Criminal Breath | Peaky Blinders x Red Dead Redemption

Chapter 23

They turned a corner, and suddenly, there he was: Archie, sprawled on the floor of a dimly lit corridor, a crimson pool spreading from his lifeless body. Dutch froze, his eyes wide with shock and horror. Micah stepped forward, his gun at the ready, but it was too late. The room was empty, the only sound the distant crackling of the city's flames.

Tommy's voice was low and cold as he stepped closer to the body. "Looks like the Italians didn't want to negotiate," he said, his eyes on Dutch.

Micah's hand trembled as he reached into Archie's pocket, his thoughts racing. If he found money, he could claim a small victory for himself. But instead, his fingers closed around a small, crumpled card. He pulled it out and squinted in the dim light. It was a government ID card, the words 'Federal Agent' stamped in bold letters. The room seemed to spin around him, the truth a heavy weight in his hand.

Dutch's eyes snapped to Micah, his voice a low growl. "What do you have there?" Micah held up the ID, the silence in the corridor suddenly deafening. "It seems our dear Archie had a second job," he said, his voice thick with disgust. "He was playing us all along."

The revelation hit Dutch like a sledgehammer, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. "A spy?" he whispered, his hand tightening around his gun. "All this time, he was working for the law?"

Micah nodded, his expression grim. "Looks that way," he said, his voice thick with the betrayal he felt. "I knew he was no good."

Dutch stared at the ID card, his mind racing with implications. "This changes everything," he murmured. "We can't trust anyone. Maybe this all is just a trap set by the law. We need to get out of this mansion, right now."

Tommy's eyes never left Dutch's face, his jaw clenched. "Or maybe it's your man Micah playing us," he countered. "This could be a ploy to get us to leave the gold so he can have everything for himself."

Dutch's head snapped up, his eyes flashing with anger. "You dare accuse one of my own?"

"I dare anything to keep what's rightfully ours," Tommy retorted, his voice like gravel. "We're all in this game of survival now, and no one's hands are clean."

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with accusation and suspicion. Dutch's hand hovered over his holster, the tension palpable. The alliance they had formed was as fragile as the glassware shattering in the distance, a testament to the chaos they had brought to this city.

"We need to find the gold," Dutch said through gritted teeth, his eyes not leaving Tommy's. "And then we'll deal with whoever's playing us."

Tommy's expression was cold, his eyes unwavering. "Fine," he said, his voice tight. "But we do this together."

They continued their search, the tension between them palpable. But as they moved through the mansion, something began to feel off. The air was too still, the silence too complete. It was as if the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment to exhale and reveal the truth.

The revelation came as a dagger in the dark, a whisper in the shadows. They stumbled upon a hidden room, the walls lined with maps and documents, the air thick with the scent of treachery. There, they found a letter written by the King's wife, detailing the gold heist and her role in orchestrating it all. She had played them from the very beginning, using the chaos to their advantage.

Her words were etched in ink, cold and calculated. She had promised them protection, had played the damsel in distress, but all along, she had been the spider at the center of the web, spinning her lies with a smile on her lips. The letter spoke of her plan to overthrow the Shelby family, to use the gold to fund a war against them, and to claim the power that was rightfully hers.

Dutch's hand trembled with rage as he read the confession, the room around him a blur. The laughter they had heard, the taunts that had led them on a wild goose chase through the mansion, it all made sense now. The King's wife had played them all, turning their alliance into a deadly game of cat and mouse.

"The gold was never here," Tommy murmured, his eyes on the letter. "It was a ploy to keep us occupied, to keep us from seeing what was happening right under our noses."

Dutch's eyes snapped to Tommy's, his mind racing. "We've been played," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Italians had us from the start. The police, the gold, it was all a setup. We need to burn this mansion to the damn ground."

Tommy nodded, his eyes cold and deadly. "But after that, we leave no stone unturned," he said, his voice like a knife's edge. "We find that gold, and we expose her treachery. She won't get away with this."

They exited the mansion, their footsteps heavy with rage and regret. The night air was cool against their hot skin, the distant sounds of the city's chaos a stark reminder of the hell they had brought upon themselves. Dutch's gang lit torches, their eyes hard and determined. The mansion, once a symbol of their greed and desire, now became a beacon of their fury.

The flames licked at the mansion's wooden façade, hungrily devouring the opulence that had been so cruelly dangled before them. The fire grew, a living, breathing monster that reflected the rage in their hearts. The heat washed over them, a fiery embrace that seemed to cleanse their souls of the taint of the betrayal they had just uncovered.

They watched in silent fury as the mansion crumbled into ash and embers, each flame a symbol of the trust that had been shattered and the lives that had been lost in pursuit of a lie. The gold was gone, the Italians had played them like pawns in their twisted game of power and greed. But the fire was not just about destruction, it was a declaration of war, a signal to the world that they would not be manipulated, that they would not be made fools of.

"We pay the King's family a visit right now," Dutch said, his voice low and deadly. "We show them what happens when you cross Dutch Van der Linde."

Tommy's eyes met Dutch's, and he nodded once, the decision made. The two gangs mounted their horses and set off into the night, the flaming mansion a beacon of their anger and determination. The streets of Liverpool were a chaotic symphony of fire and gunshots, a reflection of their own tumultuous alliance. They rode hard, the wind stinging their faces, the city's destruction a grim reminder of the price of power and greed.