BIRMINGHAM, 1922

DELILAH DE LUCA HUFFED AS THE TRAIN STOPPED. Angelo was holding their luggage as the doors opened, letting out the flow of passengers. People were walking in a hurry, hoping to be let out of the station as quickly as possible. Angelo jumped off of the train marches, closely followed by his younger sister before they walked toward the exit. Angelo let go of their luggage when John came into view, spreading his arms to welcome the siblings greatly.

"About fuckin' time," he said while clapping his hand on Angelo's shoulder, his other arm wrapped around the redhead's shoulders.

During the entire month the siblings had spent in Sicily, they hadn't once seen a cloud. As she lifted her eyes towards the sky, Delilah felt unpleased at the sight of heavy rainclouds mixed with the factories smoke.

"Did you miss us?" Delilah teased with a raised eyebrow when he let her go.

"You wish," John replied with a wink, his arms swung around their shoulders as he guided them to a shiny Bugatti parked on the sidewalk.

Delilah sighed as she inhaled deeply, the multiple scents composing Birmingham's air invading her nostrils. She could remember almost all of them, even the slightest scent of gasoline running through the street as John held a door open for her to climb into the car. Once she was settled in, Delilah stared outside the window, her chin resting in her palm.

"I can't believe we came back for a funeral on my birthday," she sighed.

"Your birthday?" John repeated as Angelo glared at him. "Ah, yeah, your birthday."

The redhead scoffed as John easily drove through Watery Lane. He parked in front of the Shelbys' house and the three of them exited the car, leaving the siblings' luggage behind. John's grin was huge when they stepped into the house only to discover the four other members of the family waiting for them.

"Welcome back!" Polly exclaimed with a smile as she approached Delilah and wrapped her arms around her.

"Thank you," Delilah gratefully said with a wide smile as Polly let her go and allowed Arthur to engulf her in his strong arms.

Arthur towered over as her she wrapped her arms around his neck with a laugh. He lifted her from the ground and she chuckled, kicking her feet in the air. He put her back on the ground as Finn smiled widely and she opened her arms for him to hug her. In the past two years, Finn had grown up so much, Delilah felt older with every centimetre he took.

"You grew up so much!"

Finn scoffed as he broke their embrace, his eyes no longer looking up at her but being almost at the same level as hers. Angelo burst out laughing as Arthur muttered something, smacking his hand on the dark-haired boy's shoulder. Delilah's eyes fell on Thomas, and she hesitated.

The last time she had seen him was two days before her departure, when she had told him she wouldn't be in Birmingham for a month, but that fortunately, Milo (who had survived the Changretta's personal attack on Black Star Day) would still be there to tell him everything he would need during her absence.

According to the two or three phone calls she had received from Milo, everything had been going on good for Shelby Company Limited. Once or twice a week, Milo would meet the family to provide some pieces of information and give news coming directly from De Luca siblings. Polly had called a few times, as well as Ada (who asked for her phone number after she left with Freddie for London, in case she would need some advice to securely navigate through the busy town).

Delilah smiled and moved to the older man, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his around her waist, her long hair brushing against his hands. She laughed as she heard John whispered to everyone the importance of this day as Thomas snorted in her ear.

"Happy birthday," he whispered.

When they broke apart, Arthur jumped around her as John engulfed in another embrace. Polly shouted at their behaviour as Delilah laughed even louder, outstretching her hand to stop them.

"Happy birthday even if I've totally forgotten about it," John said as he let her go, much to Polly's delight.

"Yeah, let's talk about my birthday," Delilah muttered. "Attending my friend's husband's funeral, coming back from a very sunny vacation to that rainy town, and my best mate actually forgot about it."

Polly made her way past her nephews as John crossed his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed at the redhead's teasing.

"The good thing is that you're stunning," Polly stated as she softly placed her hand on Delilah's forearm.

"Yeah, no shit," she responded with an eye roll, Arthur scoffing behind her. "That's not unusual. I'm a blessing for your eyes."

Polly swiftly took her hand off Delilah's arm as the redhead's lips parted in an already happy smile.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back?"

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Graveyards sucked.

Delilah hadn't had many opportunities to bury a loved one, except for her grandfather when she was five. Ever since, whatever God may reside in the sky had preserved their family from any other fatality, which was a blessing now that she was standing in front of Freddie's grave. John was, once again, standing by her side while Esme held their newborn in her arms, trying to hush him every time he started to cry.

That was another thing that sucked: babies.

The clouds Delilah had seen accumulating in the sky that morning had decided to let go of their water excess, pouring it down on Birmingham. Thankfully, Polly had anticipated the meteorological tantrums and had brought an umbrella with her, which was held above both the women's heads, offering a bit of shelter.

If she was honest, she wasn't paying attention at anything the preach and later Thomas had to say about Freddie. Instead, her mind escaped to the last time she had seen the man alive, a few months prior, when she was visiting her parents in London and had happened to run into the couple. They didn't take too much time to talk since Ada had run away from Birmingham to make sure she wouldn't be identified as a Shelby anymore, but they had exchanged a few words. Delilah had seen Karl, the little kid laboriously walking around his mother, and that was it.

Now, Freddie was dead, taking away by a fucking disease. He should've died as a soldier.

Delilah came back to the present when Karl ran into her leg. He would have fallen if it wasn't for the redhead's fast instinct, her hand quickly grabbing his wrist and keep him standing before he could drop on the humid ground.

"Oi, careful there, sweetheart," Delilah cooed as she ruffled the tiny boy's hair. "Go on."

Most of the people had scattered on different parts of the graveyard, and her eyes found Thomas and Ada discussing a few meters away from Freddie's freshly dug grave. The redhead sighed when Ada's arms moved harshly, results of her annoyance, and she decided to try and put her own word in their conversation — which she knew was about Ada's possible return to Birmingham, now that she was alone in London.

"Ada!" Delilah called as she tried not to fall, her high-heels easily sinking in the soft ground.

Ada slowly turned around and faced the redhead, immediately opening her arms. Delilah hugged the brunette as she silently mouthed a 'let me try' towards Thomas. Ada held her tighter before she let her go, her cerulean eyes searching for her son before they fell on her friend's face again.

"It's been too long," the brunette stated, efficiently ignoring her older brother.

"It has!" Delilah agreed as she placed her hand on the young woman's arm. "I'm sorry about Freddie. He was good."

Ada nodded and pursed her lips, her eyes glowing with tears for a slight moment.

"Thank you."

Delilah nodded and turned her head towards the children. They were playing around a grave and Polly fastly made her way towards them, crouching down with Karl by her side, his tiny hand wrapped around the older woman's.

"And your little man, he grows up so fast," the redhead sighed as she turned back to Ada. "How are you able to handle him alone? He surely looks like a great bundle of energy."

"Yeah, it can be hard sometimes," Ada responded with a smile. "But he's a sweetheart, really."

"Polly would be delighted to help you, you know."

Ada sighed and ran her hand over her face, a gesture she had seen many times in the Shelby family.

"I don't want to," she denied. "I'm not around for a good reason, Della."

"Trust me, love, I know," the redheaded woman agreed. "But we'll all feel better if you were here. At least, if you were visiting sometimes. I have so much gossip waiting for you, I miss killing time with you."

Emotional manipulation was the easiest way to go through people. However, the words moved beyond heartless manipulation: Delilah meant everything she had said. The idea of young Ada, living in London all by herself when the Shelbys were making more and more enemies day after day was simply terrifying.

"Please, think about it," Delilah pressed, taking the brunette's hand in hers.

"Okay, I'll think about it," Ada sighed. "Maybe. I need to go."

Delilah wrapped her arms around Ada's shoulders once again, hugging her for a second before she let go, standing beside Thomas as they both stared at Ada's retreating figure.

"How do you do that?"

"You just don't know how to talk to women, Tom," she joked, sliding her hands in her black coat pockets. "I can put some of my men to look after her if you want me to."

As Delilah's eyes followed Ada until she disappeared in a car, Thomas looked down at the redhead. She hadn't changed much, whether it was in two years or within a month, except for her skin which had slightly tanned under Sicily's burning sun. Her freckles had also turned darker and were more noticeable now, scattered around her nose and across her cheeks. Standing there, with her eyebrows furrowed in worry, her fiery hair swept by the wind, and her body all dressed in black, Delilah looked like a true goddess.

"What's that?" she asked, tearing Tommy's eyes away from her as she pointed at a man leaning forward to share a few words with the oldest Shelby brother.

"I wouldn't know," the dark-haired man sighed as Arthur walked towards them, gesturing for them to meet him halfway.

"We have a problem, guys," Arthur stated as he placed a hand in Delilah's back, pushing her towards one of Tommy's Bugattis.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

There was, indeed, a big problem.

Delilah exited the Bugatti with the help of the chauffeur, her eyes widened when she took sight of the blown-up Garrison. A policeman she recognized as Moss shooed a few orphans away from the bomb site and she carefully made her way beside Thomas and Polly, standing up in front of the pub.

"What the fuck happened here?" she whispered as she stopped next to Polly, the woman glancing at her before she was making her way into the pub. "Maybe you shouldn't go in there!"

The older woman ignored the redhead as Moss joined Tommy's side, his hands crossed behind his back. Delilah glanced at him, unsure what to say to the policeman — if she had something to say at all. Her birthday was a fucking tragedy.

"It happened at exactly seven a.m," Moss started to explain, leaning slightly closer to Thomas as if keeping everything a secret. "Nobody saw anything, our patrols weren't in the area. Mr Shelby, have you got any idea who might've done it?"

Delilah glanced up at him before she drifted her eyes towards Polly's disappearing figure through the rubble. A warning died on her lips the second the woman crouched down on the ground as Thomas searched for something in his coat pocket.

"I'd say it was something to do with the gas," Thomas responded as he outstretched a money roll towards the Sergeant. "It's just been fitted."

Delilah rolled her eyes. Polly came back to them with a handful of green and white confetti, outstretching it towards the two business people. Thomas took the confetti from his aunt's hand and showed them to his redheaded associate. Delilah gasped as one of her fingers carefully picked up a few confetti and held it. She lifted her green troubled orbs to meet Tommy's calm ones as if he wasn't even disturbed by the conclusion they could both reach.

"Fuck," Delilah muttered, turning around so she wouldn't have to face Polly anymore. She ran her hands through her red curls, a sigh escaping her lips as she stared at the heavy clouds.

"You can go," Thomas stated as he turned towards Moss.

The Sergeant nodded and made his way out of the site, a frustrated huff escaping his parted lips.

"Who?" Polly demanded, her eyes travelling from Tommy's to Delilah's forms. "Who did this to us?"

Delilah stepped towards Thomas, her stare cold as her eyes fell on Polly. For the first time in two years, it seemed like the redhead was ready to handle things, no matter how bloody her hands would be after this.

"We should go to the Black Lion," she spoke, stealing Thomas' attention from his aunt.

"'We'?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow at her. "You're not going anywhere."

Delilah tugged on Thomas' coat, bringing him closer to her and her eyes never left his. He hadn't changed much either, except his pupils which had turned a lot colder every time it involved her safety — involved her, period.

"I'm not letting you go alone," she firmly assured. "If this is you they want, I'll let you go, but at least let me go with you to the pub."

Thomas sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face, glancing at the people pacing around the blown-up pub, hardly hiding their curiosity. Delilah felt her heart beat faster than before when his eyes fell on her pleading face once again, and he found himself unable to say no. He groaned something, and Delilah knew she had won. They didn't wait for Polly to ask any further questions as they left towards the Black Lion, walking side by side.

The redhead could sense Thomas's tension just by the way he was walking — fast. Faster than she could manage to catch up, so as soon as she decided that it was enough, she grabbed his arm and forced him to slow down, once again triggering a groan erupting from his throat.

"Slow down," she commanded as Tommy rolled his eyes, though he did as he was told — slightly. "Listen, I have to tell you something."

Thomas glanced down at her before she pushed him into an empty alleyway, too afraid to report what had been going on the last few days in Birmingham — at least, what Milo had told her, and what she believed with every piece of her heart — in the middle of the street, where walls had ears. Danger was everywhere, she had learned.

"What is it?" Tommy asked as she leaned against a wall, glaring at a single woman who was no doubt taking a shortcut to Small Heath main street.

"Milo called me about a week before Angelo and I decided to leave Sicily," she started, nervously fidgeting. "And he called me again three days ago. He said it was an important matter that couldn't be truly verified at the moment, but could cause a lot of problems if not taken seriously. I laughed when he told me but now I don't want to anymore. He's right."

Delilah breathed in as someone once again walked through the alleyway, speeding up when the two gangsters profusely glared at him.

"Some of my informants told me they heard about two people lately, who've been asking questions," she whispered, talking faster than she had ever done. "Irene O'Donnell, Donal Henry. They reported a certain amount of questions they asked around pubs, all about you. I gathered some pieces of information just in case. She has a son in Harborne, he's going to that school, Cherrywood Road School. Apparently, the poor kid is crippled, so he can't run. As for Donal Henry, I couldn't find many things about him, which can only mean one thing: he's protected. Better than his poor comrade."

Delilah stopped speaking and she pushed through Thomas's body to walk down the street again, barely waiting for him to catch up — even if he easily did. The redhead glanced at him, his face emotionless as it always was, before he cleared his throat.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't believe it was that important," she quietly responded as the Black Lion came into view. "People ask questions about you every day, and I mean, every fucking day. But I apologize because I didn't push the investigations and ignored the allegations made against Henry."

Thomas hummed as they made their way into the pub. It was the first time Delilah was setting foot into that underground, dark pub and she didn't regret it: it was nothing like the Garrison, though she easily imagined it could be just as good when the Paddies decided to party a little. It seemed like Thomas, on the other hand, had been in that place before as the barman asked him about his business — but then again, everyone was asking questions about the Gypsy bastard who was designated as royalty in Small Heath.

A kid walked down the dozen of stairs that lead into the pub and stared into the main room, not bothered by the eyes focused on his tiny form, about to shoo him away.

"Which one of you is the Peaky Blinder devil?"

Thomas downed his drink, slamming his glass on the counter, and placed his peaky hat above his dark hair. Delilah felt a lump forming in her throat as he was about to go. She didn't want to forbid the words to cross the border of her plump lips, hence why her hand reached again for his sleeve before he could disappear behind the child.

"Be careful."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Apparently, Delilah's birthday was cursed.

The second she sat down at her kitchen table with the firm intention to enjoy a piece of her birthday cake, Angelo came in, an apologetic smile covering his lips, and dragged her all the way to the betting shop for a family meeting.

The De Luca siblings weren't related to the Shelbys in any form, and sometimes Delilah found herself happy that she wasn't. However, they were a part of their flourishing business, and without their help, they all bloody knew the London expansion would be a fucking mess. They were precious, and they were appreciated for everything they could do for them, along with the strong friendships they had made over the two and a half years they had entered Thomas Shelby's business.

When the siblings stepped into the meeting room, Finn stopped his nervous pacing around for a second, only to start again when he had identified the two newcomers as friends. Polly and John were standing next to the window, while Esme was silently reading a book, sitting down in the staircase. As for Arthur, the oldest Shelby brother was down at the table in the middle of the room and was following his younger brother's movement around.

"Sit down, Finn," he finally commanded, the young man sighing but doing as he was told.

The tension was palpable in the room and Delilah took a deep breath, trying not to focus on the reasons why they could all be so stressed out. Well, all of them except for Polly and Arthur, the former answering one of John's questions in a calm voice, her eyes never leaving the window, as the latter cleared his throat.

"While we're waiting patiently," Arthur said as he stood up from his seat, walking towards a box that had been placed on the ground. "Whiskey."

The men served glasses and passed them around, leaving one for Delilah's birthday, considering that they wouldn't be eating cake at a family meeting. The redhead took a sip of the amber liquor and felt the slight burn spread in her body as the alcohol entered her system. She sighed when she placed the glass down, her eyes falling on John's nervous face who was glancing now and then at his wife.

John stayed up at one end of the table, his hands crossed behind his back as Delilah took a seat beside Arthur, therefore having an amazing view on John's waiting figure.

"Right," he finally said, and it felt like the overwhelming tension only grew thicker. "Before Tommy gets here, there's a few things we need to get straight between the rest of us."

Delilah's eyes widened and she buried her amused smile behind her glass as Polly turned her head to stare at her nephew.

"You think?"

"Yeah, I do," John responded, and Delilah couldn't help but think that maybe, John had finally found his long lost balls. "I want to know when did we take a vote for this expansion south?"

"You have anything to say, you wait for Thomas," Polly commanded as she took feline steps forward, stopping behind the redhead and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Polly's fucking right," Arthur agreed beside Delilah, but John didn't get flustered by his family's threatening words.

"I see all the books," the man carried on. "Legal and off track. Sort of stuff you don't see. And in the past year, the Shelby Company Limited had been making a hundred and fifty pounds a day. A fucking day! Sometimes more. So what I want to know is why are we changing things? Polly, look what's happened already. We haven't set foot in London yet and they've already blown up our fucking pub."

"Who said anything about the Cockneys?" Arthur asked as he shot an apologetic glance towards Delilah when the words left his mouth.

"Who else?" Esme spoke for the first time, and the woman's intentions turned clearer in Delilah's mind.

She was the one who sowed doubt about London, leading to John's concerns as well as she probably questioned Delilah's abilities to obtain pieces of information coming from London.

"You know who did it, don't you?" Polly asked as she moved to the entrance of the room, leaving Delilah's side.

"No, she doesn't know who did it," John argued as the brunette turned back to her book.

Thomas's steps were heard from the entrance and he stepped in, glancing at his brother and John's wife.

"I'm told only family are allowed to speak."

Thomas stood beside his aunt, his hands in his trousers pockets.

"Everyone's allowed to speak," he stated. "On your feet, Esme. Let's hear what you have to say."

John cleared his throat and straightened up, clearly trying to steal the show from his wife.

"I speak for our household," he affirmed, his voice firm and calm.

"John," Thomas warned, not having any of it. "This company is a modern enterprise and believes in equal rights for women. On your feet, Esme."

"Yeah, John," Delilah muttered. "Let your lovely wife share this with the class."

"Are we gonna have a problem, Sunflower?" John demanded as he leaned forward slightly.

"That we fucking are," Delilah responded with a smile as Arthur placed a hand on her shoulder, trying his best to hush her. "After your wife's speech though, if you will. I wouldn't want to trouble your pursuit of brand new fuckin' balls."

"Enough, Della," Angelo groaned as she joined her side, his hands placed on the shoulder that wasn't already held by Arthur's giant palm.

Delilah cleared her throat as Esme hesitantly stood up on the stair, leaving her book behind her. It was true she seemed nervous to speak in front of all of them, but she didn't flinch when she started.

"I'm not a bloody member of this family," the brunette started. "But perhaps, indeed, because I'm not a member I can see things in a different light. So I'll get to my point."

"That would be nice," Polly, who had sat down on the empty spot next to Delilah in case the latter would cause another fight or commit a fucking murder over one of her family's members, agreed.

Delilah snorted but came back to her senses under Tommy's glare. She cleared her throat and decided to keep her frustration for after the speech, lighting up a cigarette instead.

"As my husband said, Shelby Company Limited is now very successful. But London," Esme carried on with a sigh. "I have Kin in Shepherd's Bush and Portobello. It's more like wars between armies down there, and the coppers fight side-by-side with them. And there are foreigners of every description and the use of bombs is the least of it. I have a child, blessed with the Shelby family good looks. I want John to see him grow up. I want us to someday live somewhere with fresh air and trees and keep chickens or something. But London is just smoke and trouble, Thomas."

"'Thomas'?" Polly repeated with widened eyes as Delilah scoffed behind her cigarette.

"That's all I have to say."

John glanced at his wife and turned around slightly as all of them stared at his wife.

"That was a lot of words," Arthur stated while nodding his head.

"A bloody lot," Delilah agreed while pursing her lips. John instantly turned around and stared at her, a glare darkening his usually sweet pupils. "What?"

"How about you say what you fuckin' have to say, eh?" John demanded.

Polly turned towards the redhead when she scoffed out loud, crushing her cigarette in a nearby ashtray and standing up to face Esme. Arthur shared a glance with Angelo, both of them making sure they'd be ready if things were to get out of hands.

"Have you ever been to London yourself, Esme?" Delilah asked and at the lack of answer coming from the brunette, she snapped her fingers. "That's what I thought. Now, if you want to speak about something, you'd better know actual facts about that thing, that'll make the speech a lot fucking better. But I forgive you because you've got balls, unlike a certain someone around that table."

Arthur placed his hand on the woman's forearm and forced her to sit back in case she would launch herself at the poor Esme.

"As for the pub, if it was indeed related to Londoners, I would've known, and I would've told you, because I gather this kind of information for you and report it to you and your husband," Delilah explained. "You're fuckin' free to question my abilities if you want to, regardless of how good I know London and how business is conduct there. But then, I'll invite your dear husband to go and try to expand on himself, blindly, without any information and we'll see how he does. We'll see how he does."

Silence lingered in the room as Delilah focused on lighting up another cigarette. She took a drag, trying to stop the shaking of her hands as Polly placed her warm fingers around the redhead's wrist, sensing the upcoming anger rising in Delilah's chest.

"Right," Thomas finally spoke, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Esme. Firstly, the bang in the pub has nothing to do with London, understood? The bang is something I'm dealing with on my own. Secondly, we've nothing to fear from the proposed business expansion as long as we stick together. And after the first few weeks, nine-tenths of what we do in London will be legal. The other tenth is in good hands, isn't that right, Arthur?"

"That's right," the oldest sibling confirmed.

"Now, some of you in this room have expressed your reservations. Fair enough. Any of you who don't want no part in the future of the company, walk out the door, right now," Thomas commanded as a cloud of smoke exited his lips. "But for those of you with ambitions, the expansion process begins tomorrow."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

Irish informants were the best because they were fast. As soon as something was brought to their attention, something that she could find useful, one of her little birds was whispering in her ears. It was delightful.

That night, it came to her attention that someone knew something about the reason why Thomas was needed from the Paddies that had kidnapped him earlier that day. Of course, when she had asked questions about it, Thomas didn't answer, assuring it was handled instead of confiding on what was going on. Fortunately, a woman like her could always count on her men to tell her whatever she needed to know when she wanted to.

A factory man without a name was to be dead tonight, by Thomas Shelby's hands. Delilah even heard about the agreement he passed with Sergeant Moss for the area to be cleared from coppers between midnight and four in the morning, a few hours before they were to leave for London.

Delilah walked faster as she cornered the street and the factory came into view. She walked further up, as silently as she could manage, before she stopped completely behind a wall made of sheet metal. Her hair was pushed back in a tight bun, preventing any flyaways to get into her view, and her dress was as dark as the night. She noticed Thomas Shelby throwing a cigarette on the ground as a worker passed by, and she narrowed her eyes when he seemed to look through his pockets.

A gun then found its way between his strong hands.

He approached the man and raised the gun, his hands steady, not even flinching when the gunshot echoed through the whole street. Delilah gasped as she hid completely behind the wall, her hand covering her mouth as she felt her breath becoming heavier. Her eyes watered as her brain carried her to another place, almost two years ago, when everything was supposed to go well and had gone wrong, because that was what Birmingham had done to all her plans.

Fuck them up.

The misfire.

The screams.

The blood.

Everything flashed in her mind all at once as she crouched closer to the dirty floor, careless whether her dress was to be soiled. Her hands gripped the roots of her hair as she heard a cry escaping her lips, while she stayed there, alone, with her torturing memories.

Her steady hands.

Her unbothered soul.

Her focused eyes.

Her precise shot.

How in two years, nothing from this night had disappeared, neither did the memories hurt less. How she had been the monster that day, and how Thomas had turned himself into one that very night. How similarly monstrous their souls were.

No wonder they understood each other when they could bound over the darkness of their hearts, the depths of their bleak souls. Their empty eyes, their unforgiving shots, their always working brains.

Yes, it was no wonder.