❝If you want me. EARN ME!❞
❝Alright. I'll earn you, I'll do it.❞
in which amara singh, a former employee to the shelby's is ready to move on with her life beyond their gang empire and open her own business. if only thomas shelby was ready to let her...
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1919
SMALL HEATH, BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND
THE GREAT ESCAPE was something she was known for. Her name breathed the air of people with problems like she was god herself. Her number was called in urgency and a contract was signed almost every time. Her success rate was high like the loyalty of her employees. The fire in her brewed over the buildings in the distance, over the rusting bridges and over to canals. From county to county and even when she left ━ even when she'd left, the fire still burnt and it seemed to never blow out. It was fierce, brewing and scorched anything in her path. And it was almost as remarkable as the title of successful businesswoman in 1919. The business had only been settled in the fine walls of the former Burlington house for a few months but it had been made years ago, started on the grounds of London slums and slowly worked her way up until it was engrained to the English business world, flourishing like it was made a thousand years and would live for a thousand years.
Birmingham's richest and snobbiest men lived in this area ━ the country where land takes over. They locked their gold up in the walls of houses, having the dogs they heat with their sticks as guard over it but the dogs were not close to being beaten as the wives, looking twice their ages and half as bright. She wouldn't turn a blind eye for it, she never has and never would.
"Problems?" Amara laughed, even when she was penniless and waiting for her twenty-fifth birthday. "Every problem can be fixed, if you just have the mind for it."
Even years later, she followed that rule ━ a vow of promise, for the sins of her name. Her last name. Sins she wished she still had the youth to not know. But, she did know and before falling at the devil's feet, she would fix almost everything she found because that is what fixers do.
Amara looked at her client and saw a mirror of herself. It was far too similar for her liking. Not the golden blonde hair, the crystal blue eyes, or pale white skin. It was the way she was running━ running for her life. And all those years ago, she was in her position and she ran whenever she felt death come closer. it was in the death, splattered on footpaths of cobblestone and shadowed the sunlight. Their reasons had been different, reflected in the client's bruising, her smoked eye and her precious bump that had miraculously survived every kick by her husband's foot. Only Amara didn't have the luck of five people surrounding her with a promise of a new life but Katelyn Lockwood did. She faced what no woman of aristocracy should have. Three years or more on the streets of London, surging on crumbs on pebbles and raindrops on the pavement. That no one helped her out of the hole her uncle pushed her in. She still felt the pain from the bruise and if she tried in the darkness she could see the violets. But this moment was not about her, or her past. It was about Katelyn Lockwood becoming Wendy Collins and catching a train out of the devil-cursed city of Birmingham.
