Forbidden Alliances // Alfie Solomons Peaky Blinders

(111) Daddy Issues (and not the good kind)

*edited 03/30/23*

"Who else knows you're here?" Tommy asked, pulling the car into drive and only speaking up when they left through the front gate.

She knew this was going to come up. She knew Tommy would take notice of her abrupt leave and wonder who and why they needed to talk to her during their affairs. But what she found strange was that he didn't ask who Callum was to her. His full name was said and yet he refrained from asking the obvious question.

"Just our brothers and Polly," Freya replied nonchalantly, deciding to approach the situation as calmly and as vaguely as possible.

"But that wasn't who called," Tommy added, pulling another cigarette to his lips once he was met with a stop sign. "A Callum Hoggan, if I recall..."

"Someone from the housing offices," she lied. "There's been damage to the housing of our distillery workers due to some local construction. Don't know how he managed to know where I was at but..." She rose her finger to the air satisfactorily, hoping her good news would override his suspicion. "I was on the upper level of the house and I think I have a pretty good idea about where these jewels might be hidden..."

***

Once Tommy dropped her off at her place, she was straight off to the border. She didn't have time to change out of her frocks or give her toes a break from their pointed shoes because she needed to make sure someone wasn't dead or missing at The Confessional.

She parked the car in front of the building and raced inside. The lights were dim, making the inside look completely dark from the outside. When she entered, there was broken glass crunching under her feet, and tables and chairs were flung all over the interior.

"Fucking hell..." she drew out.

The microphone at the front of the stage was bent and broken, the chairs were almost all on their sides or broken, there were remanents of a broken table being pushed into the backroom, the place reeked of alcohol, and more glass littered the bar area. But what alarmed Freya most was the little droplets of blood that she found on the wooden floors of the club.

"Callum!" she called out, seeing only a few bartenders cleaning up all the broken glass and shifting the broken furniture into the back where the dumpster was behind the building. "Callum!" she called out again, causing someone to come rushing out of one of the rooms on the third floor where the cots and storage were.

"Pip..." she sighed, resting her hand on her heart and moving toward the center of the room.

"He's gone," the kid said. "Pops, he..." The kid started to shake his head as he hesitantly stepped foot on the ground floor. "He's not gonna be charged, is he? Or killed? Because he didn't mean tuh make this sort uh... mess, Freya, I swear, he was just... drunk. He didn't mean it..."

"Hey, whoa." She put her hands up in protest to shut the kid up. "Calm down," she immediately responded. "Nothing bad is going to happen to your dad, alright? He didn't kill anybody now, did he?" Her tone turned to warn him of the outcome and the absence of the owner of the club made her nerves a little more frayed as time went on.

She hoped the man behaved himself.

"What? I-I... He's not gonna be hurt, right?" Pip's eyes were shifting rapidly between her eyes and his foot had gone back to the first step of the stairs in fear.

"Kid..." she drew out. "He didn't kill anybody... Did he?" she repeated her question, taking a few steps forward which caused him to take a few steps up the stairs.

"He... no, Freya, he didn't mean-"

"Pip," she stated more sternly. "Tell me what happened so I can tell you what I can do to help you, alright?"