𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 🍞PEAKY BLINDERS 🥖

Chapter Eighty-Seven

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

Ozzy didn't want to know how fast they were driving.

Faster than any car had the right, surely.

He gripped the side of the door until his knuckles turned white and they cramped.

Tommy barked orders at the driver, and occasionally lifted himself over to steer the car itself. They twisted between lanes and Ozzy heard sirens gaining on them.

He covered his ears as the car nearly collided headfirst into a truck. Another headache was forming. One that pounded like footfalls in his bones—he knew this one would be awful. He felt trapped in the back of the car and in the back of Tommy's rage. The desperation leaking from the man made Ozzy want to vomit. Could this be the last time either of them saw Kizzie?

Just an hour ago, Ozzy was sitting in the stands watching two men beat each other into the ground. He didn't want to be there. He wasn't asked to come, but something inside him told him to. This moment, right here, maybe.

Ozzy got to witness Tommy in the past few days since Kizzie stopped talking to him. A paranoia took over him.

Going over to Alfie's to see her felt like a bizarre betrayal to Tommy. Ozzy had no real love for the man. Respected the hell out of him, but that was about it. He wished that Tommy was nicer to Kizzie—treated her like a normal person the way he treated Ada.

Ozzy was proud of his friend. She did not fold in the face of Tommy's pleading. He was a hard man, all sharp and jagged. If Ozzy had to be honest with himself, he didn't expect Kizzie to go this long without speaking to her brother.

Ozzy was suddenly slammed against the driver's seat.

"Fuck!" Tommy cried. "Around, around! Go around!"

A blockade of crashed cars, smoking from their engines. From the wreckage, Ozzy couldn't see which direction Kizzie's car went off in.

"Go!"

The car lurched forward and spun to the right to avoid the cars. Ozzy remained silent, despite the rising pain in his head and the bruises surely forming on his skin from slamming against the seat. Nothing mattered right now to Tommy. Nothing except saving Kizzie.

They had followed the blood trail in the venue. Ozzy found the blade on the ground first—golden with a butterfly handle.

"Tommy!" he had called. "Over here!"

The man launched himself in Ozzy's direction. "What did you find?"

He pointed to the blood and blade.

Something of a smile lifted Tommy's face. "This is hers." With delicate fingers, he collected the blade and placed it inside his pocket.

"Tommy!"

Both of them sprung into action at hearing her screaming.

"Kizzie!"

They followed her voice down the stairs. Tommy ran down first. Ozzy had to hold onto the railing to prevent another dizzying episode from occurring—stairs did that lately. Fingernails and blood pebbled the rails. He did not stop Tommy to tell him.

The car turned down the street and Ozzy wondered, for the first time, where Alfie was.

He dared not ask Tommy. The men who took her looked familiar. Ozzy couldn't imagine that Alfie would put Kizzie in purposeful danger, but had he tried yet again to swindle Tommy? To spite him? Perhaps for what he did to Kizzie. Ozzy wouldn't put it past Alfie.

And it made Ozzy throw up in his mouth.

Kizzie's car came into view, swerving to avoid people and cars and the approaching police.

Tommy's driver pressed harder on the gas.

An oncoming car ran the redlight up ahead. Kizzie's car collided into it. The engine exploded into a volcano of fire and smoke.

Their driver slammed onto the brake and the car glided to a screeching stop.

"Kizzie!"

Tommy fell out of the car and landed on his knees before running for the inflamed car. Ozzy followed. He no longer felt his soul in his body. The fire consumed the car like a heavy blanket. Kizzie banged on the doors and back window to escape, but was unable to break the glass. Ozzy could barely see her face. Another surge of fire engulfed more of the car. Her curls singed. Muffled, strangled screams left her throat.

"Kizzie!"

Ozzy ran harder and tackled Tommy to the ground. The fire had already consumed the backseat. Another explosion shattered glass and fire and remaining gas into the night sky. Sirens behind them blared and their red and blue lights made purple against the damaged cobblestone.

Tommy wrestled Ozzy off of him, but Ozzy was younger, healthier despite his eye. He gripped the back of Tommy's arms and brought him to the ground once more. The man shook like an earthquake. His face planted itself against the ground. Every cry was felt through Ozzy like the thrum of a loudspeaker.

Ozzy looked up at the blazing car. He couldn't see Kizzie anymore—only fire.

"No!"

A firetruck pulled alongside them. From a safe distance, men began to extinguish the fire.

Tommy sobbed and cried like a newborn. Slammed the ground with his hands. He spoke in Shelta, a single word that Ozzy heard him say a million times to Kizzie. He still didn't know what it meant. Never had the balls to ask... Didn't much matter anymore.

Ozzy rolled away from Tommy. The vomit stuck in his throat expelled onto the street, harsh and bitter. A surge of hot wind from the fire blasted his cheek. The smell of burned skin and rubber flooded his nose. He smeared away the snot and tears.

Ozzy fell onto his back as Tommy jumped onto him. His fists pounded Ozzy's face. With tears in his eyes and vomit still on his lips, he couldn't see or breathe. Blood pooled on his face and fell like a river down the side and onto the ground. Tommy blamed Ozzy, screamed so in his face. Believed he could save her. But she was dead before they even arrived. Ozzy had a sense for death these days, felt it in his heart on the drive.

Kizzie wasn't getting saved this time.

Author's Note:

Well, you know what Ethel Cain once said, "God loves you, but not enough to save you."