𝕻𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖞 𝕭𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 ~ 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕺𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

𝔜𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢 ℌ𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡 ~ 𝔗𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔰 𝔖𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔟𝔶

~♡~

~♡~

•As I stood by the window of our humble home, my heart pounded in sync with the distant echoes of footsteps outside. The flickering streetlights cast eerie shadows, illuminating the raw intensity etched into Thomas's face.

When the knock shattered the silence, a cold shiver ran down my spine. As I opened the door, a cold shiver ran down my spine. There stood Thomas, flanked by his loyal brothers, their eyes burning with an intensity that sent chills down my spine. The fervent zeal in their gaze filled me with unease, reminding me of the perilous world we inhabited.

It was a stark reminder of Thomas's unwavering determination to protect what he considered his, no matter the cost.

"Anna," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "I must attend to some unfinished business. Wait for me here." His eyes bore into mine with a mixture of intensity and tenderness. He came near me and whispered huskily in my ear. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you, Anna. You're everything to me. I'll be back before you know it."

With a nod, I could only watch in silence as Thomas disappeared into the night, swallowed by the darkness like a predator on the prowl. No words could capture the mixture of fear and resignation that filled my heart, knowing the ruthless path he was about to tread once again.

~

With grim determination, Thomas led his brothers through the treacherous depths of Birmingham, where the shadows held sway over the hearts of men. Each step echoed with the weight of their purpose, the air thick with the promise of impending violence.

As they descended into the heart of the darkness, Thomas felt the familiar chill of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Here, in this dangerous realm where only the ruthless thrived, he held dominion. His reputation preceded him, casting a long shadow over the trembling souls who dared to cross his path.

In the dimly lit basement, their victim awaited, bound and vulnerable, a testament to Thomas's relentless pursuit of power. His gaze met Thomas's with a mixture of fear and defiance, but it mattered little in the face of Thomas's unwavering resolve.

This was his domain, a realm where fear was currency, and mercy a luxury he could ill afford. With a steely gaze, Thomas took control of the situation, his every move calculated, his every word laced with danger.

With a calculated calmness, Thomas retrieved a chair from the shadows and settled into its worn embrace, his presence commanding the room. His brothers flanked the trembling victim, their faces twisted into amused grins, a chilling display of the power they wielded in this dangerous realm.

"You see, my friend," Thomas began, his voice low and menacing, "it was a grave mistake to lay eyes on my wife. You've trespassed into dangerous territory, and now you must face the consequences."

His words carried a weight that reverberated through the dimly lit basement, the captive's eyes widening in fear as he realized the gravity of his transgression.

"But fear not," Thomas continued, a dangerous glint in his eye, "I'm not without mercy. However, mercy comes at a price, and unfortunately for you, that price has already been paid."

With a gesture, Thomas motioned for his brothers to step forward, their menacing grins sending a chill down the captive's spine.

"You see," Thomas continued, his voice dripping with cold determination, "looking at my wife was your big mistake. But it was your last mistake as well because I'm the only person who can look at her like that."

With a cold resolve, Thomas retrieved the knife that Arthur had entrusted to him, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. Without hesitation he rammed the knife into the right eye.

The captive's screams echoed through the basement as the blade plunged into his eyes, a gruesome testament to the price of defiance in Thomas Shelby's world. Blood pooled at his feet as Thomas withdrew the knife, his expression impassive as he surveyed  the scene before him.

With a chilling calmness, Thomas leaned in close to the writhing figure before him, the scent of blood thick in the air.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Do you understand the consequences of your actions?"

Through gritted teeth and amidst the agony pulsating through his body, the victim summoned whatever defiance he could muster.

"Fuck off," he spat, his voice strained and filled with a bitter defiance.

Thomas didn't like this answer at all, so he raised the knife again and stabbed him in the left eye. He repeated his actions until the knife reached the victims brain and he pulled the entire destroyed eye out of its socket.

The eye fell off the knife and rolled over to Arthur, who just stomped on it several times with a cold expression so that the ball became a complete pulp.

As time wore on, the victim's struggles grew weaker, his body gradually succumbing to the brutality inflicted upon it. The basement fell silent, save for the occasional whimper that escaped the lips of the dying man.

With a cold detachment, Thomas watched as life ebbed away from the broken figure before him. The darkness seemed to close in, swallowing the scene whole, as if bearing witness to the final moments of a doomed soul.

And then, with a final, ragged breath, the victim's body fell limp, the silence of death settling over the room like a heavy shroud.

With a sinister grin spreading across his lips, John leaned in close to the lifeless body and whispered, "Looks like someone forgot the first rule of Birmingham—never cross Thomas Shelby."

His words echoed through the silent basement, a chilling reminder of the merciless world they inhabited. And as he surveyed the scene before him, John's grin widened, a twisted reflection of the darkness that lurked within him.

Arthur's stern expression remained as he addressed John, his tone serious and firm. "Enough, John," he growled, his voice heavy with disdain. "This ain't a bloody game. Show some respect for the dead."

But then, as if a switch had been flipped, Arthur's demeanor turned into a grin, and a chuckle escaped his lips. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he exchanged a glance with his brothers, the tension of the moment giving way to a shared amusement.

"Ah, bugger it," Arthur exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. "We're a right bunch of bloody lunatics, aren't we?"

His brothers joined in the laughter, the echoes of their amusement filling the basement. In that moment, amidst the darkness and the chaos, they found solace in each other's company, united by a bond forged in the fires of Birmingham's dangerous streets.

As the laughter subsided and a somber quiet settled over the basement, Thomas approached the lifeless body of the victim. With a cold finality, Thomas leaned in close to the lifeless body, his voice low and menacing.

"Remember this," he began, his words carrying a weight that seemed to echo through the silent basement. "My wife is not to be looked at, not to be touched.
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...You paid the price for forgetting that."