Delilah couldn't find herself falling asleep after the cold murder she had witnessed. No wonder Thomas wouldn't talk about it to anyone. It had been hired as a fucking hitman.

She didn't spend her night doing nothing, however. Since she was the last one to be picked up by Thomas in the morning, she had all the time in the world to get ready and to find the perfect fit for the Eden Club. It didn't matter that she didn't live in London anymore, she would never show up dressed as a fucking flannel sock.

So when the shiny Fiat parked in front of her house, they didn't even have to call her because she was already outside, smoking a well-deserved cigarette and glancing every once in a while into the opened front door in case her brother would change his mind and tag along for the most important vacation of their lives.

"Sunflower!" John exclaimed as he stared at her up and down. "You look—"

"I know," she responded with a shrug, adjusting her white fur coat around her thin shoulders.

She had put her whole heart in her outfit, mostly to distract her from the previous night assassination, but also because it was what she used to live for, and for once she had the perfect occasion to look good, she wouldn't let it go.

Delilah had put on her favourite pink dress, shining with silver sequins around the V-neckline, showing a bit of cleavage she was more than able to appreciate. The three-fourth sleeves were hidden under the fur coat long ones, and the dress fell a few inches under her knees, wrapping her body perfectly in its soft fabric. Her hair was half-up half-down with a distinguished ponytail joining the free straight bangs in the middle of her back, two little bangs circling her heart-shaped face. Her make-up was soft but perfectly fitting her outfit — no wonder the redheaded woman was stunning, she had put efforts in it.

"Are you going to open that door or what?" she asked as Arthur nodded, exiting the car to let her in beside John.

"Where's your brother?" the younger sibling asked.

"Where's your wife?" she retorted as Arthur snorted. "I mean, you gonna need that attitude from the other day, do you think you can manage it without her?"

Arthur laughed as Thomas sped up down the street, Delilah's red hair flying around her head just like a fiery halo. Arthur stood up on his seat as they turned on the main road, a shout escaping his lips as he spread his arms.

"The Peaky Blinders are goin' on fuckin' holidays!"

"Arthur!" Delilah screamed as John outstretched his hand to grab his brother's sleeve and sit him back. "Get your arse back on that seat!"

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

The countryside was absolutely magnificent. Delilah had had the opportunity to drive one time back to London after she had moved to Birmingham, and she still felt like her heart was travelling to another world when she was staring at the tall yellowing grass prairies and square-shaped lakes. As she stayed leaning against the Fiat door, bouncing her legs so they wouldn't go numb again, a cigarette hanging at the corner of her plump mouth and the gentle wind sweeping her hair around, she imagined what it would be like growing old in a little cottage by a lake, with her kids running around her and her husband sitting down with her, under the sun.

She came back to her senses when the boys approached the car again and Thomas threw back a tarp of sorts covering the back of the car. There was a corpse hidden under, a corpse she did recognize as the man Thomas Shelby shot the previous night. She couldn't believe the dead body was there, his head all covered in blood as she noticed the bullet wound piercing through his forehead — directly into the brain.

"For fuck's sake," John muttered as Thomas gave him a shovel, his cigar clutched between two of his fingers.

"I almost asked," the redhead stated as she joined the boys' sides. "I almost asked how many corpses we'd need to bury before we get to London. For God's sake, Thomas."

"We need to bury him," the dark-haired male stated as his brothers stared at the man's dead body, unable to move.

"Who the fuck is that?" John asked as Delilah scrunched up her nose in disgust. She was the only one who knew — apart from Thomas, of course — and she couldn't say anything, not even to the man's executioner. She found herself silent when faced with the real matter.

"It's Irish business," Thomas responded, casting a glance towards the redhead. "It thought it best if I dealt with it on my own."

"Jesus Christ."

"Come on, we did a thousand of these in France," Thomas said, his brothers nervously shifting from one foot to another as they stared at the dead body. "John, grab his head."

"So we're not really going to London, eh?" John groaned as he stepped into the booth, his face scrunched up in horror when he had to straddle the body to get to his head.

"Of course we are," Delilah snorted. "What else would I be doing here? As far as I'm concerned, fucking dead bodies don't gather information, nor do they contribute to an expansion."

"Once we bury him, then the holiday begins."

"For fuck's sake," Delilah cursed as she walked on the other side of the car, grabbing John's shovel harshly and following Arthur to the side of the road where the older man had begun digging. "I hate you."

She didn't.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

She had missed London, the laughs echoing through the streets and the people partying on the sidewalk. Delilah felt like she was back home, and she was ready to shake it down with her three associates. If before she was scared to even set foot in the Eden Club when she had had too much of a drink, now she wasn't even bothered by the fact that a gun rested in a strap securely wrapped around her thigh.

"How's it like not to be the superstar, for once?" Delilah asked as she walked first to the Eden Club doors, her heels clicking on the pavement until they reached the front of the Club. "Welcome to London, folks. The ultimate Land of Sin."

Delilah walked towards the men at the entrance, flashing her most beautiful smile as they parted in front of her.

"Giacomo, è passato troppo tempo," she stated as the security guard opened the door for her and her comrades.

The four made their way, led by Delilah, through a bun of cokehead sniffling the delightful — or so she had heard — white powder from plain wooden surfaces and rather loud couples engaged in acts of intimacy barely covered by the loud music playing in the ballroom. A few men turned around from their performing partners to stare at the renowned redheaded beauty making her powerful way right towards the dancing room, her fellow companions obnoxiously closing ranks around their woman colleague.

"Come on, don't act so jealous, my dears," she mused as she linked her arm with John's. "To possess, you have to share."

"It's a fucking freak show," Arthur spoke up as Thomas glanced at the redhead ahead of them.

The four made their way through the dancers, some of them bumping into the men who cast glares at them. Delilah led them to the table as Arthur raised a brow at the music blasting through the Club.

"What the fuck is that racket?" he asked as the redhead searched for an empty spot.

"That's what they call music these days, brother," Thomas responded with a shrug.

"Delilah!"

The redhead turned her head to stare at a woman excitedly waving at her. She recognized her as one of Kimber's old associates' wives, her short blonde curls framing her face.

"Oh fuck," she sighed as she turned towards her friends. "You find a table, try not to murder anyone, I'll handle the rest. I'll be back in a minute."

The brothers kept their eyes on her until she stopped by the table, moving a strand of her hair behind her shoulder. It was clear she was a Club's regular and she even walked as she owned it — they would have believed she did if they didn't know her. Everyone was asking for her attention, asking her to have a drink with them. She truly was a queen, here, in London.

She finally came back towards them and slid her hand around a waiter's arm.

"A bottle of Irish whiskey for the table over there, please," she ordered with her softest voice.

The waiter blinked a few times, not realizing that the Italian princess had returned, and he nodded. As soon as her hand left his arm, he felt like his body was cold, deprived so suddenly of her warm touch as she walked to the table, taking the empty spot beside Thomas and glancing at the waiter as he made his way through the dancers.

"You truly know everyone, don't you?" Thomas asked as the redheaded woman hummed.

"Wait until I'll find them, then we'll talk about knowing everyone," she responded with a wink. She caught John staring at a waitress and she leaned forward, slapping his shoulder playfully. "Oi, Johnny, it's not a holiday of the heart!"

"That place's alright," John said with a grin when another woman passed by him.

"Yeah, I figured you'd like it," Delilah agreed with a smile.

They looked around for a second until John spoke again.

"Fuckin' hell, I recognize a few of these lads."

"I'd be concerned if you didn't," Delilah said while lighting up her cigarette. "Welcome to Sabini's Eden Club, my dear friends."

John's eyes widened as Arthur's head turned around and he stared at a man sparing glances towards the group, and the older Shelby man turned back to his friends.

"These are Sabini's cousins," Delilah explained as her deep orbs drifted towards the men sitting around at the table.

"Everybody's a fuckin' face," John worriedly cursed as Delilah smiled at the waiter who brought their order.

"Just the lieutenants, not the officers," Thomas stated as his cerulean pupils travelled the diversity of faces around the club until they fell on Delilah's. "Maybe you shouldn't be here."

"And miss the opportunity to make the score of my fuckin' lifetime?" she said with a laugh, leaning closer to the man as John poured their drinks. "That worried look is adorable on you, but I can make my own decisions. If something goes wrong, I'll face the consequences."

Two men made their way to the table, their black suits impeccable and big smiles covering their features. One of them placed his hands on both Arthur's and Delilah's shoulders, and the redhead's eyes fell on the hand connecting with her skin before she audibly huffed.

"Gentlemen, Miss De Luca, there's been a mistake," he explained, trying to keep his voice apologetic even if he clearly couldn't be happier. "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave."

"E cosi?" Delilah asked with a snort as John stared at the man, his orbs darkening with every second passing.

"We just bought a fuckin' bottle," John argued, pointing at the almost untouched bottle as his three friends glanced at each other.

It seemed like the tension building between the groups finally struck into the man's brain as his smile fell and creases formed on his forehead.

"Some of the men here recognize you from the racetracks in the North."

"Yeah, we get that a lot," Arthur confirmed with a smug grin on his face that even threatening words and unpleased faces couldn't take away from him.

"They say you have no business coming south of the line without prior argument," the man carried on, growing more and more anxious as the conversation seemed to lead nowhere but trouble for both sides.

"And what line would that be, my friend?" Thomas asked while bringing his glass to his lips, downing the drink in a gulp.

"They say this is provocation."

"Probably would've been if my fellas over there weren't on vacation, and accompanied by me, daughter of Robert De Luca, right?" Delilah mocked with a raised eyebrow, delighted by the situation.

"You're breaking the rules," the man finally snapped, his hands shaking slightly by his side as he glanced at the redheaded woman. "They say you are the Peaky Blinders."

Glass shattered as a bottle was thrown towards their table, smashing the lamp of sorts resting on the pretty tablecloth. Thomas slammed his fists against the wooden surface, pieces of glass falling on the ground as Delilah and his brothers stood up, ready for anything that was to come.

A good old-fashioned fight was Delilah's main source of adrenaline. She bent over to tear her gun away from its strap around her leg and threw the barrel in a man's temple, hard enough so he wouldn't be standing up for a few seconds. Her eyes then fell on a guy she had already seen around and was a bit saddened to be fighting with, but as he smacked his fist over her cheek, splitting her bottom lip, all sadness was long forgotten. Her hand connected with his nose as blood splattered from the broken nose, her knuckles turning red — and she wasn't able to separate his blood from hers.

She knocked another man out of consciousness with the side of her gun which she slammed across his face, and before she truly realized it, no one was coming at her anymore. The three unconscious bodies resting by her feet had proven that even a woman could fight properly, without any bullet being fired nor any knife being stabbed.

Delilah turned around to stare at her friends who were still fighting a few men for good measure. They had already won, after all. John was smacking a man's face with his fist as Thomas threw his peaky hat across people's head, leaving large razor cuts on their cheeks and lips as they fell to the ground. Arthur, who she had heard needed a serious treatment to calm himself down, was fighting more like an enraged lion than a simple human being, throwing punches and kicks all around his enemies.

A man approached her once again and she spun on her heels, throwing another punch of hers in his face — not before he could reach for her cheek and slap it with the back of his hand, worsening the bloody slit across her lip. Delilah then turned back towards her friends, this time admiring one of them particularly attentively.

Thomas, unlike his older brother, didn't seem like he was an animal released to fight, but the fact didn't take away the beauty of his actions with every cut traced on people's faces. It seemed like he was passionate, moving around the table like a dancer, the precision of the attacks showing that despite his nonchalant form of battle, he knew what he was doing. It looked like he had reunited with an old lover, finding his old habits and holding his ground forcefully. It wasn't like when she had seen him cold-blooded killing a man without a flinch; he seemed alive this time, as he spun around and around to hurt as many enemies as he could, the beast he could be taking over the diplomatic man she had exchanged with so many times.

The Devil Himself resided in that darken soul, behind these Godly features, not in the form of a killer, or not entirely though, but in a true fighter. In someone who could kill without even a slight regret and mutter a prayer with every blow. Both human and beast sharing the same body.

A single bullet was fired that night, and for once, it wasn't from any of the Shelbys' nor from Delilah's own hands. The very man who had talked to them a few minutes prior was standing on a table that hadn't been turned upside down, holding a gun in one of his hands, and had fired towards the ceiling. The dancers, who had been unbothered by the bloody fight going on, all scattered around the room, and the music stopped around them. The men that had been thrown to the ground moaned as they rolled to their side, some of them barely regaining consciousness.

"Get out," the man said, pointing his gun right into the group that had reunited in the centre of the room.

Thomas took a few steps forward, and Delilah tried to forget how attractive he was, standing there in all his glory, with his jet-black hair sticking to his forehead and slightly out of breath.

"Yeah?" he asked as he stopped in front of the man. "Are you going to use that?"

The man seemed to hesitate, his other hand securely wrapped around the weapon as Thomas nodded, Delilah's teeth digging into her bottom lip slightly — just for a second though as a sharp pain erupted from the cut.

"Didn't think so," Thomas stated firmly as he turned around, grabbing the bottle of whiskey they had left behind. "We came here not to make enemies. We came here to make new friends!"

Delilah turned her head just in time to see John kissing a dancer as Arthur kicked an unconscious man's body harshly.

"Those of you who are last will soon be first," he carried on, pointing at nobody in particular in the crowd. "And those of you who are downtrodden will rise up. You know where to find us."

They exited the club and a laugh bubbled in Delilah's throat, a laugh she didn't let out until they had crossed the street.

"I think I've lost a tooth!" Arthur exclaimed as Delilah bumped into John's arm slightly, sliding her gun in her coat pocket. "I'll have none left at this rate!"

Tommy outstretched the bottle towards his older brother as Delilah wiped the blood away from her lip, only to spread some of the men's mixed bloods over her cheeks. John laughed and slammed his arm around the tiny redhead's shoulders, dragging her closer to his side.

"What the hell was that, eh, Sunflower?"

"I grew up with an older brother and under Robert De Luca's eyes, what do you think it fucking was, eh?" she responded with a chuckle. "You alright, pal? Found this pair of balls we talked about?"

"No more talk of chickens, you hear me?" Thomas commanded as John's laugh echoed through the city walls. "I have 50 quid in my pocket, let's paint this town, eh?"

Delilah turned towards Thomas before she took a few steps forward, facing them with her arms spread.

"You're in my fucking town, mates, let me show you 'round!"

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

The Red Galleon was still running, and the simple fact lit up Delilah's heart. As they approached the pub, John reached out to her wrist and tugged it towards him, frowning deeply at the sight of the building.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked as the redhead escaped his grip and raised her finger in front of his face.

"You do not disrespect that pub this way, my mate," she stated with a raised eyebrow. "You Brummies don't have the exclusivity over underground pubs, and no one gets kidnapped in that one, so that's pretty cool."

The redhead opened the front door and held it for her friends to follow her. She walked down the few marches leading to the pub's main room, shouts and laughs escaping into the street until the door closed, securing the noises within the walls. Delilah set foot on the ground and turned towards the counter, where her favourite barman was silently working, his eyes sometimes glancing at the groups scattered around the pub.

Delilah smiled as she walked to the bar, placing her ringed hands on the wooden surface and cleared her throat, motioning for the Shelbys to follow her. The barman lifted his eyes from the glass he had been cleaning and they widened, falling on his long-term friend.

"Oh my! Is that you?" he asked as she excitedly slid behind the counter to wrap her arms around the older man. "I thought you were gone for good!"

"Well, I actually am, we were passing by for business," the woman answered as the man let go of her tiny body. "Please, let me introduce you to my friends Thomas, John and Arthur. Boys, this is Martin, a good friend of mine."

The boys nodded their heads as Martin grabbed her chin between his fingers, tilting it to the side so he could stare at her bloody skin.

"You could use some water, right?" he demanded as she sheepishly smiled. "I'll be right back. You can serve your friends, you know the ropes."

Delilah nodded as he disappeared in the back room, muttering words she wasn't able to catch but were probably cursing her reckless behaviour. She clasped her hands in front of her as she looked back at the trio with a nod.

"Irish whiskey?"

She poured the glasses and placed them in front of her as Thomas dug through his pockets, exiting a bit of money from them. Before he had the chance to put them on the counter, the redhead pushed his hand away with a disapproving shake of the head.

"Drinks on me," she explained as John glanced at a woman making her way through the tables. "John, have fun, my guy. Arthur, have fucking fun, mate."

The two boys left the counter and navigated towards their prey of the night. A sigh escaped Delilah's lips as she poured herself a glass of whiskey, her hands reaching for money in her fur coat and she placed the coins in the fund, closing it quickly. She brought her slightly bloodied fingers to her lip, testing the pain. It was better than it had been a few moments before and she clinked her glass with Tommy's.

"To London, loser," she toasted as she brought the glass to her lips.

"'Loser'?" he repeated after he had swallowed a gulp of liquor.

"You almost took away from me the best moment of my life," Delilah clarified. "Which wasn't when we discovered the Paddie in the back of your car on our way."

"Delilah—"

"I get it," she assured with a slight smile. "It was better dealing with it by yourself. I knew about it anyway, I wish you'd just tell me. But I get it."

Martin appeared behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. The redheaded woman turned her softening gaze towards him and he smiled.

"Everything's ready in the back room," he affirmed.

Delilah nodded and excused herself, walking straight into the back door without looking back. Martin released a sigh when he glanced at the empty glass where the redhead was previously standing. He cursed silently and put the glass away.

"I told her she should stop drinking, but she doesn't listen."

"Does she even listen to anyone?" Thomas wondered, bringing his glass to his lips.

Martin sighed again and leaned his large palms on the counter, his dark gaze piercing through Thomas's cold orbs.

"She used to," he stated firmly. "Before she went to France, she used to listen. I've never seen her drinking a single glass before she left for the war. She had changed so much."

"What was she like?" he found himself asking, his heart speaking faster than his brain.

A sweet smile worked its way on Martin's lips as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand, instantly less intimidating than when he was standing straight. His dark eyes narrowed as memories played in his mind.

"She was like everyone," he stated. "She was smiling so much more. Her, Milo and Angelo were a terrific trio, always messing around, running bloody circles around at every bloody hour of the day. She laughed, too. She used to sing and to dance when there was music in the pub. She was talking to everyone, and she was sober all day long. She was our sunshine. She still is, in a different way, though."

Delilah walked out of the back room with her hand wrapped in a cloth, her face clean from the dried blood that had lingered on her soft features. She sighed as she joined Martin's side, a hand placed on his shoulder softly.

"Enough stories for tonight, alright?" she said with a smile, looking for her glass around the counter.

"We need to pass the time, don't we?" Martin asked with a laugh, reluctantly putting the glass back in front of her.

"The night is still young," Delilah assured while pouring some more amber liquid in the translucent glass. "We'll have plenty of time for other stories if we want to."

The truth was, Delilah wasn't able to hear people tell this kind of stories about her. Firstly because they were so far away from who she was at the moment she just felt discredited and weak when her changes were related to the war. Secondly, she missed this part of herself too much to be reminded of its even tiniest existence by people who had known her before she had fallen apart completely.

She could see it in Tommy's eyes, that it had been just the same for him. Polly had told her a few stories about pre-war Thomas Shelby, and at first, she couldn't bring herself to believe what she had heard from his aunt. That smile that was never showing anymore, the laughs no one had heard in almost two years, the happiness they had all desperately tried to find in his cold cerulean orbs — but could only spot its complete absence. 

But now that her own story had been told, she believed it. Thomas Shelby, as he had proven so many times in the past, could be just like her in another way. 

The more she learned to know him, the more she was scared to discover that they were just an identical replica of each other. She pushed the thought away from her brain as she raised her glass towards a smirking Arthur, her heart beating faster when Tommy's eyes shined with amusement at her gesture. 

Italian words: 

è passato troppo tempo = it's been too long

E cosi = is that so?