e·lite
/əˈlēt,āˈlēt/
noun
noun: elite; plural noun: elites
a group or class of people seen as having the greatest power and influence within a society, especially because of their wealth or privilege.
• in which the darkness-loathing heiress meets t...
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It was a quiet morning; the blue-eyed devil noticed as he exhaled a long puff of smoke.
Today was the day. Luca Changretta will finally be over in every way, shape or form. Changretta's day of reckoning was about to begin in just a few hours. And Tommy was sure that the mafia was not ready for what he has in store. And how he was going to enjoy every bit of his plan.
"Today's the day, eh?" John was coughing and panting as he settled himself near his older brothers. Tommy was thankful for his brother's recovery, even though it's at a slow and steady pace. When John's hand was reaching for a cigarette, he swatted his hand away in caution.
A roll of the eye was inevitable for John.
The whiskey tasted sour as Tommy's mind suddenly drifted to a certain girl captured by Luca. Irene Grosvenor was not someone to forget, yet with his plans for revenge and whatnot, Thomas Shelby had only remembered Irene in fleeting moments. He was engrossed in his plan to avenge her. To make the people who dared to cut her suffer.
Like how he has been suffering these past few nights, unable to sleep as him closing his eyes seemed only to fill him with regret. His subconscious would concoct images of Lady Irene Grosvenor being tortured and tormented in every sickening way possible.
Very sickening that Tommy would wake from those brief naps feeling angry and tired, even though he had rested.
Thomas rubbed his brows, "Yep, today's the day."
Arthur was reclining on his chair, and judging by the rouge nesting neatly on his collar, it was clear he had spent the night with Lady Tabitha Cavendish. That shameless brother of his did not even take a second of his time to clean it. "Even got ourselves help from the fuckin' king."
"The fuckin' king, eh? Well, shit on me, I'm ready." Echoed John, chuckling.
Tommy nodded slowly, and with one last big gulp, he drained the contents of his glass before rising to his feet.
"Oi, where you goin'?"
"Getting myself ready." Indeed Thomas Shelby has to get ready for this momentous occasion. You can only kill someone like Luca Changretta once.
"What, like tarting yourself with rouge?" Laughed Arthur, with Johnny chiming in his laughter.
"Have to look good for our dear Luca, boys."
≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
"You will sign them all over to my family, or you're gonna die."
In this damp and darkroom where he brewed his gin, Thomas Shelby's laugh bubbled up in his chest. He almost blew his cover by just hearing the pure daftness coming out of Changretta's filthy mouth.
