The Angel Of Death ~ Thomas Shelby

Prolouge

~1918~
The atmosphere in small heath is what can be only described as righteous. Relieved breathes coming from the women throughout the sombre town flowed in the night sky, ascending with the smokes and fumes. The presence of men who came home from war gave women the sense of security, safety and tranquility. Echoes of happiness and glee was heard throughout the streets as all family's gathered in the local pub- the garrison. Not a stool was left unkept and the constant flow of dark mild was being poured by the well known barman Harry.

However, hidden away in the snug, a different atmosphere was shared- a thick tension in the air. Although the garrison was over-pouring with people celebrating the end of the war, there was a decent, safe barrier between the snug and the crowd. It was not a rule, it was just known, nobody is to near the snug unless they are wanting the thrill of danger.

The Shelby family, the most feared family in Birmingham, no one in small heath would dare-no, it would not cross a sane persons mind to look at a Shelby, Gray or anyone with razors showcased in their peaky hats the wrong way as that could only end in two ways, a severe beating or a merciless death- it depended on the day the Shelby's were having.

However on this day, as the Shelby family stayed hidden in the confinement's of the snug, the people of small heath knew that even a breath too loud, too heavy, too close in their direction would be considered suicide. Why you may be thinking?

Their Shelby princess had not returned home.