls.

Your life flashed before your eyes: picking flowers as a child, the sting of a cruel teacher’s whip, your father’s dying grip, meeting your fiancé — and always him, the man who shattered everything.

Still, in this soul wandering universe, he was haunting you. The hold of your beating heart in his hands as you waited for him to pop it to pieces. 

After finally accepting that this was your eternal purpose, allowing the pain to surge through your blood, you saw a bright light above. 

A man with a shadowed face held out his hand. It looked cautionary, but the familiarity of the detail to the pale skin encouraged you to take a hold. You sighed in relief as you finally felt a sense of warmth bloom inside of you. Then everything around you turned to a piercing white and all sound, thoughts and dreadful suffering vanished within you. 

As you blinked heavily, the first thing you noticed was the light above you, too white, too loud. It hummed above you like it was judging you, speechlessly determining your fate. Your head throbbed, not a headache, at least not yet. More like a thick pulsing fog in your head rubbing against your skull. 

You tried to sit up, only to be met with a stampede of pain crashing through every inch of your body. A snapped, dry groan rose from your cracked lips. 

“Take it slow” a deep voice ordered, composed and stern. 

Gearing your stiff neck like clockwork, you allowed your body and mind to fully awaken. Ringing noises echoed down your eardrums. The blurred vision cleared gradually as you inhaled raggedly. 

The objects slowly painted a bland picture in your mind. The sharp scent of perfume, tobacco and alcohol burned your nose. The dullness of the hospital room weighed heavy on your chest despite your thoughts slowly progressing quicker. 

Your arm was equipped up to an IV drip, your lower body kept warm with a thick white blanket, skin covered in sweat. 

You squeezed your hands in worry, but shuddered as you felt a rough, large hand intertwined with yours. Looking over to your right, you stared in disbelief, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. Tilting your head, you wondered if you were still asleep, praying that this was another nightmare. 

Tommy sat by the side of your thin bed. The redness around his blue orbs was like fire surrounding the sea. Quickly, the strong scent of tobacco shot down to your lungs. You coughed at the smell and grumbled out your physical distress. Like bullets, your nervous eyes shot all over the room. There was no one else here, only you and him. 

Alone with the sleeping beast. 

Questions flooded out of your mind. But you were too shocked, weak and confused to speak. However the question as to why he was right by your side, holding your hand in comfort, was skeptical and disordered. 

“My love, you’re awake” Tommy exhaled, as if he was relieved yet his expression was drained of any spec of happiness. 

A firm squeeze to your hand followed after. You winced, every movement sending waves of pain through your bruised body. Gulping down as you dared to ask him the expected initial questions. Tommy’s head tilted as he tried to read your expressions, body language and mind. 

He wore one of his typical grey suits, material too clean for this place. The jacket hung over the back of the chair. Hostler missing its revolver. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he rested his free elbow on his knee. He’s been here for a while, waiting for you to wake up. 

“What happened?” you bleated out, throat burning, raising your free hand to your aching neck. 

His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet momentarily. As his tongue clicked, he leant closer to you, shaking his head only by an inch. 

He wore his usual grey suit, too clean for this place. His jacket draped over the chair, holster empty. Sleeves rolled up as he rested an elbow on his knee.

“You hit your head, darling,” Tommy said with a soft chuckle, eyes fixed on the fresh white bandage.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you blinked slowly. With your eyes shifting towards the door, his followed, you cleared your throat. 

“I need the doctor” you stated, licking your cracked lips once more. 

“We need to talk first” Tommy sighed loudly, letting go of your hand. He plucked a cigarette on the bedside table. Followed by rolling the end between his lips, he looked back to ensure the window was open. 

“Talk?” your reply was delayed, voice full of wonder, brows scrunched together. 

Tommy snickered as he lit the tobacco and inhaled deeply. Looking you dead in the eye, you felt your heartbeat rise with anticipation. But then a demanding thought bursted through your mind as he began to speak. 

“Yes, I need to know if you’re going to-”

“Where’s Eli?” you questioned urgently, tone dripping of worry and yearning. 

“Pardon?” Tommy frowned suddenly, the lit stick hanging from his lip. 

Your heart pumped blood rapidly through your veins, you craved Eli’s presence. How long have you been out? Had this been why Tommy is here, to watch over you while Eli was still away. The sadness grew inside of you, you wished Eli was the one that held your hand during all of this perplexity. 

“Where is Eli? Is he coming? Please, tell me”” you gulped, blinking your teary eyes towards him. 

“Darling…” The stone expression gave you no comfort, no assurance, no hope. 

“Thomas? Where’s Eli?” you quaked as you tried to decipher his stern expression.

“What do you remember last?” he spoke blankly and slowly. 

“Where’s Eli? The nurse? I want the doctor, Thomas!” you shuddered, panic rising, your skin crawling.

The words became muffled, your limbs began to tremble, your chest rose and dropped like waves in the deep sea. Tommy’s dark eyes analysed every reaction. He pressed the back of his hand to your heated forehead, your throat closing in. 

Dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping the flame out immediately, his face moved much closer to yours. 

“Aye, calm down now sweetheart, we need to talk, remember?” Tommy cooed, his fingers rubbed your sore jaw as he stared into your watery eyes.

“Why are you here Thomas?” you blubbered, voice hollow and scared. 

“What do you mean?” he sighed, holding onto his patience and tranquility. 

Staring into his dark eyes, you tried to find peace in the situation. It wasn’t ordinary for people to wake up to their beloved’s best friend. Especially considering your tainted relationship with Tommy that you desperately wanted to obliterate from existence. 

But the fact that he was here, and not him, sat uneasy in your stomach. Had you done the unbelievable, the unforgivable on multiple ends? Had the ugly truth finally shone in the light. 

“Why are you here, where’s Eli?” you repeat yourself with swelling eyes and trembling lips. 

Another sigh left Tommy’s lips. His hand moved up to your flustered cheek, his eyes low as he admired the skin on your face. 

“My love, just breathe and tell me, what do you last remember, eh?” Tommy spoke calmly. 

You frowned in thought. All of your memories jumbled like you were trapped in a spider’s web. There was no straight line for you to follow. The gears were cranking behind Tommy’s eyes as he waited in anticipation. 

“I-I don’t know, just looking after Charlie” you huffed out, a click left his tongue. 

“Think harder now” he spoke more firmly, ready to be more assertive to get his questions answered. 

You whined in frustration, your throat completely parched. Swaying your head around, you tried to find steady breathing, something to hold onto. One hand massaged your shoulder while the other squeezed your hand tightly. You looked towards him, the rare gentleness beamed in his orbs. Some clarity finally came to your clouded mind.

“Uh, I’ve been at Arrow House for only a few weeks” you answered, relieved that the confusion was finally fading away. 

It went unnoticed with how Tommy’s eyes widened momentarily. As the room turned silent, the only sounds being the humming light and drowned sounds of the city outside, your small moment of peace vanished as you looked back over to him. His expression wasn’t warm. There was something wrong, horribly wrong. 

“Only a few weeks, eh?” Tommy nodded gently, mouth ajar open, his crowded lower teeth showing. 

“What day is it, Thomas?” you hesitated. 

“Perhaps we should get that doctor in” Tommy mumbled as he abruptly stood up, fixing his pants with a rough tug on the waistband. 

You repeated his name in a shaky tone as he strides towards the door. His stance firm, mind moving a lot quicker than his feet. Ignoring your pleas, your hands smacked against the mattress in frustration. 

“Thomas! What day is it!” you demanded, lunging your upper body forward, your lunges heaving in your chest, razor blades running up and down your throat. 

Stubbornly, he kept his eyes pointed onwards, shaking his head at your puny orders. 

“I need to speak to the doctor first” he said vigorously. 

“Dammit! What fucking day is it!” you shouted, your dry throat ached as you fell back onto the bed, defeated. 

His hand rested on the doorknob, his head hung down as he debated on what to do. Turning his head back, he looked at you in pity, caving in easily. 

“August thirteenth, nineteen-thirty-four” he answered. 

It took a long time for you to process his words. Your mind melted into goo and all you could do was feel your heartbeat in a slow rhythm. As the realisation finally snapped in your head, you shook your head in denial. Mouth completely wordless as you narrowed your eyes at Tommy. 

“No, that’s not right…” you whispered.  

Suddenly, your vision cleared as if there was a glossy piece of glass in front of you and Tommy looked different. Now, he didn’t look old, but certainly aged. Like maturing a barrel of whisky. At the top of his head, his hair was grown out a lot more, the front strains fringed around his forehead, the sides evenly shaved. His face had a few more cuts here and there. All of them healed up. His eyes widened as you suddenly choked on your sob. 

“Where’s Eli! Please get a hold of him for me!” you begged pathetically, desperate for Eli to make this make sense 

Tommy blinked as your lungs turned to stone, a panic attack pumping through your blood, on a mission to conquer every inch of your body. His jaw clenched, still yet to blink. 

“Eli isn’t coming, darling” he replied, flat. 

“What?” you gasped silently. 

“I don’t think it’s best for me to tell you too much yet, let me get you that doctor” Tommy nodded, his hand reaching back for the knob. 

“I want Eli, Tommy! Call Eli! Tell him I’m sorry!” you pleaded, even trying to crawl out of the bed, but your lower body ached in agony, you whined out in pain. 

Tommy huffed out under his breath and he approached you. Gently, his hands rested on your biceps, pressing you flat on the bed, pinning your hands at your sides. Brokenly, you allowed him to do so. A flash of sympathy appeared in his eyes. 

“Just breathe, I’ll get the nurse to give you something for your state eh?” Tommy suggested as his body hovered back. 

“Don’t leave me Thomas” you cried, your desperate hands latched onto his shoulders.

His throat swelled as his eyes locked onto your trembling hands. He didn’t hesitate. Slowly, he climbed onto the small bed and wrapped his body around yours like a blanket. You cried into his chest, your body trembled like a delicate flower in the wind. Tommy hummed as he relaxed on the thin bed. Eager to calm you.  

“There, there” he cooed, shifting his hips around slightly to get comfy. “Breathe, you’ll be alright” he whispered as you quietly sobbed into his chest. “You must be so tired, aye?” he murmured, molding his body into yours. 

This was all he wanted, to comfort you, hold you, to take care of you. His soothing words went muffled by your ears, expression unphased. 

Rubbing your dripping nose into his shirt, your tired eyes fell shut. Desperate to wake up from this living nightmare. 

Tommy exhaled and clicked his tongue, his calculating mind turning the cranks once more. He caressed your heated face as he murmured your name. Your breathing eased, grip softened as you fell into a blank state of mind. Tommy breathed silently, rubbing your flustered cheeks.

When you came back to consciousness, Tommy stood by the door with the doctor. His stance was stern like usual. Their words were muffled, all jumbled up in your head, but you could feel his dark eyes through your blurred vision. 

You mumbled out words, shifted your body as you gently moaned. The conversation came to a halt, both of them slowly approached you. 

“Finally awake then my dear?” the doctor smiled gently. “Took quite a fall to the head” he pointed, looking over the bandage. 

You felt calmer. You looked up to the IV drip, a fresh bag connected up. Feeling the soft texture of the white material, you lowered your hand from your face and looked up to them both. 

“What happened to me?” you questioned softly, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders. 

“You had a bit too much to drink and slipped on your gown” the doctor reassured, petting your shoulder gently like you’re a child being looked over for scraping their knee on the gravel. 

“Hit the cased opening” Tommy clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers over the opposite forearms.

Your eyes shot to Tommy. His expression was neutral but there was something dancing in his eyes, the suspicious unavoidable. 

“Why don’t I remember anything” you returned your attention to the doctor.  

“Given your symptoms, your condition is post traumatic amnesia. Since you took such a severe hit to the head, you’ve managed to forget quite a bit of time…” he exhaled. Your breathing shuddered instantly. “All should return in due time” he assured, his shoulders raised as if he could feel the sharp daggers in Tommy’s eyes. “Now you might have trouble storing new memories” he mentioned. 

“I remember waking up to Thomas” you gradually replied. 

“Good, that's a good sign” he smiled softly. 

Doctor Stephens only talked for a little while longer. Very simple terms, most likely for your condition. But you couldn’t help but to feel like a child. Tommy watched the words slip from his crinkling lips. Noticing the way his lips would quiver if you asked too clever of a question. 

You stared at Tommy, his best friend, his brother. Had you destroyed their foundation completely? You felt sick. Not from pain, from the possibility of what you’d done. 

He watched you back, with those dark, charming eyes of his. How easy was it for you to be hypnotized? Did he even have to cast a spell on you, or was it your own free will. Were you tempted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit, too greedy on its costly taste. 

But yet again, where were all of the disgusted, bothered and belittling comments from him? The harsh words he whispered into your ear when people were watching. His rough, dominating hands that made you feel weak. The massive portrait of how much of a burden you were. How badly of a whore you were. 

The temperamental man was dangerously cool. 

Why was the Thomas Shelby here, waiting for you to wake up? 

“How long will it last?” Tommy whispered by the open door, Doctor Stephens blocked out of your view. 

Your wandering, curious eyes poked around, hoping to read lips. But no face was in sight, only the back of Tommy’s head. 

“It depends really, Mr Shelby, it could be days, weeks, months…” he answered unsurely. 

Tommy went silent for a moment, nodding his head as his eyes looked over his shoulder to you. A complete damsel in distress. It brought a softness to his face. 

“Is it possible to be permanent?” he inquired. 

Initially, the doctor laughed. But as he noticed the seriousness in his eyes, he cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt. 

“Depends how severe the trauma was” he answered, a hint of regret for even speaking in such conversation. 

But if Tommy Shelby wanted to talk, you’d better have your words clear. A deep breath left his lips, his shoe clinked on the floorboards as he closed in the distance. 

“When will you know?” Tommy quietly replied. Doctor Stephen’s throat tightened as Tommy loomed over him.  

“Mr Shelby-”

“Thomas” you whined, squirming your aching limbs in the bed, anxious thoughts filling your stomach to the tipping point. 

“Bring in the nurse to help ease her stresses, eh?” Tommy ordered. Doctor Stephens slowly nodded his head. “We’ll talk later” Tommy abruptly ended the conversation before slamming the door shut. 

He tilted his head at you, your heart was pounding again, you thought that you’d soon forget how to breathe. 

“Hey, have some water and just take it easy” Tommy ghosted a smile, pouring you a fresh glass. 

You took a few gulps, hissing at the pain in your throat. 

“Thomas” you gulped, your hand latched onto his. 

You were too desperate for any form of comfort to consider the consequences. Quickly, Tommy climbed back onto the bed and took you into his arms. You heaved out and buried your face into his chest. Mood swings, a common symptom of your condition. 

“Nothing to stress about. Probably just something mild, you’re still very confused. That brain just 

hasn’t fully woken up yet” he chuckled gently. 

For a few minutes, you both laid there in silence, enjoying the calmness before one of the eventual storms. The nurse quickly came and assisted you with a couple of pills. Soon the effects came into play, your body relaxed as you laid on the pillows. Tommy rested back on the seat, brushing his hand through his oiling hair. 

Hesitantly, you looked up to Tommy. Who looked down to you within a blink of the eye. 

“Is Eli coming?” you spoke in hushed tones, half of your face hidden by the pillow. 

Tommy blinked slowly, leant forward and took your cheek in his rough hand. “Remember what I told you?” he whispered, not cruel, yet not kind. 

“I-uh…” you grumbled in defeat. 

“Need you to rest up first, before we talk, alright?” he explained, a smile split through his lips. 

You felt the metal on his left hand as he caressed your face. Your eyes furrowed as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and tugged his hand back.

The gold band around his ring finger shined, his fingers rubbed over the sacred material as he cleared his throat. Yes, some would determine him as a widower, but never had you seen him cherish his past fiancee. His wedding finger was always bare. 

The pieces all fell together, forcing them into place in your mind. Tommy’s eyes flickered from yours to his ring finger. A knowing smile grew ever so slightly on his lips as he returned his gaze to you. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he fetched another cigarette, careless of how close you were to one another.

“Why are you here?”

But then you properly looked at your own ring finger. The diamond that sparkled was not the one that Eli promised you with, but another two. These were bigger, more grand. He lit another cigarette, turned his head to the side and puffed out the ball of smoke. 

“Because my darling” he exhaled, raising his hands besides yours, pressing the rings together. 

And as the weight of that ring settled on your finger, you realised… Whatever life you’d forgotten, it wasn’t yours anymore.

He tells you this is the life you chose. That you belong here. That you belong to him.

You don’t remember saying “yes". You don’t remember the ring. You don’t remember falling in love with the Peaky Devil.

Nothing feels right — not the house, not the vows, not the way he watches you, as if waiting for something to suddenly resurface. He’s calm, patient, and far too practiced.

As you begin to piece together what was stolen from you, the world around you shifts. Faces flinch when you speak. Doors that should open stay locked. Peaked caps watch you from afar. And every comforting word from him feels like silk over smoke — soft to the touch but burning underneath.

The truth is buried deep. In the stories he spins. From the memories too afraid to come to light. And with the skeletons you fear are hidden in his closet.

Some vows are spoken with love. Others are whispered in smoke and silk.

Warnings.| Dark romance, violence, dubcon, smut, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, possessiveness, gaslighting, obsessions, infidelity, controlling actions, mental/emotional abuse, domestic violence, murder.