EIGHT.

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( book i, CHAPTER EIGHT )

          IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING WHEN IT happened

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IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING WHEN IT happened. Eliza had gone to work earlier to make up for her early departure the night before and had left Ronan at the inn.

The day before, Ronan had spent the afternoon helping Agatha around with cooking and cleaning, and by later she would just allow him to run around the streets with the other boys his age.

But today was different.

He decided to run around town early in the morning, not long after Eliza left, and see the wonders Small Heath to offer. They had been there a full day already and he had not done any exploring- this trip was a necessity.

And so he was off. He poked around the small crevices of town, tip-toed past the sleeping dogs, and by the time his trip was done he found Small Heath a very uninteresting place to reside. Of course, he enjoyed Monaghan Boy and the dock, but other than that, everything else was boring or restricted to himself.

As he was about to head home, the young Buchanan boy heard the soft muttering of voices not too far from him. He immediately recognized one as Tommy and was ready to bound to him and ask for another ride on Monaghan Boy, but he held still.

By the dead silence of the early morning, and the low voices of Tommy and his companion, Ronan knew something was wrong. He swiftly hid himself behind one of the many crates near the dock as he watched the scene play out.

God, he thought, Would Lizzie kill me if she knew where I was.

She always did tell him to stay out of the business of others- "it never ends well," she would say.

Maybe he should have listened.

Ronan curiously watched through a jagged hole in the crate with his light eyes. He watched as Tommy and the man walked towards the edge of the dock and watched as the pair shook hands. He noticed tears streaming down the man's cheeks and suddenly Tommy had a gun pointed to the man's head.

Ronan wanted to scream for Tommy to stop- to make him put the gun down and leave the man alone, but it seemed as if his voice was lost in his throat. Maybe it was for the better. Maybe, he should have listened.

Yet, as Tommy pulled the trigger, Ronan couldn't seem to look away, his childlike wonder getting the best of him. He watched as the man's body fell limp into an upcoming boat- it's steerer not even batting an eyelash. He watched as Tommy walked away with blood on his cheeks. He watched as two men, that he hadn't noticed until then, nodded at each other and also left.

Ronan couldn't help but wonder if that's how quick it happened to his brother. One moment to the next and then gone. Did he suffer? Did he feel it?

Little Ronan peered through that hole in the crate long after Thomas Shelby and the Italians left. He continued watching until the dead man's body was rowed to a point in which he could no longer see.

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