Heavy is the Head ||A Peaky Blinder Fanfic||

9| Trust Unravelling

"Mollie! Mollie May!" Arthur yelled as he stomped through the house, knocking over a bowl on his way past the kitchen. "Where the fuck are you? Ah there you are." He said as he found her on the couch in front of the fire. She was sitting with a sewing needle attempting to hem a skirt. Having never been good at sewing, she had given up quickly and put a hand to her aching head. Arthur watched her from the hall, surprised she hadn't heard him come in.

"Mollie." He repeated louder. She sat up startled and rubbed her right ear furiously, "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in." she apologised.

"You al'ight?" he asked when he sat down into her armchair opposite her. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" she ignored his gaze and watched the dying fire, still desperate not to have to talk to him about their stand-off at the wedding.

"Well, have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently?" he laughed, but she knew it wasn't funny. She had in fact seen herself last night. The bruises that covered her neck and cheek was nothing to the scratches and cuts littering her whole face from the fight at the wedding.

Her muscles ached and her head throbbed, not to mention the deep gash and red raw skin on her right hand from the night before.

"Mollie May, you look like shit." She nodded and a smile cracked across her dry lips, "I do, don't I." she laughed slightly. "What happened to you. What happened at the wedding?" she gave him a look as she leaned back into the couch.

He watched her carefully as she fiddled with the necklace around her neck. "I wasn't actually going to shoot you." She tried to explain but he just nodded and smiled. "Oh, I know you wouldn't shoot me. I'd shoot you right back. But I wasn't talking about that. What were you doing, racing off into the night with a gun?"

"I had to meet a man." She narrowed her eyes, trying to keep it as vague as possible. "Did the Italians put you up to it?" Arthur asked, half understanding.

She shook her head, "I wanted to." "Don't lie to me." Arthur cut her off and reached over to take her hand. He turned over her palm and looked with sad eyes at the peeling skin and healing cut. His fingers brushed against it gingerly causing her to wince slightly.

"Who did this to you? Why did you let them?" he asked her, his voice breaking slightly as he fought to stay calm. His eyes shining over as he gazed into her bright blue ones, the darkness from the wedding nowhere in sight.

"I didn't let anyone do anything." She told him in a quiet voice. Her eyes shining over too. "I chose it, Arthur." She pulled her hand out of his and closed her fingers around the hot skin and smiled up at him, "And they've accepted me, Arthur. I'm in."

"What do you mean you're in?" She just smiled at him, a bright glowing smile as she thought back to the night before. "You won't understand."

"I want to. I want to understand, but you have to explain it to me. It's the Italians isn't it." She nodded and Arthur sat back, his hands running through his hair as it clicked in his mind. "You're with them now." She nodded, looking away from him and back to the fire.

"The fucking whops." He growled. She shot him a warning look and he held up his hands and sighed. "This is why I didn't want to tell you. Or John, or Tommy." "Right, yeah, sorry."

"So, what, you just join them, if you feel like it?"

She smirked at his simple thinking, "No, you can't. I got 'invited', I suppose you could say." He looked at her to continue, "George King came to me a couple of months ago. You know, Leon Kings father. My father in-law." "Yes, yes. I know who George is, fuck sake." He waved her off and she raised her eyebrows with a smirk.