DECEMBER HAD COME AROUND FASTER THAN EVERYONE EXPECTED, BRINGING WITH IT THE COLD BREEZE AND ICY ROADS. Grey and white clouds were mixing in the heavy firmament, weighing on people's shoulders with the fear of snow coming down on the pavement and compromising the cars traffic. Men were shouting at one another from every corner of the streets, their wives waving beside them, engulfed in their long fur coats.

Turmoil had taken over one of Digbeth's houses, people going back and forth through the kitchen. Glasses were passed around the dozen of Italians lieutenants as they gathered around their undisputed leader standing in front of the table, flanked by both her brother and her best friend.

The men gathered around the table, holding their glasses firmly in their hands as they expectedly stared at the redheaded woman with her arms crossed over her chest, her teeth nervously digging in her bottom lips nervously.

"Grazie per essere venuti," Delilah said with an appreciative nod. "I know you're all busy. Thank you for agreeing to join your men to the revolution as well."

The men raised their glasses towards one another, ending in Delilah's direction. She shook her head and took a step towards the table, Milo leaning his palms against the wooden surface. As always, a slick strand of straight dark hair fell on his forehead in the process, his dark eyes scanning the lieutenants' faces carefully.

"As you all know, today we're taking Kimber down," she carried on, her voice firm. "You're probably already aware of Kimber's connections with the Changretta family, and I heard your worries. I took into account your wariness and reluctance. But however strong these feelings may be, they didn't change my mind."

"We'll be controlling the pieces of information leaving the races," Milo added. "Pass the word around that the De Luca family is offering its support to the Peaky Blinders."

"Don't be afraid of the Changretta family," Delilah then pleaded, joining her hands in front of her. "We're not alone in this war, the Peaky Blinders and the Lee family have our backs just like we have theirs."

The men looked at one another with furrowed eyebrows, one of them letting go of his glass and stepping forward. Delilah straightened her posture, crossing her arms behind her back. His black suit was highlighting his blue eyes and his dirty-blonde hair was pushed back perfectly, not even a whorl erecting from his scalp.

"Credete in questo?" he demanded, using their native language as a promise.

"To be fair, I had doubts," Delilah admitted. "But I believe in this, I want this. No one can stop us now. We're united, and if we stand together, we'll never be divided. We're strong, stronger than what we thought."

Milo then stood up, sliding his hands in his pockets, before he cleared his throat, implicitly asking for permission to talk.

"If you're scared for yourselves or your men, regarding the Changretta family, it's still time to back up," he stated with a nod towards the blond Italian.

"Everyone's free to go if they want to before the end of this meeting," she said with another nod, her red hair falling in front of her eyes. "As for myself, I'm the one who will take accountability if any of you found themselves put at risk. It's my job to make sure you're protected and to fight back if it comes to it."

"Quindi non hai paura di morire?" he asked and Angelo huffed, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Morire per la causa non mi spaventa," Delilah affirmed with confidence, making the Italian man nod. "But no one's gonna die today. No one."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Thanks to Milo, who had gathered twelve leaders, the Italian trio waved at two hundred men leaving Birmingham for the races, plus the twenty men who had travelled from London for stronger protection. Milo sighed as Delilah locked her arms with her brother's and they moved to the Garrison, where they were expected before leaving.

When they stepped into the pub, it was already crowded. It seemed like Thomas had been waiting for them as he raised his hand in the air, somehow catching his boys' attention.

"You have a pint and a chaser, no more," he announced. "On the house."

He then moved behind the counter, stopping beside Grace. Delilah turned towards her friends and smiled widely, spotting Arthur struggling to serve everyone.

"Hai sentito il capo," she stated as she walked to the counter, easily sliding behind Thomas and the blonde barmaid as she joined Arthur's side.

Grace stared at Delilah as the woman spun on her heels to grab two pint beer glasses to serve her brother and Milo. They smiled at her as she placed the glasses in front of them.

"Aren't you supposed to on the other side of the counter?" Grace asked as the redhead flashed a smile in her direction.

"A leader's got to be sober for a revolution!"

Arthur pushed her to the side as he moved further up the bar, taking a few glasses so they wouldn't have to go back and forth through the bar for a glass. Delilah nodded appreciatively at his action as her eyes drifted towards Angelo and Milo speaking together, oblivious of her stare.

"I didn't know you could serve!" Arthur beamed as he nudged her side, sensing her anxiety.

"You learn new things every day," Delilah responded as she served someone else, careful of the beer foam on the top of the glass, skillfully pushing it away with the pad of her index finger. "There's a few things you don't know about me yet."

They served a few other men with laughter escaping their mouths when Delilah spilt a pint all over the floor. Even Grace couldn't repress a smile on her lips, though she felt like she had no right to interact with the redhead anymore. Even when Thomas spoke the words she had been waiting for since the very beginning, Grace couldn't erase the guilt overwhelming her corrupted soul.

The door swung open once more, and a man Delilah had never seen around before stepped in, a tiny man shyly hiding behind him. Arthur frowned as he placed another pint in front of a man, placing one of his hands on his hip.

"Who's that?" Delilah asked quietly.

"Jeremiah Jesus," he responded. "Local preacher."

The black man's eyes searched through the crowd until they landed on Thomas's face. He immediately turned towards the man beside him, pointing at Thomas. The unknown's eyes fell on Thomas as well and he nervously backed down behind Jeremiah, hoping to disappear if they couldn't see him fully.

Jeremiah took none of it as he pushed him in front of him, once again gesturing towards Thomas.

"Right," Jeremiah spoke up, catching the Peaky Blinder's attention. "Tell him what you just told me."

Delilah frowned as she tiptoed to have a better look at the man. She rested her hand on Arthur's shoulder, hoping to gain a few centimetres.

"Just heard there's two vans driving up the Stratford Road. An old corporal of mine said he recognized some of the men. He said it's Kimber boys. And they're heading this way."

Her face fell as silence filled the room. Terror was what she was feeling, pure fucking terror. She dropped her hand from Arthur's shoulder as her eyes stayed focused on the only one who could sort this out without the situation ending in a bloodbath.

Her eyes met Thomas's, his cerulean orbs reflecting the fear she was herself feeling deep in her chest. The ball of fear growing in her chest exploded when Thomas suddenly ran away from the pub. Delilah took off and ran behind him, unable to catch up. She stopped when she stepped into Polly's house, witnessing Ada cradling her baby in her arms as Thomas kicked a closet hard.

"Someone let slip," Thomas roared. "Kimber's men are on their way."

Ada's eyes couldn't help but land on Delilah's shocked face, who actually realized that everything was accusing her. She was the only one who knew except for Thomas, and now everyone was glaring at her profusely, Polly being the more violent as she took a step towards the redhead, her finger threateningly pointing at her chest.

"It's not me!" she exclaimed. "Alright? I knew, but it's not me! What benefit would I get from this?"

Polly nodded as Thomas paced around the room, reminding her of that night in the Garrison when they were waiting for the IRA to come and deal with him. He still looked like a lion, his eyes going back and forth as she noticed the mad mix of fear and anger glowing in his troubled orbs.

"All the Lees and the Italians are on the way to Worcester," Thoms stated, running his hand through his hair. "We're outnumbered. Fuck!"

Delilah had a very bad feeling. Something was wrong.

They couldn't be just two to know about Black Star Day. Either they told it accidentally or someone else knew.

Which could only mean one thing.

"Who else knew about Black Star Day?" Delilah found herself asking, Polly worriedly glancing at her.

Her tone was stone-cold.

"If it's not me, and it's not you, that can only mean someone else knows. Who knows, Thomas?"

Thomas stopped his pacing, leaning his palms against the armoire, sighing heavily. That was it. He had been caught, and there was no way Delilah would take the lie lightly.

"Grace," he answered quietly.

And just like that, Delilah felt like she was falling from a cliff. For the first time, she had trusted her instinct over her parents', put her family on the line, sent her men to a place where they would never find her. Brought Angelo and Milo in this business.

And she had been lied to.

Betrayal arised in her chest as Polly glanced at them both, deciding to go deal with Grace herself. Delilah didn't say anything as the brunette left, her eyes focused on the couch. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't, or she'd kill him. She knew she was more than capable of killing him right then and there, and she would do if the opportunity showed up.

For the first time since Delilah had started working for her mother, she had only listened to her heart, she had put faith in someone she didn't even know. It had been enough to expose herself to a betrayal. She had believed in him. And now, she was paying the price for that as well as her men.

And it all made sense.

Every time Grace had desperately craved Thomas's attention, every time she had leaned closer to the window when he was inside, every time Grace had tried to grow closer to him. Why she had accepted his fucking job offer. That fucking bitch had planned it since the beginning.

"I'm gonna kill her," she whispered. "And when I'm done with her, I'll deal with you."

Thomas turned towards her, his mind processing the hurt and betrayal darkening her pupils. For the first time, he was witnessing Delilah De Luca's infamous tantrum, and he was deserving it.

"You know, I keep wondering why smart people like you can foolishly believe that love's the fucking answer," she said with a mischievous grin, her hands shaking with rage. "Fucking bullshit. Now we're all paying for your fucking faith in blonde barmaid. Thanks, Thomas. Really."

"Delilah —"

"Don't fucking come near me!" she shouted, backing down as he outstretched his hand towards her. "Now that I'm thinking about it, my father was bloody right. You people, fucking opening your mouth so damn wide for a pretty woman. Don't you even think at all, Thomas? Did you think it'll go well? Why did you fucking lie?"

At the end of her sentence, she was screaming so loud her voice broke at the end of her speech. He couldn't bring himself to explain why. Why would he lie to her? she had always told the truth, she had stayed true to herself, and he had been the one who had thrown his wariness through the window for Grace's pretty eyes. 

Delilah shook her head before she walked to the front door, Thomas fastly grabbing her wrist before she could go out.

"You should go," he said softly.

"Shut the fuck up," she responded, her tone as soft as his own as she escaped his grip. "If you were concerned about me, or any of us for that matter, you would've shut your mouth."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

It seemed colder outside. The sour taste of betrayal lingered on her tongue as she listened to the silence foregoing Thomas's speech. He was standing up on a factory slipway he had climbed on a few seconds prior, overlooking the remaining of his soldiers. His eyes stayed on Delilah's expressionless face for a second before he cleared his throat.

"All right, men, London lady," Thomas spoke as he looked at all of them. "You were mostly in the war, so you know that battle plans always change and get fucked up. Well, here it is! Things have changed. We fight them here, today. Alone."

Delilah pursed her lips. Thomas's firm tone motivated even the coldest ones — she was obviously referring to herself in that thought. Maybe fighting wasn't that bad, even though they wouldn't have the upper hand this time. People could even die. But perhaps it would be worth it.

"But it's us, boys and lady, it's us!" he exclaimed, his commitment taking over Delilah's anger for a second. "The Small Heath rifles. Never lost a fight yet, did we? Jeremiah, I know you vowed to God to never pick up a weapon again. But can you ask him from me if you can help us today?"

Jeremiah's fell on Delilah with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't believe," Delilah stated with a shrug before she cleared her throat. "I don't believe in God, but I fucking believe in us. 'Cause we're fucking strong together. Right? Strength doesn't only reside in fucking numbers, boys, but in unity. United, they can fucking do a thing about us."

Arthur shouted as she turned towards Jeremiah, her eyes softening when they met the preacher's dark gaze.

"Now, I don't know about God, Jeremiah," she said with a smirk parting her lips. "But as for me, I'm fucking ready to crush their fucking skulls under my fucking boots!"

John wrapped his arm around her shoulders as a whistle left his mouth, Angelo high-fiving Milo to celebrate his sister's speech. Delilah crossed her arms over chest as Arthur ruffled her hair, staring right into Tommy's eyes.

"We're all ears, boss."

They listened as Thomas explained their battle plan, finishing on the demand for his comrades to take a moment to make their peace. Delilah launched herself forward when he disappeared through the crowd, muttering a slight apology as she ran into an older man. She tugged at his wrist when she caught up with him, forcing him to look at her in the eyes. She wanted to confront him, and she believed the time for explanations would come.

But not now.

"Don't even think I'm forgiving or forgetting what happened," she started. "I want my explanations. But not now. I want you to know that despite your fucking dumb move and too damn big mouth, I signed up for this. I swore I would stay, whatever was to happen. Now, we're probably at the worst of it all. And I want you to know, I'm staying true to my word."

Thomas wrapped his arms around her and Delilah widened her eyes, finding herself hugging him for the second time in her life. She couldn't believe she was getting over the lie so easily: she had changed. She had softened, and she couldn't decide whether it was a good or a bad thing.

Tommy held her closer than he ever dared to. If he was to die today, he wouldn't forgive himself for not showing something. Something that was well-hidden in his heart, something he wasn't aware of the nature of, but something that pushed him to do it. He wouldn't lay dead on the pavement without an image of her, and he wanted to remember that moment. He wanted to remember her peach scent, the redness of her hair when he opened his eyes and the colour invaded his field of view.

Delilah inhaled one last time his scent — leather mixed with tobacco.

"Now go and ease your mind, Tommy," she whispered before she broke their embrace.

She walked towards her war-buddies, who had been waiting for her. Before she could turn to her brother, a bald man shyly holding his cap between his hands approached her, timidly clearing his throat to strike her attention.

"You're Delilah, right?" he asked, his Brummie accent toughing his soft voice.

"Yeah," the redhead responded with a kind smile. "You must be Danny, right? It's nice to meet you properly. I'm sorry we didn't have the opportunity before."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Their steps echoed through the empty lane. Delilah could hear them, approaching by dozens, their threat more than evident. However, the redhead didn't break under the anxiety, raising her head higher as she walked by John's side, Milo on her left. Her gun was securely wrapped in both her hands as her hair floated around her face like a fiery halo. She was about to burn Kimber's empire in fucking flames, at all costs.

They stopped a good distance away. Kimber's group was twice the Blinders' size, but they weren't scared. Except maybe for Arthur, who nervously whispered towards his younger brother for instructions.

"All guns and no balls, right, Billy boy?" John teased as Delilah snickered, her eyes falling on the gun in her hands.

As always in business, Thomas started with a simple phrase that summed up their options.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Kimber."

As they exchanged the usual tough gangsters' talk, Freddie Thorne and Danny Owen appeared, holding a machine gun Delilah was pretty sure she had never seen anywhere else. Milo nudged her side and she noticed some of Changretta's men standing on the other side of the no-man's-land, and her smirk widened.

"Ma guarda un po'?" she asked, cutting the men's exchanges short as they glanced at her and Milo's devilish faces. "You're on the wrong side of the road, people."

"Is that so?" one of the men retorted while a laugh escaped another's lips.

"You'll realize it soon enough," the redhead promised with a wink.

The crowd from Kimber's side parted as another guest decided to attend the fight. Ada appeared, pushing Karl's pram in front of her. She stopped in the open space separating the two groups, a gasp coming from Freddie breaking the deadly silence.

"What are you doing?" the desperate husband shouted.

"I believe you boys call it no-man's-land."

"Ada!" Freddie shouted again.

Delilah nudged John's side, his head slightly leaning towards her so she would be hearable despite the couple's argument.

"She has the biggest balls among you all."

"Now, most of you were in France," Ada carried on once she had shut Freddie up. "I've got brothers and a husband here, but you've all got somebody waiting for you. Now, I'm wearing black in preparation. I want you to look at me."

"Damn, Ada," Delilah whispered, unable to hide her amazed expression.

"I want you all to look at me!" Ada repeated. "Who'll be wearing black for you? Think about them. Think about them right now, and fight if you want to. But that baby ain't moving anywhere. Neither am I."

A moment of silence passed by as they all stared at the courageous mother. The young, afraid young woman Delilah had met was gone as Ada stood her ground, not moving an inch.

It was Kimber who broke the silence floating on the battlefield.

"She's right, you know," Kimber agreed as he gestured to his men. "Why should all you men die? It should be them who caused it!"

It happened in a second. One tiny second and everything went wrong, yet again.

One shot.

Thomas was stepping back as the bullet landed in his chest.

Two shots.

Danny Whizz-Bang dead body hit the solid ground harshly.

Three shots.

Milo collapsed on the floor beside Delilah, a scream escaping her lips as John lifted her slightly with one arm, leaving enough space above his shoulder for the redhead to hold her gun up and shoot right into the killer's chest, her breath stuck in her throat when another shot echoed through the lane.

She barely had time to register Kimber's body falling on the ground or Thomas standing up despite the shot. The bullet pierced Kimber's skull as Delilah fell on her knees beside Milo's limp body. He was scarcely breathing as she brought her pale hands on the bullet wound, her gun long forgotten at John's feet.

"He was aiming at you," Milo hardly articulated the words as Delilah hushed him, not even listening to anything anyone was saying.

 Arthur leaned over her, placing a hand on her shoulder as she turned her teary eyes towards him.

"We have to get him inside," she pleaded, her voice trembling with pain.

Arthur nodded as he carefully picked up Milo's body, Angelo walking by his friend's side. As they stepped into the Garrison, they discovered Jeremiah struggling as he tried to take the bullet out of Tommy's bare chest. Delilah frowned as Arthur put Milo down on a table.

"Jeremiah," Delilah called swiftly, making it to Tommy's side. "I'll handle that. Stop Milo's bleeding and stitch it up. The bullet went out."

Jeremiah left the chair and joined Milo's side. Delilah grabbed the back of a chair and slammed the wooden furniture on the ground, cracking her fingers.

"Here we go, big boy," Delilah muttered as Arthur joined John behind his brother, the brothers holding both of Tommy's arms to prevent any movement. "I'm warning you, it's gonna hurt. Please try not to move. I'll do my best to make it quick."

She placed her other hand on Tommy's chest, lifting her eyes to meet his brothers' who nodded in response.

She dug one finger into the bullet wound, trying to ignore the man's roars of pain as she tried her best to reach for the bullet. Delilah grunted when Thomas moved a bit harsher than he should, making it harder for her to reach the fucking bullet. She huffed when her nails tapped something metallic, and her eyebrows furrowed in focus, knowing it was the most touchy part. One bad move and the bullet could damage another part of his flesh.

Thomas threw his head back as she slowly slid the bullet towards her, her nail securely hung on an excavated round of metal.

"We're almost there," she assured when he winced once again, gritting his teeth. "I know it hurts, it's almost done."

When she was finally able to fully remove the bullet, she let it fall on a small silver plate that had been undoubtedly brought by Jeremiah. Arthur outstretched a bottle of whiskey towards his younger brother, offering him a sip before he poured enough alcohol to sanitize the exposed flesh.

Blood had stained her finger. She stared at it for a moment before she came back to Earth.

"I'll have to stitch that up," she informed him. "Take a good sip, it's not gonna be funny."

Thomas did as he was told as she moved towards Jeremiah, taking the spare thread and a needle. Milo's breath was still laborious but it seemed a bit better. She walked back to her chair, noticing that everyone had retreated to the snug, paying their respects to Danny Whizz-Bang.

Delilah worked the thread within the needle in a heartbeat, her old habits re-emerging quickly. Once she was sure everything was in place, she approached the needle to Thomas's torso, lifting her eyes to make sure he was ready.

He was.

"Is he okay?" he found himself asking as Delilah slid the needle into his flesh.

"We'll see when he'll wake up," she responded, her eyes closely following the thread along his wound. "If he wakes up at all."

She stared at the thread for another second before she took a deep breath.

"I learned in Verdun," she revealed. "How to take out bullets with my bare hands. We were in desperate need of surgical supplies that never came, so we needed to identify which wound required a surgery and which one didn't. We selected. I didn't expect this one to be so far inside, though. The bastard did know how to shoot. On the good side, it'll provide some perspective to the tattoo."

She grabbed a pair of shiny scissors on the table and cut the thread as close to the wound she could manage to. She looked at her masterpiece, satisfied with the outcome of the stitches. Her eyes didn't leave the Romani sun tattooed on his chest, the uneven lines results of the rush regarding it being done quickly.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as she ran her fingers on the stitches, checking for any reaction of pain.

"You couldn't predict it," she responded in a low voice. "Of course, you should've shut your mouth, but the heart has its reasons, of which reason can't know. Plus, you took a fucking bullet, so I guess it kinda repays me. I'm sorry for Danny. I wished I'd known him more."

Thomas tried to ignore the clench of his heart when the words left her mouth, as well as the hurt in her green pupils. He was the reason behind these flashes of pain, whether it concerned the betrayal or the confused feelings that were tormenting her and were kept for another day. For a brighter day, when death wouldn't be waiting for them next door, when her best friend wouldn't be laying almost barely breathing on a table, when their wounds would not longer be still so damn opened.

Delilah wasn't really in the mood to celebrate, but she gave up after Polly forced her behind the counter with her to serve the brave boys who had fought that day. Delilah suspected another motive behind the woman's invitation but kept it silent, placing glasses in front of the three Shelby brothers. Angelo and Milo were missing, adding another weight on her heart. Her brother had offered to keep an eye on their friend, bringing him back to his property, so that Delilah could enjoy herself after that tough day. 

Indeed, it seemed that Polly took advantage of the boys' focusing on their drinking game as she leaned against the counter beside Delilah. 

"You shouldn't keep it to yourself," Polly stated calmly, bringing her glass of champagne to her thin lips. 

"What?" the redhead asked as she turned her head towards the brunette. 

"You softened," Polly responded with a smirk. "We both know why. Maybe he should as well."

"You're wrong," Delilah instantly denied. 

"Whatever you want to say, love. Then you tell me why he isn't lying dead in the Cut. You tell me why you didn't push him to tell you about the lie. You tell me."

That night, way after Thomas had come back from Grace's flat, after John and Arthur Shelby had passed away in the pub booth, two shots were fired through Small Heath, disrupting the neighbourhood new peace. Two shots that linked two different people, two broken hearts. 

Italian words: 

Grazie per essere venuti = thank you for coming

Credete in questo = do you believe in this?

Quindi non hai paura di morire = so you're not afraid to die?

Morire per la causa non mi spaventa = dying for the cause doesn't scare me

Hai sentito il capo = you heard the man

Ma guarda un po' = will you look at that

i can't believe we're done with season one omg!! so yeah, i was thinking about putting more angst in this chapter, but we gotta try that romance thing a little, don't we? tell me what you thought about it!