The Red King and the Witch

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Arthur was running, his lungs were out of breath and his chest was on fire, but the girl in his arms had just fainted and he couldn't tell if she was breathing or not, so he ran.

He could hear the shouts of his men behind him but he wouldn't stop to listen, not when the girl in his arms was still covered in blood.

He could feel it seeping through her clothes, the sick warmth spreading in between his fingers causing a tremor of rage to vertebrate down his spine.

Arthur was trying to keep calm, he was trying to keep a clear head, but he couldn't.

He couldn't think straight like this, when his mind felt like it was coming out of a tunnel and all he could see was red.

He shouted as sharp pain in his lungs caused him to abruptly stop, huffing and gasping for air, his thoughts refusing to clear the violent image of the girl surrounded by blood and dead wops.

Arthur cursed the sky as he tried to catch his breath, commanding himself to stay present, to fucking move and not stand with a girl lying bloodied and limp in his arms.

"She's not dead is she, Arthur?"

Arthur looked back to the man who questioned him, recognizing Scudboat, as he moved closer to stand beside him.

The man had given the girl his coat to shield her from the freezing rain and was now standing soaked to the bone staring after her, chest rising and falling heavily as if he was out of breath, but Arthur knew better.

Scudboat was angry, every man that stood around him was angry, rage and fury burning bright behind each and everyone of their eyes.

The Peaky Blinders wanted blood and they wanted it right now.

Arthur looked at the girl, felt soft movement beneath his fingertips from where he cradled her ribs, he could still see blood pouring from her nose and her brow.

He tipped his forehead forward, resting on top of hers, closing his eyes and shoving the dark thoughts away, forcing himself to take another deep breath.

The girl was still breathing, which meant she was still alive, and to Arthur that's what mattered most, that the girl lived, because he didn't know what his little brothers would do if she didn't.

"Boss?" another voice spoke up and he opened his eyes to Lovelock, the man said nothing else but he didn't need to.

Lovelock was hungry for violence, large fists clenched tightly, silently waiting for Arthur to issue an order, which forced him into action.

"Harry, Jimmy, you two go back, take the dead Wop's to Charlie's Yard, leave the bodies with Curly and string that last bastard up. Me brother's will want to have a nice chat later," Arthur grunted, adjusting his grip on the girl before addressing the rest of the men.

"Jeremiah, you're with me. Scudboat, Lovelock, you as well. The rest of you fuckers spread out! I want this entire fucking city searched and wake the rest of our fucking men! Sabini and his wop's are here. You find them, you cut the bastards, but you leave them alive and you bring them to me." Arthur ordered, heat searing through his chest as he tried to keep his murderous thoughts at bay.

"You boy's fucking heard 'em, FOOKING MOVE NOW!" Lovelock shouted, shoving the nearest man into action, while Arthur turned away resuming his run towards Watery Lane, giving out his last orders to the men following him.

"Jeremiah, the girl will need your help, hardly fucking breathin' as is," Arthur shuddered as the girl started to slip in his arms and he jerked her back up, adjusting his grip before she fell to the floor.