THEY STAYED IN THE WAITING ROOM FOR HOURS ON END. Every so often, a nurse had come by to give them information about his health, and when he'd been transferred into a room, they'd been informed that they couldn't visit him for the moment. So, they stayed. They kept watch on everything that was happening around them until Polly, John and Arthur stood up to go to their house.

Firstly, John needed to take his kids to school. Secondly, Arthur claimed he wanted a good drink to wash the sleep away from his brain — which could be possible, considering they hadn't slept very well in these metallic seats. And, finally, Polly had obligations towards Finn, who had stayed the night at home under Lizzie's supervision.

That left only Angelo and Delilah. About an hour after the Shelbys had left, Angelo started whining about his bed, and so Delilah sent him home with the mission to drop by Milo's house in case something had also happened to him. Angelo promised he would, and Delilah was alone again.

When she'd first learned about what had happened to Thomas, she'd felt sadness creeping around her chest. But now that he was out of danger — apparently —, all she could sense within her being was anger. A rising, burning rage that made her brain jump out of his daze and start to work again on a plan. And that plan was slowly but surely taking form. By the time a nurse came to find her to tell her she could visit him, Delilah was done thinking about it and was now working out how to make it work.

When she pushed the door open, Delilah's lips parted in an evil smirk and she barely glanced at Thomas as her eyes fell on the wolf cane Mr.Campbell was holding.

"Finally we meet properly, Mr.Campbell," Delilah said, closing the door behind her and stepping forward towards Thomas's hospital bed. "I couldn't be more pleased to see that you're walking again. Because last time, well, not so much."

Chester Campbell clenched his jaw and stepped back from where he was standing above Thomas, his eyes melting with hatred when they landed on her.

"Did they take the bullet out?" she asked then, raising a perfect eyebrow as she placed her hand on her hip. "If they didn't, the shooter must've done a very good job."

"You should watch your mouth," Campbell advised, stepping closer to her as if keeping their exchange confidential. "I saved his life, don't forget that."

"And I spared yours," Delilah retorted, not backing down in front of the man. "You shouldn't forget that either. I'd hate to see you in a wheelchair, Signore Campbell."

She then motioned for the door with her index finger, her eyes glimmering with amusement — this exchange was delightful. Delilah was in a position of power over that man, and she wasn't about to let him forget that. It wasn't her type to let people forget their mistakes, and attacking her had been his first one.

"Do you need someone to hold the door for you or will you be fine on your own?" Delilah couldn't help being a brat. "There are some things I need to discuss with my associate, I'm sure you can understand."

Campbell glanced one last time at Thomas and in a second — well more like a minute —, he was out of the hospital room, the door slamming shut being the only noise signalling his absence. If they didn't count the cane noise, of course.

Delilah moved to the other side of Thomas's bed, where a chair was placed. She sat down beside him and took her courage in both hands before she lifted her eyes slowly to meet his damaged features.

It was worse than what she'd imagined, to say the least.

His cheekbones were bruised, his upper-lip was blown-out and he even had a black eye. His hands were shaking and his knuckles were opened, and a bandage was around his torso, probably because of broken ribs. She couldn't believe that the old man of Sabini could've done that to him, but unfortunately, he probably hadn't been alone when beating Thomas up.

"What happened between the two of you?" Thomas asked, his voice deeper than usual and one of his eyebrows raising slightly with amusement.

"Oh, you know, that's a long story," she responded with a light laugh, before she was sighing and looking down at her joined hands. God, she wasn't even able to look at him now. "Listen, Thomas, I'm sorry for what happened to you. It shouldn't have and I'm sorry I wasn't able to know that he'd come here. I should have known, and for that, I apologize."

Thomas hummed and she brought a cigarette to her lips. As she lit it up, she noticed Thomas's stare on the stick and once she was sure it was lit up, she gave it to him. He sighed when he let the smoke out and she chuckled, lighting up another cigarette for her this time. Delilah ran her pad of the thumb on her lower-lip and cleared her throat, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"I know someone," she finally stated, letting the smoke get out of her mouth in rings. "He's in Camden Town, and he's been working with us for a few years now. Usually, Jewish people and Italian people don't get along but we do. His name is Alfie, Alfie Solomons."

"Aren't you supposed to be linked with Sabini?" Thomas demanded, straightening up slightly with a grunt.

"Well, it's a little bit more complicated," Delilah sighed. "We have contracts with Sabini and Solomons, but we're loyal to only Solomons. We give him information about the Italians' whereabouts, and what they're planning against him. He's paying a lot more and being a lot nicer than Sabini."

"We're lucky Jonh's nice then, eh?"

Delilah chuckled and stood up from her chair. She pushed her hair behind her ear and sucked in a deep breath, still unable to linger on his body. It was like she was guilty for what had happened to him, and somehow, she was. She hadn't been on time, and now that she was thinking about it, she had messed up the same way with her younger brother.

"We can leave for Camden Town whenever you'll be able to walk," Delilah then stated, finally meeting Thomas's eyes.

"Well, I guess we can leave now, then," Thomas responded with a slight smile on his lips.

He swung his legs over his bed, and Delilah immediately turned around seeing that he was simply in his underwear. She cleared her throat and let him shuffle behind her until she felt like he should be ready to leave.

"You can't leave the hospital now, Thomas, that's dangerous," she exclaimed, trying her best to seem convincing. "I'm serious, Thomas, I can't let you leave."

"Since when aren't you the fun one?" Thomas replied with a raised eyebrow. "Listen, you know as well as me that I'll be endangered here too. And I'd rather be everywhere but here, doing business with you and planning revenge."

Delilah sighed defeatedly, there was no point arguing with a Shelby and she had learned that the hard way. Instead of losing their precious time trying to convince him to stay, she wrapped her arm around his waist for support and he gladly placed his strong one around her shoulders. Once he'd checked out of the hospital, they were out in the streets, the wind blowing Delilah's hair away from her face.

It took them basically two hours to reach Charlie Strong's place. It was a harbour with a few boats in the water waiting to be sailed and she could hear the horses agitating behind the stables scattered around the shed. Delilah struggled to keep her arm around Thomas's waist as he almost collapsed against the metallic gate leading into the warehouse. Once Thomas had opened it, he leaned again on Delilah's shoulders and she guided him towards where she thought Charlie would be stationed.

And, indeed, Charlie finally appeared, probably hearing Thomas's laboured breaths. Once he noticed them, Charlie immediately rushed to Thomas's other side and swung his arm over Delilah's, helping her hold him to the chair his mate had put in the middle of the warehouse for Thomas to sit.

"Curly!" Thomas called, and a man with a hat appeared by their side. "Get that oil you put on the legs when they go lame."

Delilah frowned and glanced at Charlie, who was staring at his nephew's face. The only time Delilah had seen Charlie and Curly was when they were to fight together against Kimber's men. She thought she'd seen them at Freddie Thorne's funeral as well, but they hadn't met a lot.

"Are you fucking mad?" Apparently, Delilah wasn't the only one surprised by Thomas's behaviour. But then again, she guessed his family would be used to it. "They said you'd be in for another three weeks."

"At the very least," Delila mumled, earning herself a glare from Thomas.

"We need to get on a boat for London tonight," he quickly explained, outstretching his hand towards what Curly had brought. "I'm a fucking sitting duck in there, Charlie. Sabini could send men at any time, and I need to get things done with her."

Delilah frowned when she noticed the slight layer of sweat covering his forehead. She delicately placed the palm of her hand on his forehead and she winced.

"You're burning up," she whispered, grabbing whatever stuff Curly had given to him. "Maybe you shouldn't take that."

"This stuff's for rubbing into fucking horses," Charlie added to Delilah's horror.

"I am a horse," Thomas argued, desperately trying to take the yellow stuff from her hands.

"If you were a horse, they'd shoot you with this many broken bones."

Delilah snorted and turned towards Curly with a swish of her hips. Curly lifted his sweet dark eyes in her direction and she couldn't help but smile at him.

"Can you please grab me every human medication you have, Curly?"

"And the black powder," Thomas added, and once again, Curly nodded and disappeared in the stables to find what they'd asked for.

Delilah scoffed and as Charlie made a remark about witchcraft or whatever it was them Gypsies were doing, she drifted her eyes towards the calm water of the Cut. Curly appeared again with a first-aid kit filled with medication and everything they'd need for their trip, and that black powder Thomas asked for. In addition, he outstretched a large black coat in her direction that looked similar to the one Thomas was wearing.

She gratefully took it from his grip and swung it around her shoulders, the strong masculine smell lingering in her nostrils. Yeah, it was Thomas's coat.

"Do you have a boat here?" Thomas asked his uncle, trying vainly to stand up from his chair.

"Only the January," Charlie responded. "She's heavy. London will take four days."

Thomas slowly turned around to glance at Delilah, who pursed her lips in contemplation before nodding.

"It'll do," she confirmed, smiling slightly at Charlie.

"Can I spare you Curly?" Thomas then demanded, another tiny smirk forming on his lips. "We need a sailor, don't we?"

Curly nodded excitedly and Charlie agreed with a sigh. Thomas stood up slowly and Curly wrapped his arm around his middle to support him. Delilah went to follow after them but, at the last moment, Charlie Strong grabbed her arm to hold her back. She could see in these ocean orbs every member of the Shelby family shared — even though she seemed to understand that Charlie was Thomas's mother's brother — all the worry he accumulated by seeing his nephew in this state.

But nothing came out of his mouth. Again, she recognized Thomas's personality in Charlie's, this concern hidden behind a cold face and a powerful stare. That apprehension she deciphered in his eyes led her to put her other delicate hand on his thin shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

"I'll take good care of him," she affirmed, her pink lips parting in a sweet smile. "I was a nurse in France, I can handle it. I know what I'm doing."

If Charlie doubted her words, he didn't say anything and let go of her wrist gently. Delilah squeezed his shoulder one more time and spun around to join the two other men already preparing the ship to sail away towards London. Once Thomas was in front of the boat, Delilah turned one last time to glance at Charlie who was already staring at his nephew.

"Come on, Miss De Luca," Curly encouraged her and she noticed that he'd outstretched his hand for her to take.

"Can you please tell my brother I love him?" Delilah asked while staring at Charlie, her red hair flying around her head and her hands slid in the pockets of the coat. "And I'll be back soon, and he doesn't have to kill himself to have my attention, and —"

Before she could carry on, Thomas turned towards her slightly, frowning. She cleared her throat and grabbed Curly's hand harshly, who helped her on the boat. She jumped on the wooden deck and a laugh escaped her lips when her high-heels clicked against the hard ground. Delilah let go of Curly's hand gently and looked at the two men remaining on the cement floor of Charlie's yard.

"Tell Polly she's in charge while I'm away," Thomas asked his uncle before stumbling forward in the boat direction. "If we don't come back, tell her she's in charge for good."

And like that, he was collapsing on the boat in Curly's arms. Delilah frowned with concern when Thomas crawled towards her, his hands clinging on her as if on a lifeline. Delilah waved at Charlie with one hand, the other one occupied since her arm was now hooked around Thomas again, and when he started to disappear, she turned to Curly with a curious glance.

"Where can I take him?" she demanded.

Curly spun on his heels to face her and pointed at a little door on her right. Delilah nodded and the man rushed to open the door for them. Delilah gasped when Thomas almost slipped from her grip in the tight staircase. She tightened her arm around him and walked him to the only bed in the room, instructing Curly to grab the first-aid kit she'd left on the deck.

Once Thomas was laid down on the bed, she realized he was shaking. Delilah remembered the injured soldiers she would take care of in Verdun and Pierre's face flashed in her mind. She forgot about him and placed a blanket she found on a shelf above the bed over Thomas's fevered body.

"There you go, Miss De Luca," Curly said as he gave her the first-aid kit.

"Thanks, Curly," she responded with a gentle smile. "It's Delilah for you, dear."

Curly nodded and exited the room, leaving the door open behind him. Delilah opened the kit and took out some painkillers. As she gave them to him, he frowned and a sigh escaped his lips.

"If you wanna feel better, you better take them," Delilah advised with a laugh. "I'm not trying to poison you."

"This thing is bad," Thomas commented, staring at the pill with a glare. "I don't like that."

"Well, you don't have to like it," Delilah argued. "On the other hand, you'll really like to feel better, so trust me and take this."

Thomas glanced at her and with a light smirk, he reported his eyes on the pill between his fingers. The bruises and cuts on his cheeks and lips made her feel nauseous at the simple idea of him suffering. A shiver ran down her spine but it disappeared once Thomas cleared his throat to catch her attention again.

"Will you tell me what happened between you and Campbell if I take this?"

Delilah laughed at his question, and Thomas, even if injured, didn't miss the way her nose crinkled and the dimples in her cheeks appeared. Her head went back slightly and her hair almost touched her hips from the ponytail it was in — she had tied it when Thomas had needed to breathe during their trip from the hospital and her hair had started to stick to her neck unpleasantly.

Seeing her laughing and the sparkle of amusement replacing the worry he'd seen in her green orbs all day made his insides twirl in a way he both loved and hated.

"Yeah, I'll tell you if that's what it takes," Delilah agreed, placing her hands on her hips. "God, you're worse than usual."

"And you're stuck with me for four days," Thomas scoffed before he placed the pill on his tongue and swallowed it dry.

Delilah turned on her heels to grab a chair she could sit on, and once she was comfortably sat at Thomas's bedside, she crossed her legs and tightened the coat around her body. Thomas turned his head towards her, obviously waiting for her to recall what had happened in that train station two years ago, and Delilah giggled again.

"Okay, I'm going to tell you, I surrender," the redheaded woman chuckled. "Damn, what does it take for you to sleep or something?"

"Don't you want to tell one of us what happened between you two?" Thomas demanded genuinely, as if afraid to push her to open up.

"No, it's just that I don't want to remember who I was that night," Delilah whispered before she cleared her throat. "That night, when we were celebrating our victory, Milo came to me and told me Grace Burgess was to take a train to God knows where. I figured Campbell would tag along since, you know, everything. So I just got out of the Garrison and I escaped you all."

Delilah nervously fiddled with the hem of her dress before she lifted her eyes again. And Thomas couldn't help but notice their sudden change; they weren't illuminated by amusement now, only stone-cold and emotionless.

"I saw them together, and I can't explain why, I felt so enraged," she said in a lower tone. "I hated her for betraying you, even though you should've seen that coming by the way, but I couldn't help but remember your eyes that day, when we learned about her true job and everything else. I just remembered the way you seemed so betrayed, hurt and I don't really know why, I just stepped out from the shadows I was hiding in. That's when they saw me as well."

Delilah cut herself and once again lowered her head to stare at her shaking hands. Every time she talked about that night, it was always like this. The only ones who truly knew about what had happened that night were Milo and her mother. She'd told them both because she needed someone to know what she had done and would never forgive herself for — the scar right above her hip would always remind her of the monster she truly was, deep down.

"Campbell was the first one to see me, but Grace was the fastest to react," Delilah finally told him. "Obviously, she felt threatened by me, and rightfully so, since I was holding my gun. I lifted mine and shot Campbell two times, I missed him once and the second one is the reason why he's using a cane right now. As for Grace, I didn't have enough time to shoot her because she shot me first."

Silence lingered between them. Thomas was thinking about her words, the perspective of the redhead ending up dead in a street like she almost did that fateful day was driving him insane. He couldn't even tell why but the idea of living his daily life without her screaming at their brothers, her smile — whether genuine or mocking — illuminating their days, and her brain matching his in its mischief was killing him faster than the injuries scattered around his body.

"You should sleep, now," Delilah finally stated, standing up from her chair and leaving it there. "I'll probably have to wake you up every four hours for the first times you'll take the painkillers. Don't be surprised if I wake you up later. Try to rest, your body needs healing."

Thomas's eyelids dropped slightly with her words, as if he suddenly realized how tired he was. Delilah smiled and walked up the stairs, leaving him by himself for the first few hours of sleep he was to get since they left the hospital. She knew she'd need to visit him more often than every four hours, in case the fever would worsen.

When she exited the room and the wind was sweeping her ponytail in her neck, Delilah sucked in a deep breath, letting her story sink in for the first time since it happened. She'd told two people, and maybe she had to slightly process everything when she recounted them that night, but now that she'd told Thomas, she seemed to realize.

How monstrous she'd seemed. Indeed, she wanted so badly to shoot Grace Burgess that she regretted not being strong enough to shoot her even after she received a bullet in the hip. It was a minor injury and her life hadn't even been endangered. She'd been weak. Weaker than her. And that, she couldn't take.

"Delilah!"

Delilah snapped her head towards the back of the boat, where Curly was pointing excitedly at the sky. A smile was already blossoming on her lips at his childish expression. There truly wasn't a man sweeter than Curly, she knew there wasn't. He was so nice to everyone, so sweet and unable to hurt anyone.

"Look, a shooting star!"

Her eyes turned towards the firmament and she noticed the ball of light travelling through the darkened sky. It reminded her of the playful light Thomas's eyes had contained all day, it seemed. It reminded her of everything she hoped for in her future life, finding a place she would feel like she belonged and a person who'd love her just for who she was.

The broken monster with a lonely soul, unable to feel anything but fear and hatred. And a bit of love, if the souvenir of shooting Grace to avenge Thomas was anything to go by.

"It's wonderful, Curly," Delilah stated before her name was called one more time, from the room downstairs this time.

She carefully walked down the wooden stairs, her high-heels revealing their impractical side at that moment. She pushed her ponytail behind her shoulder and stared at Thomas, discovering that he was already looking at her.

"Yes, Tommy?" she responded quietly, her voice a whisper as she approached the chair one more time.

"I think your painkillers might be truth serum," he said with a light laugh. "But I'd like it if you stayed with me."

And she did stay, keeping an eye on him all night and whispering soothing words whenever he would painfully grunt in his sleep. Holding his injured hand when he silently went through the physical pain of being a gangster.