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Birmingham was a city that breathed smoke. The black tendrils of soot curled into the sky, rising from factories and foundries like whispers from a thousand unspoken secrets. It was a city built by iron, sweat, and blood—where power was carved out of the stone streets by men who wore their scars as armor. But in the alleys, behind shuttered doors and velvet curtains, power was something softer, more elusive. It was a woman's smile, a soft hand on a shoulder, a glass of whiskey slipped to the right lips. Power was what you couldn't see coming.

And it was in these shadows, where men built empires and kingdoms of vice, that The Golden Lotus stood.

Thomas Shelby had heard whispers of the place. A brothel, the finest in Birmingham, they said. But there was something else, a current beneath the surface, carried by the tongues of drunkards and men who liked to boast after a few too many. It wasn't just the women. It wasn't just the liquor. It was something far more dangerous—a new kind of power slipping into his city. 

Something he didn't control.

And Thomas Shelby controlled almost everything in Birmingham.

The streets had been quieter these days, but they still crackled with tension, danger always lurking beneath the surface. Thomas's men ran the races, the pubs, the betting houses—Peaky Blinders was carved into every corner of Birmingham. But The Golden Lotus? It was different. It didn't pay its dues. Worse, it was attracting attention.

He kept hearing the same name, whispered like a ghost around the city: Eva Zhao. The woman behind the curtain. Silk and shadows. An outsider, with no allegiance and too much mystery.

"She don't belong 'ere," Arthur had growled when Thomas first asked about her. His accent thickened with irritation, every word carrying the weight of his distrust. "But she's sharp. Runs a tight ship. Too bloody clean for me taste." Arthur's eyes had flickered with suspicion, the kind they held for every new face trying to play on their turf.

But Thomas wasn't the type to judge a player without seeing their moves first. He wanted to look into her eyes and see what she was really made of.

The Golden Lotus was tucked into a corner of Birmingham that hadn't yet learned to fear the Peaky Blinders. The facade was unassuming—two floors of aged brick, with small windows that did nothing to betray the secrets within. A lantern flickered above the door, casting a dim glow onto the street. Men came and went quietly, heads bowed as if afraid to meet the eyes of anyone who might recognize them.

Thomas stepped through the door with the casual arrogance of a man who knew no one would stop him. The interior of the brothel was a world apart from the grime of the streets outside. Silk draped the walls, the low hum of conversation mingling with the scent of perfume and opium smoke that curled in lazy tendrils through the air. It was a place designed to make men forget where they were—and who they owed their loyalties to.

A woman, dressed in shimmering gold with dark hair pinned high, approached him. Her smile was practiced, and polite, but her eyes gave away nothing. "Mr. Shelby," she said in a soft voice, "we've been expecting you."

Expecting him? That was unusual. Thomas's eyes narrowed, scanning the room. It was well-run, no doubt about that. The men were relaxed, lost in their vices, and the women moved with precision as if trained not just to entertain, but to observe. There was more going on here than a simple brothel.

"I'm not here to be entertained," Thomas said, his voice low, but commanding.

"Of course not," the woman replied smoothly. "Madame Zhao will see you upstairs."

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Oct 14 ⏰

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