Crown of a Prince (Finn Shelby)

43.

All over Small heath, one could see the smoke from the burning. It curled high up into the air and mingled with the smog that Birmingham was surrounded by. None of it felt real, the final goodbye and the last words said over them before Tommy and Liam put matches to the wagons. The only part that felt real was Mrs Changretta, walking towards them with a white flag raised. Ailbhe was shocked to find herself wanting to grab Finn’s gun and put a bullet between her eyes. She had been taught by her brothers how to shoot and she was a good shot for someone with limited practice. She knew she’d make the shot when it counted.
 
But she stayed still and silent. She watched as Tommy asked the woman to wait, to give them time to bury their brothers. She nodded, her cold and harsh gaze on them. Ailbhe found it hard to look at her, she looked too like her son Benito, the same dark eyes that seemed bottomless. Ailbhe had felt cold for days now but a shiver ran down her spine looking into those eyes.
 
In the living room of the old Shelby house, Ailbhe felt the cold still even though she sat by the fire. Finn stood behind her, his hands on the back of her chair while Tommy and Polly sat across from Mrs Changretta. Liam stood behind Tommy, knowing that he had to keep his cool. He despised to even breathe the same air as the woman whose son had cut his brothers’ throats but Tommy’s orders were to stay calm. The last thing they needed now was a Kennedy to lose their temper.

Ever since Ailbhe had come back from London she was tougher, more able to handle herself and more confident. But since Benito and Changretta's men had tried to attack her she was fragile, Tommy could see it behind her eyes. She wasn't fragile like a flower, not delicate nor dainty. She was fragile like a bomb, one that could go off when they least expected it.
 
“Your note talked about terms for peace” Mrs Changretta’s voice was cold and hoarse “But my son says there are no terms. You took my husband and two of my sons.”
 
Ailbhe watched her, trying not to see Benito in front of her.
 
“And we took two of your brothers and your comrade, Niall Kennedy”
 
Tommy looked up at her, interrupting her.
 
“Three” His voice was husky and while it sounded unemotional, his family knew Tommy well enough to know he was in bits.
 
Her little eyes glared back at him.
 
“I beg your pardon?” She asked, disdain clear in her tone.
 
“You took three of my brothers, Niall is my brother” He clarified, looking away and catching eyes with Ailbhe’s.
 
“Was” she corrected him sneeringly “He’s nothing but smoke now”
 
Ailbhe felt herself want to lunge out of her seat and put the fire stoke in through her chest but she stopped herself. Finn’s hands on the back of her chair were enough to remind herself where she was and what was asked of her.

Behave. Like an order given to her countless times before she had to listen.
 
“The vendetta is done” Tommy’s voice cut through the silence, hoarse and in undeniable pain.
 
“We say, the vendetta is won” She retorted “We will take everything you have, all your businesses signed over to us.”
 
They had lost, it wasn’t just over. The Italians had ruined them and Ailbhe felt so angry she could scream. Why didn’t Tommy have a plan?
 
“You agree to this” she reminded him, almost mocking them “Or my son will kill you all, one by one”
 
The threat lingered in the air. Ailbhe knew they were not being over dramatic. They would kill everyone in this room. And that wouldn’t be enough. They would kill Ada and Karl the first chance they got. They would root Linda and Billy out of their home in the country and relieve them from their grief. They would find Charlie and Curly in the yard some evening, cut their throats in the dark and throw them in the cut. They would find Isiah and Jeremiah, Scudboat and Lovelock. They would hunt down Esme and the children, every last Lee would be left dead and there wouldn’t be a Peaky Blinder left to tell the tale.
 
“The vendetta is won, that’s it no more killing” Tommy conceded, his expression as though he had given up.
 
Mrs Changretta looked at each of them for a moment.
 
“Who did you think you were Mr Shelby? Who did any of you think you were?” She sneered.
 
The Peaky Blinders would be history and Birmingham would be the property of the Changretta Family before the sun set the following day, given the key by Thomas Shelby.