𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙖 • 𝙟𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮 [complete]

••• intro •••

I walked into the musty club, immediately overwhelmed by a cloud of smoke as the scent of tobacco filled my nose. Once my senses got used to the atmosphere, I walked further in through the swarms of dancers and drinkers, keeping my eyes down.

I saw him standing at the bar drinking beer, his blonde hair and smart suit making him stick out like a thorn amongst rose petals. Approaching the bar myself, I took a seat two stools away from him and ordered a whiskey,
noticing his head turn slightly towards me.

"You must be something special."

His words caused some slight confusion, and I let it show on my face as I frowned at him. "Excuse me?"

Gesturing to the bartender, he explained. "A woman by herself getting service in a bar. You must have a powerful father."

I looked at him blankly, not replying.

"Or maybe just a gangster for a husband?"

"I'm not married," I replied coolly, fiddling with the gemstones on my fancy dress. I wasn't used to wearing dresses, let alone a dress this fancy, but I couldn't let my discomfort show. "And I'm not alone."

I could almost feel the confidence exude from him. "Well, who are you with?"

"You, for now."

He smirked and I saw the pride in his face as he stood. "In that case, would you like to dance?"

I didn't have the time nor patience to play cat and mouse. "Actually, I'd like to step outside for some air. You're free to join."

We reached a quiet back alley and he leaned against the wall, pulling out a fancy cigar and lighting it. He offered me one but I declined and instead stood opposite him with empty hands.

"You haven't told me your name yet," He said between puffs.

"Because you haven't told me yours."

"George Baltoni." He was quick to speak. "You may have heard of my family."

"Big time gangsters." I said, locking eyes with George. "Should I be afraid?"

He laughed, "I'd never hurt a woman."

"Shame," I placed my hand to the handwoven discreet pocket in my dress . "I was hoping you'd put up a fight."

George frowned at my words. "Oh? Say, you still haven't told me your name-"

In one quick manoeuvre, I pulled the dagger out of the pocket and held George against the wall, the blade on his neck.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He sputtered against my hand.

"My name is Alexandra," I said as realisation dawned on his pale face. "Alexandra Romero."

"You're that Peaky bitch."

"Correct. And you know what that means."

He tried to reach for his gun but I grabbed his hand and hammered it against the wall a few times until I heard his bones break. He let out a cry but his whimpering stopped as I pressed the blade harder against his Adam's apple.

"You murdered one of my friends." I glared at him as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. "And, for that, you must pay."

"Please- it wasn't me, I didn't shoot him-"

Not wanting to listen to him beg for his life any longer, I slit his neck and stepped back as he bled out, not wanting to ruin the dress. I grabbed the gun out of his breast pocket and held it up to his head, letting out the last words he would ever hear before I shot him dead.

"This is by order of the Peaky fucking Blinders."