Falling Free

-Twenty Five-

Alfie was astounded. Astounded and livid. That fucking old bastard. How fucking dare he threaten his wife and how dare he think he could turn up after God only knew many fucking years and think they could play happy families again. Only Alfie wasn't stupid; he knew that once his father had gotten what he wanted in destroying the Shelbys that he would have no qualms in destroying his son, just as Janowicz had all but admitted. But Alfie also knew that now he needed to do something he hadn't wanted to; he needed to inform Tommy. Which was why he and Niamh, along with a handful of men that he knew he could trust irrevocably, were pulling up to Arrow House after having set off almost as soon as Niamh had been released from jail.

Now that Tommy was engaged and expecting a child, he had finally decided to put all of that extra money he was making to good use and had purchased what could only be described as a great big fucking mansion. Alfie had been surprised that the vast land it was set upon didn't come with a lordship or some other toff nonsense.

Turning his head to glance at his wife, Alfie's heart clenched painfully. Aside from relaying his father's message, she had refused to utter another word to him and when he had reached out multiple times during the journey to take her hand, she had clenched her jaw and turned her back to him in lieu of staring out of the window. She was still upset with him; he knew that and he also knew he had to respect that, but he so desperately wished she could change her mind or that she could at least acknowledge an understanding of the situation he had been forced into.

As well as dealing with the inner turmoil he felt regarding Niamh, the unexpected arrival of the man he called father but who he regarded as little more than a sperm donor, had forced Alfie to confront demons that he thought had been exorcised a long time ago. He was forced to acknowledge that the little boy he had once been, who had been forced to grow up too quickly, was still bitter and still hurt. It was fucking fanciful really to be in his mid-thirties and somehow feeling like he was that eight year old child again who had been left with nothing more than a hat and his mother's tears as a reminder of the man who should have provided for him, raised him and moulded him. But the man's absence had moulded Alfie; it had helped him to become the ruthless businessman he was today and the king of an empire he had built from the bottom up. And as much as little Alfie wanted nothing more than to believe that his father finally wanted him, that his father might be proud of him, the Alfie grown didn't give a flying fuck. Which was where the difficulties inside of Alfie's mind lay; the twisted trap of emotions that he had no desire to feel. One thing Alfie knew for certain though was that no matter how much it would hurt the little lad inside of him, he would be damned if his old man would waltz into his life and get what he wanted. Not now.

No fucking chance.

The car came to a halt as the reached the front of the magnificent home that Tommy Shelby and his soon to be wife called home, and Niamh was out of it, tearing up the steps to the front door before Alfie could even stop her. A maid answered the door and Niamh was quickly ushered inside as Alfie climbed out of the car himself, giving instructions for the men he had brought with him to scatter around the perimeter of the mansion.

"Why the fuck is my sister crying her eyes out in her fucking night dress?" Tommy appeared in the doorway as Alfie approached.

"Lovely house you've got Thomas," Alfie murmured. "Only expecting one baby aren't you, not a whole tribe of 'em? Then again you gypsies breed like fuckin' vermin, don't you?"

"I'm not in the mood for your little comments today, Alfie," Tommy spat, his eyes the same colour as his sister's glowering. "If you want to step foot inside my house then you'll start talking."

Closing his eyes briefly, Alfie sighed. His perky facade was nothing more than a way to try and keep the upper hand when it came to what was going to happen next. Just because he loved Niamh and he had married into this family of fucking gypsy degenerates didn't mean he was going to let them walk all over him now that he needed their help. But then Niamh's face as she had told him she didn't think she could ever trust him again flashed through his mind and Alfie Solomons, the gangster, dissipated into Alfie Solomons, the husband.