Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 43

Calloway

"We've found them."

Michael lurches to his feet at once as Tommy enters the house, leaving Polly's roast chicken forgotten on the table. My own cutlery falls to my plate with a clatter.

"Who?" I ask.

"The men who attacked you," Tommy replies evenly. "Michael, grab your coat."

"Not fucking happening," Polly says as she stands to her feet. "Michael, you stay here. Your cousins can deal with this."

Michael won't listen to her words. He glances at me, eyes filled with concern and determination as he places a hand on my shoulder. "I'll be back soon, Cal. Trust me."

My heart pounds as I meet his gaze. "I'm coming with you," I say, standing to my feet.

"No," he replies firmly. "Stay here."

"I tried to kill them once, I want to finish the job," I scowl.

"You're not coming," Tommy calls from the door. He rolls a cigarette across his lips, lights it. "But, should you choose to disagree, we'll be at the factory south of Alvechurch. And—"

"That's enough, Tommy," Michael demands, slipping into his coat in the hallway.

Tommy shrugs, and Michael quickly takes me in his hands, kissing me goodbye until I'm breathless.

"I won't be long," he murmurs. "You fucking stay here. Alright?"

"Alright," I whisper. "Be careful."

"Have a good evening, Pol," Tommy calls back as they leave.

The door closes and reverberates through the silent house. Silent for only a moment, before Polly's fuming with anger.

She paces back and forth, muttering under her breath and drinking from a goblet. I watch her, feeling an empty sense of agitation broiling in my chest.

"Are we expected to just sit here and do nothing?" I ask.

"That's what it bloody looks like." Polly tips back her drink. "I'll have words for Tommy. I'll have words for them bloody all."

"We need to be there." I stand to my feet. "If anything happens to him..."

"And what if anything happens to you?" She asks. Her eyes shine in the light. "I've never seen my son smile like he does when he looks at you. If you got hurt again, he'd never forgive himself. Or me, or any of us. And as for me..." She sniffs. "I've already lost a daughter. I have no intentions on losing another. Not in this life." She gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

I close my eyes softly, her words piercing my heart. "And if we lose Michael?"

Polly shakes her head, unable to find the words. Settles on, "Fucking Tommy."

"He told us where they are, Pol. He wanted us to know."

"Doesn't do anything by bloody accident," she mutters, lighting a cigarette. Appraises me for a moment. "Michael taught you to shoot?"

I nod.

"Alright," she relents. "Fine. But you stay close to me, and you listen to everything I say, alright?"

I wrap my arms around her. "Thanks, Polly."

She rolls her eyes, but I see the flicker of a smile as we head towards the car.

***

The abandoned factory's black like coal and tar and ash, and though the smell of all three linger in the air, no plumes of smoke escape the chimneys into the night.

"I don't fucking like this," Polly breathes, the car swerving slightly owing to her marginally impaired reflexes — on account of all the gin.

But she's sober as a judge as the sound of gunshots and men's shouts rips through the air.

My fist clenches around the pistol Michael gave me as we run from the car, not bothering to even shut off the engine as we storm into the building. There's chaos and pandemonium everywhere — Arthur has one man in a headlock, while John's smashing another's head repeatedly into a wall. Tommy kicks a man senseless into the ground.

None of them see the other man in the shadows lift his gun, aiming right for Tommy.

Lightning fast and relying on pure instinct, I lift my pistol and shoot. He flails backwards and hits the concrete ground — the Shelby's all turn to look in amazement.

"Where's Michael?" Polly calls to Tommy amidst the chaos.

But my feet carry me without waiting for an answer, through the room and round the corner, towards a machine whirring ominously. As I step into the hallway, I see one of Mosley's men shoving Michael, smashing his head down towards the grinder capable of crushing coal and steel into pieces. Michael's face barely inches away as he struggles to fight him off.

My blood slows. My heartbeat stills in my chest, allowing me not so much as a tremble as I lift the gun and shoot once more. I hit him in the head and he drops like a sandbag, while Michael turns, pulling his own gun from his pocket and aiming at me.

"Cal?" He pants in disbelief. Then, it turns to fury. "I fucking told you to stay home!"

"And you'd be mincemeat if I'd done so!" I shout back, adrenaline now flooding through me, my heart hammering at twice its usual pace as though making up for lost time.

I approach him, taking him in my hands as I shake. I've been so loathe to admit it. To concede just how deep my feelings for Michael run — it's like I can feel it in my very bones. And suddenly I understand his words from the hotel, words I'd once discounted as a liar's words. You're in my fucking veins, Calloway. And I can't get you out.

And then I hit him. He recoils, staring at me as though I've lost my mind.

"What happened to getting him in the carotid fucking artery?" I ask, still trembling. Still fighting to recover from the shock of almost losing Michael. "Or the fucking eyes?"

"I told you it's different in practice!" He shouts back.

"I don't see anyone else with their face pressed to the fucking grinder!"

Michael's eyes narrow. "I unloaded all my bullets into the bastard who laughed when he said next time he dropped you at my door, you'd be dead." I fall silent. "I wasn't fucking thinking, alright?"

"You don't get to not think," I tell him quietly, my voice shaking. "You don't get to... You don't get to do that to me."

"Do what, Cal?"

My voice breaks. Tears well in my eyes, a mixture of anger and relief and fear. "You fucking — You scared the hell out of me. I thought I was about to lose you."

He blinks slowly. "I'm here, Cal. I'm not going anywhere."

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. Michael steps in towards me, and he looks deeply into my eyes. It's like my own fear is mirrored there. The fear of losing each other. The fear of what we've become, what any of this means.

"Calloway," he says softly, murmuring my name like it's heaven-sent. "I... I lov—"

"Calloway?" Tommy's voice calls out, booming through the air. We both flinch and step apart. "Michael?"

"We're here," I call back. I turn reluctantly from Michael, and we head back to the others. "Is everyone okay?"

Tommy nods. "Johnny Dogs got cut, but he'll be fine. Michael, we need to go back and get more men to clean this up."

"He'll come for us now, Tom," John says, suddenly grim as he wipes blood from his mouth.

"Aye," says Tommy as he lights a cigarette. "I'm fucking counting on it."