It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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THE RAIN WAS VERY CALMING yet the silence between them was dreadful, Thomas kept stealing quick glances at his right side—as if he was afraid the woman would disappear again into thin air. Mercy can feel his burning gazes, and it felt like she was a slice of meat being seared. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he cleared his throat, "We're taking out Billy Kimber and his men."
"Billy fucking Kimber? That horrible-looking man with slimy hair?" she snapped her head towards him, lines forming on her forehead. Thinking about Kimber was enough to send shivers through her body. Thomas nodded, "Are you fucking nuts?"
"The last time I checked, I'm still sane," he cocked his head to one side.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Who knows this?"
"Just you," he bluffed nonchalantly, few days ago, he told the same thing to the blonde barmaid. Thomas returned his attention on the road, making Mercy scoff in annoyance, " Why the fuck are you telling me this?"
Mercy somehow regretted accepting his offer to drop her off at the hotel. It all felt like Thomas was dragging her into another mess, and this time she won't get away with it.
"Because I want to."
Peaky Blinders will take out Kimber and his men—that sounds bloody lovely and marvelous, innit? The leader of Birmingham Boys has hundreds of men under his wing, and what of the former? Not even close to thirty. Not unless he made associations with another family.
Speaking of which, she remembered Ada telling her that John Shelby just got married to someone, a Lee at that. The same Lees that nearly killed the three of them back in Shelby's carport. The two families must've settled the dispute between them by arranging a marriage. Based on Ada's stories, John seemed to be pleased with his new wife.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Thomas," Mercy spoke in a calm manner, followed by the tensing of her jaws. From the side of her eyes, she saw how the corner of his mouth turned upwards as if he was amused by her warning.
"I play my games well, love," the last word he spat made her right eye twitch. She bit the inside of her cheek, inhaling sharply. Mercy diverted her gaze and dug out a cigar stick from her handbag, she crossed her legs as she brought it to her lips.
Another silence enveloped the car, she was almost thankful that Thomas didn't say another word. His poisonous mouth would be the cause of her insanity. The car came to a halt when a horse cart passed across the road, Thomas took the chance to speak.
"Where were you?" Thomas had been wanting to ask that question since the day she left Small Heath. Those words kept playing inside his head, causing another sleepless night. The crippling guilt and shame were on the corner of his room's ceiling and they were staring right at him. Eventually, it clung to his body like a demon—tearing him from limb to limb.
