Bloodsport ; tommy shelby

𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 - checkmate

Days had passed, and Iris had taken more time off work. She knew it was suspicious, but it was getting harder and harder to avoid Polly's stares and Tommy's questions. Iris had been backed into a corner by Ivan and any way out involved total combustion of the life she'd built.

Ivan sat behind her at her kitchen table as she washed dishes, contemplating what possible scenario she could survive this situation. As washed a knife under the hot water, Iris fantasized about swivelling around and sticking it through his cold heart. She wondered if she'd even be capable of killing him even after all this time. Though any love she thought she'd felt for him once she knew now was delusion, she wasn't sure if she could do it.

Besides, even if she did, Ivan had people that would find her. There was no way she could outrun him this time.

"You are being sloppy," he said.

"With my washing up?" She asked dryly.

"With what I asked you to do," Ivan said.

Iris sighed. "I don't know how you expect me to do this," she said. A part of her wished he would just kill her so this could be over.

"You should find this easy, Yekaterina," he said coldly. "You have crushed my heart, now his."

"Don't call me that," Iris spat, dropping the dishes back into the soapy water. She spun around with angry eyes, ready to explode at him, but there was a knock at the door.

She stared at Ivan for a long moment. There was another knock.

"Open it," Ivan commanded.

Iris stayed still.

"Open it or I will," he threatened, standing up. She stood in his way, and backed up towards the door, peering through the spyhole.

It was Tommy. Of course it was. Only he knew where she lived.

She opened the door slowly so he could only see her. His face was very still and calculating. He must've heard Ivan from outside.

"Why haven't you been at work?" He asked.

"I think I'm coming down with something," Iris lied.

"Right," he said.

"This isn't really a good time," she said, meeting his eyes for a moment.

He said nothing, obviously not fooled by her attempts to get him to leave.

"A...er... an old friend of my brothers is over from Balsall Heath," she said.

"Balsall Heath?" He asked. Iris froze, remembering she'd told him she was from Aston.

"He moved from Aston," Iris said.

"Iris—" Tommy began.

"I'm really busy, Thomas," she said, with an almost pleading look in her wide blue eyes.

"Right." He said. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye." She said, fighting back tears as she shut the door. She let herself sob as she leaned back against the door, hearing Tommy's footsteps going down the stairs.

She looked over at Ivan, who was expressionless as he watched her in pain. He turned away, leisurely sipping at a glass of water. Suddenly, her sobs ceased. She had lost so much because of him, and she was still letting him control her life.

"Does it hurt you that I love him?" She asked calmly, walking slowly back towards him. Behind her, there was a frying pan that she'd just washed by the sink. She reached a hand out slowly and gripped its handle.

"Do not test me, Yekaterina," he warned. "I don't want to lose my temper again."

"I think you're forgetting my temper, Ivan," she said, looking him dead in the eyes.

In a split second, she swung the frying pan into the air and smacked him hard on the side of the head. Her heart beating a mile a minute, as she watched as his body fell limply to the floor. He was alive, but he'd be out cold, and she'd be long gone by the time he awoke.

"Fuck you," she spat, delivering a small kick to his ribs.

Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Iris grabbed her coat, swiftly exiting her flat and locking the door behind her.