𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 • 𝙟𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮

• 7 •

THE FIRST night James Arnett's opium was being sold through the Shelby Sapphire, I decided to overlook things. John decided to join me, which complicated things.

"I haven't seen you out of a dress in a long time," He commented as we stood at the top floor the balcony, overlooking the dance floor which was filled with excited patrons.

I shrugged, leaning my glass of whiskey on the railing. "Got bored of tripping over long skirts."

John chuckled, his arm slowly coiling around my waist as he pulled me closer into his chest. "Who said it had to be a long dress?"

The truth was, I was wearing a suit because I wasn't sure whether I'd end the night with a murder or not. And if there was one thing I hated more than tripping over long skirts, it was getting blood stains on them.

Lucas Ilson.

Police Detective Lucas Ilson, to be precise.

The first person on Phil Sullivan's kill list, and easily the most high-profile person I was tasked with assassinating so far in life. Since I was a teenager, Tommy had been moulding me into his soldier, and he had successfully brought me to a point where I could kill without blinking an eye.

But now, things were different.

I had Gerald. I had John. I had a home that I needed to protect.

Now, after assuming the role of doting wife and loving mother, the thought of resorting back to being a cold-blooded killer was unnerving, to say the least. Unnerving, but manageable.

Being tasked with committing five murders hadn't stolen much sleep from me, after all. In fact, it felt like I had been piling on dresses and lipstick and heels as a way to hide a part of me, but that part of me was being given a chance to come back to the light. It had been in the dark for so long, I didn't mind that it had a knack for being destructive to everything else in my life. I was doing this to protect my family, which helped me accept it.

And this time, it wasn't by order of the Peaky Blinders.

"Penny for your thoughts?" John asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

Looking over at him, I gave him a smile. "They cost a tenner."

"Fuck that; I always know what you're thinking of, anyway," He retorted, looking down at me. "You're thinking, 'How did I get so lucky to have bagged a husband with such a great co-?'"

"Don't finish that," I warned with an eye roll.

He placed a tender kiss to my cheek, the softness of his action taking me by surprise. "Seeing you in a suit makes me feel like we're kids again."

"Yeah?" I asked, smirking at him. "Running around Small Heath, stealing Arthur's coke, shooting anyone who dared to cross us?"

"Exactly," John said with a smile. "I'm fuckin' grateful that Gerald will never have a day like that."

"Never," I vowed with a nod. "His girlfriends will be shown love with roses and nights of dancing, instead of guns and fights."

"Those days were electric, though," John reminisced, his grip around me tightening. "They were exciting. Unpredictable. I never knew whether I'd the end the day in bed with you or in a hospital."

"Thankfully, it was mostly the former," I replied with a laugh. "You sound like you miss it."

"Of course I do," He admitted, which shocked me. "But these days are better. Unpredictable can get exhausting."