It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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MERCEDES' WORST ENEMY IS HER MEMORIES, for every night she would battle with her own mind to forget the painful memories she had. But, they would always figure out a way to surface—they'd crawl from the darkest depths of her mind, festering her down to the bones, and those memories triggered her to stay in that place for the rest of her life, never moving forward. Yet she knew that she couldn't outrun her past much longer, soon, she had to stop running away from it but instead run towards her memories.
"I am with a child..." the woman whispered, her hair swaying from the cold wind of October. They were meeting in secret in front of the Narra tree at the crack of dawn as if they were afraid someone would catch them. "Your child," she added, earning a loud gasp from Iago.
"A—are you telling me the truth?" his voice trembling with excitement. When she nodded, he drew her into a loving hug, "Thank you so much, I love you..." Iago muttered with a smile that reached his eyes.
"Miss?" a soft knock on the cabin's door made her eyes shot up, "We are landing soon, please prepare all of your belongings," the man continued, she heard the faint footsteps of the man walking away from her cabin.
Mercedes couldn't sleep for the past few days in anticipation of reuniting with her sister, just few more hours and Soledad would be in her arms. Three months of travel on a ship was dreadful and exhausting, including the fact that she hated oceans, but she was left with no choice—she had to get her sister back. By hook or by crook.
Her return to the Philippines took a very different route—they had to sail around the Cape of Good Hope to India, and three weeks later, they were in the Celebes Sea. The bottom line was that their voyage went without a hitch. It was a huge relief for her that there have been no storms during their sailing. A reenactment of the RMS Titanic, which sank seven years ago, was the last thing she wanted.
Thomas Shelby had prepared a luxurious room for her travels, and he definitely didn't take no for an answer. He also slipped a big wad of cash into her suitcase and only found out after she set foot inside the room. Mercy was embarrassed to admit that the money he gave would be a great help, two tickets to Europe would cost a lot. Even though she had saved up money, it wouldn't be enough for her and her sister's expenses.
After all, her intuition was somehow wrong, so she never asked Thomas about the blonde barmaid again. Thomas didn't choose Grace because if he did, she'd be sleeping next to him and kissing him—but Mercy was.
Alfie, on the other hand, was seething in anger when he learned of what happened the night he left for Margate. He was livid with that Spanish fucker, but he was more hopping mad with himself. Mercedes could've died that night, and yet there he was, driving to the fucking beach to get away from the guilt and shame that had followed him around since he kissed her. He promised himself that he would never let it happen again, and he would show no mercy to anyone who'd dare to harm her.
