Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER THREE: FOOL'S GOLD
■ ■ ■ ■ ■
THE FIRST THING SHE noticed was the blood. Crusted around the bruised bridge of her nose, some of it had gotten into her mouth while she was out of it. She coughed and sputtered at the pungent, metallic taste, flinching when the sound of a chuckle cut through the darkness somewhere to the right of her.
It hit her then, that she had no idea where she was, or who she was with. Helen really only knew two things in that moment; according to her captor, she was Tommy Shelby's wife, a cruel woman who hadn't hesitated to bludgeon a man's eye — that, and she was completely and utterly alone, an odd thing for the wife of a gangster.
"Good to see you're finally awake, Mrs Shelby." The man with the cane stepped out of the shadows into a square of light coming from the window. Slowly, Helen realised she was in an office of some kind, separated from her captor only by an oak wood desk. She watched the darkness behind him cautiously, but no one else followed after him. She wasn't sure if her relief was justified. "I was meaning for this to be a quick chat, but as you can see, you were out far longer than we expected. Apologies."
A flicker of panic roared in her chest then. Helen attempted to lean forward, the feeling flaring like a wildfire when ropes kept her arms firmly in place. "Where am I?" she demanded, sneering when he laughed at her. "And who the fuck are you?"
Something like disgust morphed the man's features. His laughter was quick to fade into silence, allowing a cold warning, "Now, that's no way for a lady to speak, Mrs Shelby."
Helen scoffed. "Apologies. I seem to have forgotten my manners. What I meant to say was — who the fuck are you, Sir?"
For a tense moment, he seemed to contemplate hitting her again. The knuckles around his cane went white as he brandished it towards her like a sword, forcing her chin up so her eyes had no choice but to meet his. Helen gulped, the man's eyes keenly tracking the movement. "No more games, Mrs Shelby. We only want to know about the robbery."
"What robbery?"
A naive part of her was waiting for Tommy to break down the door, to save her from this man and the cane still pressed uncomfortably against her neck. But Tommy didn't owe her anything anymore, and even if he did somehow find out where she was and what had happened to her, Helen truly wasn't sure if he'd come for her.
She would've come for him in a heartbeat.
"Mrs Shelby, if there is one thing I hate most in this world, it's a liar. Liars and women who don't know their place." Closer and closer, the cane inched forward, until a trickle of blood had spilled down Helen's neck. Fruitlessly, she strained at the ropes around her wrists, wincing when they created lesions on her skin, red and raw. "Now, I'll give you one more chance. What do you know about the robbery?"
