𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞:

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"What would you like me to offer, Thomas?" Each syllable she spoke rang sharp, though not to the impassive figure across from her, but rather to herself. "Would you rather that I stay?"

Her hazel green eyes burned directly into Thomas Shelby's turquoise blue ones, and he observed how they had darkened by virtue of the fact that moisture was gathering in them.

He passively couldn't fathom her precisely then. He hasn't done so since he returned from the war. "Would you like to, Mar?"

His languid rejoinder swirled through the air, reaching her affecting heart. The way he spoke her moniker made her clamp her fists tightly, trying to gather herself.

"I regret that I do." That answer may have sprung from her heart, but she didn't know.

She is dubious. Her legs, on the other hand, felt eager to leave Small Heath.

Go. Move. Flee. Run. Run away from Thomas Shelby.

Thomas is aware of this.

He didn't actually know whether it caused him ache or joy that she would be able to leave him this time; However, he didn't get the opportunity to figure himself out.






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❝I love you, and for that, I vow my absence plagues you for the rest of your cursed days.❞ she says. The words ache a little in her throat.


He gave her a sad smile. ❝You have no inkling, yet that would be heaven for the entirety of my life.❞


𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝘆𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀.





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METHOD OF BEDLAM ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ²Where stories live. Discover now