i found you .. and you found me // Thomas Shelby

15- quit

"And you say that I'm the devil and you know what I don't disagree no I don't see the harm... they say, "you crazy just leave him he'll suffocate you", but I wanna be in your arms... they say no don't pick up the phone let him think there nobody home but I'm under your spell... cause when you call my heart starts to roll I always want more, it's my heaven my hell." -Ariana Grande-Butera

She sat there in silence.

Dead, dead silence.

The clock ticked in the background, the time reading 08:32 am. She'd been sat in the same room as Vicente, his lifeless dead body, for over three hours.

The blood was beginning to dry into the floorboards, the bullet wound that was centered perfectly in the middle of his forehead no longer dripping with blood.

She'd killed many people before, many people like Vicente. This time, something shifted in her. Not guilt, or remorse.

Fear.

If she was completely honest with herself, she was fucking terrified.

Wiping her eyes that dripped with tears with her shaky hands, she pulled herself up and shakily walked towards the phone, her bare feet stepping through the pool of Vicente's blood.

Dialing the familiar number, she awaited the answer.

"Papa," she breathed, her head in her hands. "È morto." (He's dead.)

Without a response, her father hung up the phone and left Giorgia awaiting his arrival. She contemplated ringing Tommy, her fingers tracing the numbers but something stopped her.

She'd killed the man he wanted to kill.

She'd done what he specifically told her to stay away from.

But she wasn't scared of what Tommy could say, she was scared of what it could turn out between those two. She had hope for the both of them and she couldn't deny that she enjoyed the sweet dreams she was having of the two of them and Charlie, having little babies of their own. Their dark hair and piercing blue eyes. The most beautiful of babies.

The thought brought her to tears and before she knew it, she was holding her head in her hands crying her eyes out.

"Ehi, principessa," her father called as he burst through the front door, immediately faced with Vicente's dead body and a daughter crying hysterically. "Stai bene, calmati," (You're alright, calm down.) Her father shushed her, engulfing her in his arms as she cried.

She caught her breath, her father wiping away her tears. "Non voglio più farlo, papa." (I don't want to do this anymore, dad.)

"Devi essere onesto con lui, piccola," (You need to be honest with him, baby.) he soothed, referring back to Tommy. He felt her shakes worsen as she shook her head against his shoulder.

"I can't."

"Yes, Giorgia. You can," he replied more sternly, holding her face in his hands. "Lord knows I'll be dammed giving you away to a gangster...," he sighed, "but he's good for you, Giorgia."

"This is who I am, dad. He won't love this."

"You love the man he is, don't you?"

She nodded slightly in response.

"They were going to kill him," she sniffed, her breath shallow. "I can't go through it again."

Alphonse looked at the floor. He never approved of James, for many reasons, but the pain it brought his daughter when he died was something he wished he had never had to witness.