Kimber's Daughter - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 71

Tommy's POV

At first, the warehouse was a black dot on the darkening horizon. By the time it took shape, it had become a glow of amber .

"Tom..." Arthur warned, his voice shaking.

Tommy clutched the steering wheel harder, until his knuckles turned white and callouses formed across his palm. His foot had the accelerator on the floor, and he did not give an inch.

By the time they reached the warehouse, the whole building was set aflame.

Tommy didn't bother liaising with the other men, didn't even brake the car before he shot out. The heat of the fire seared across his skin. He shrugged out of his coat and threw his hat to the ground as he ran towards what must be the doorway, now burnt to ashes.

"Tommy!" Men bellowed behind him, but he did not stop, did not care.

That is, until John sprinted up to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him round.

"Get out of my way," Tommy threatened, voice raised.

"Listen to me," John panted. "We don't even know she's in there. It could be a trap."

Tommy pushed his brother away. "I don't care."

"What would she want you to do, eh?" John asked. "She's smarter than this, Tom, and so are you."

But Tommy was past being reasoned with. "I know she's here, John! I can feel her, alright? I can fucking feel her."

He wrenched himself free of John's grip, and dove headfirst into the flame, disappearing.

John bounced on the balls of his feet for all of a second before following suit. "For fuck's sake," he growled.

It was chaos. Even with the floors made of stone, providing a path through the fire eating every wall, Tommy couldn't see, couldn't breathe. But he'd been in this position before. He'd been in the tunnels. And if he survived that, he could get through this.

He drove ahead, sprinting, clutching his shirt to his face, knowing this could well kill him. In a sobering moment, he realised the gravity of John's words. If Tommy died here, in a burning decoy that was just a trap of Sabini's, his wife would never see him again. He wouldn't be able to save her, and their child.

But fuck, he knew she was here. He could just feel her. It was similar to the feeling he got when picking a horse. Unexplainable, but so powerful it was beyond explanation. That same instinct that kicked in wherever she was concerned, had kicked in as soon as he saw the warehouse aflame. It wasn't anything he could control. It was instinctive. Simpler and more logical than breathing.

It pushed him onward.

"Tom!" John bellowed through the smoke, but Tommy had already seen her.

No more than a silhouette, slumped against a chair.

The hem of his trousers caught fire as he charged across a line of flames. He stamped it out angrily with his hands, not caring about the blisters that sprang across them.

And at last he reached her. He'd fucking reached her. Barely visible as she was in the fire, he knew it was his wife.

He lifted her free from the chair, her body so limp and lifeless, for a moment he feared the worst.

But then she whimpered. Tommy shuddered in relief, coughing smoke from his lungs, as she stirred in his arms.

"John, your shirt," he stammered.

John ripped his shirt free and threw it to Tommy, who pressed it to cover Kimber's mouth as they fought their way out. Tommy knew they were on borrowed time. The flames were still fresh, so Kimber hadn't been in here long enough for certain death. But each second that passed brought them all closer, from suffocation or burning, it didn't matter which.

He shielded her with his own body as they reached the gap that had been a doorway, the wall of fire that separated them from outside. Tommy swallowed. It had spread and thickened. There was no way they'd make it through without being set alight.

"We'll shield her," he shouted to John. "As soon as we're through, we drop and roll."

John pressed his body the other side of Kimber. Together, they formed a barrier around her in Tommy's arms.

"Go," Tommy shouted.

They sprinted forward, slightly awkwardly as they pressed together. Tommy wrapped himself fiercely around his wife. The fire rejoiced in such fresh sustenance — clothes, shoes, hair, skin. John screamed as he caught alight. Tommy knew every cell of his own body was screaming as though branded with a hot iron, but adrenaline dulled the pain better than any morphine could. If he burned, he burned. And he would burn all night if it kept Kimber safe.

They dropped to the ground. Arthur, bless his god fucking soul, Tommy thought, threw a heaving bucket of water across them all. John groaned from where he lay, his hair burnt away and face reduced to raw, red skin. But he was alive. Tommy pushed himself to his knees, crawling across to where his wife lay.

She gasped, half conscious, wiping water from her eyes. The first thing Tommy saw were her wrists — burnt red welts formed rings around them, where he supposed her rope restraints had caught fire and burned. A few inches of her hair had singed off, and the thin white gown she wore was barely a few strips of fabric.

But she was whole. And she was breathing.

"Arthur," Tommy rasped, panting for air. "Would you get my wife a fucking coat, please."