𝐀𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧, the air was thick with tension. They had barely caught their breath before spilling the story of what had happened at the Marquis pub as they entered the snug. Thomas had been sitting at his usual corner table, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, his face expressionless as they recounted the events. But the moment Isaiah mentioned that Valentina had been hurt—punched in the face—Thomas Shelby's entire demeanor changed.
His eyes turned cold and dangerous, the cigarette forgotten as he stood abruptly, chair scraping against the wooden floor. Without a word, he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, the fury in his eyes unmistakable. Arthur and John exchanged glances, "The Marquis, eh?" the older Shelby spoke, a dangerous smirk playing on his face as they stood up.
Thomas had other priorities. While the rest of his men stormed off to the pub to handle the fools who had dared lay a hand on Valentina, Tommy had one destination in mind: her.He strode through the dark streets, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. His mind replayed what Isaiah had said about the fight, the way Valentina had stood her ground, fighting back like she always did. But the thought of her getting hurt—of someone landing a punch on her—made his blood boil.
By the time he reached her door, his knuckles were white from clenching his fists. He didn't bother knocking, simply pushed the door open with more force than necessary. Valentina was sitting on the couch, a glass of whiskey in her hand, staring into the flames of the fire that crackled softly in the hearth. The bruises on her lip and jaw were already more pronounced, dark shadows on her otherwise flawless skin. She didn't seem startled by his abrupt entrance, as if she'd been expecting him.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of what had happened. "Mr. Shelby," she finally said, her voice soft but steady, as she set her glass down on the table in front of her. She could see the rage in his eyes, the way his chest heaved slightly as if he was barely holding it all together.
