IT WAS EARLY IN THE MORNING WHEN DELILAH OPENED HER EYES, HEARING KNOCKS RESONATE THROUGH THE HOUSE COMING FROM THE FRONT DOOR. The redhead grunted and stood up, sliding a pink robe on and walked down the stairs. Right before her feet touched the wooden ground, she stumbled upon a sleeping body on the floor, a grunt escaping the person's throat as she walked over him without a second thought. She rushed to the door and swung it open, revealing Thomas and John standing behind it.

"Tell me you have a good reason to wake me up this early," the woman pleaded, raising a red eyebrow at the men. "Because if you don't, I will have to murder you right now."

"We are visiting our brothers in prison," John announced, entering the house without even asking permission and snorting when his eyes fell on Milo's silhouette down the staircase, peacefully sleeping. "Is that Milo?"

"What's left of him," Delilah chuckled as she closed the door behind Thomas, the jet-black-haired man kissing her cheek fondly on his way in, "we drank a little too much last night and, well, let's just say he couldn't handle how much he took."

"The good news is that he hasn't been taken by the police as well," Tommy reasoned, placing his hand in the little of the redhead's back.

Indeed, Milo had escaped the police by leaving town for a day and driving to London to see his mother. Apparently, the woman was dying and had been for a while — not that Milo would know about that, considering that he had never been a family guy. He was used to being left out of his family, being a gangster binging nothing but his mother's disapproval — something the man couldn't live with. And so, he had decided to diminish their contacts to almost nothing, calling them once in a while and visiting for funerals and marriages.

"Yeah, he's been away visiting his dying mother," Delilah shortly explained, the Shelby brothers exchanging a look. "He doesn't mind, though. He just had to be there to prove that he's still a good son."

"That sounds more like him," John chuckled, approaching the kitchen table and sitting down. "What're you waiting for? Get ready already, I'm bloody waiting on you!"

Delilah rolled her eyes but complied, running up the stairs with Thomas following closely. Once in the safety of her bedroom, she opened her wardrobe while Tommy sat down on her bed, memories of their passionate nights haunting his mind when he ran his fingers on the still warm sheets. The redhead took a yellow dress out, one that would make her seem innocent enough for a prison guard to trust her, and she hummed as she let her robe slide over her shoulders, the silky piece of clothing landing on the floor.

"So, what are you going to do today?" the woman asked, taking off her nightgown with a yawn, Tommy's eyes glued to her naked body until she grabbed some underwear from a drawer.

"I don't know yet," the man sighed, watching her get dressed and grab a hairbrush from her vanity. "But after you visited your brother, we could do something together. We still have a lot to plan out."

Delilah brushed her straight strands of hair carefully, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "Of course. We should also try and see Polly. I want to know about Michael."

"I don't think she really wants to see us right now," Thomas sighed, running his left hand down his face.

Delilah placed her hairbrush down on the vanity, checking herself one more time in the mirror before she walked toward the troubled man, crouching down to be at the same eye level. With a softness that could only be explained by adoration, she brought her own hand to his cheek, letting the back of it run down his burning skin. She could see how exhausted he was, the dark circles under his cerulean eyes only further testifying to the heavy fatigue lingering in his muscles. Slowly, she straightened up and kissed his forehead, his arms wrapping around her waist and hers holding his shoulders lovingly.

"She doesn't have a choice," the woman whispered, "we don't give her one. If she wants to be safe with her son, she has to listen to us. She doesn't know what's going on but we do, and we can protect them, she knows that. She'll come around eventually."

"I know," Thomas responded, lifting his head to stare into her emerald orbs. "It's just, seeing the family being separated that way, even yours. It's not exactly the happiest thing I've ever witnessed."

Delilah laughed, bending down to kiss his lips gently. "You're right about that, but as long as we stick together, nothing can stop us. You're a Shelby, just like your brothers and your aunt, and we are De Lucas. We'll only get stronger from the hardships thrown our way. We're smarter than them, and powerful together, bonded. That's so much more than what they are."

The dark-haired man stood up from the bed, towering over the redheaded woman and he viciously slammed his lips against her, once again realizing just how soothing she was to him. How could he be relying so much on a woman he felt he didn't even know that much? It wasn't surprising, after everything they had been through together and how she had stuck by his side despite the challenges they had had to face. But never once did they turn their back on each other, always remaining side by side and fighting together, hand in hand.

Thomas feared he was starting to lose himself in the deep love he was feeling for the angel Delilah De Luca was.

"Fuck it," John growled from downstairs, opening the front door swiftly. "Della, I'm fucking leaving without you!"

"Wait for me, I'm coming right now!" she yelled back, John sighing as he lingered by the front door. "I think I need to go before your brother abandons me. Where do you want me to meet you when we're done?"

Thomas hummed as he thought about an answer — truth was, he had no idea where he would be when the two would come back. "Probably at my office. If not, then at the house."

"Right," Delilah agreed, kissing him one more time before she would detach from him, grabbing a black coat that smelled just like her lover and throwing it on, running down the stairs. "See, you didn't need to yell that loudly."

"You know what? One day, I'm gonna shoot you right between those eyes," the youngest Shelby brother swore, opening the door wider for the woman to step out when she had slid her feet into a pair of white high heels. "Let's fucking go, now!"

She climbed into the shiny Bugatti, sighing when John purposefully avoided her gaze. With a playful grin, she nudged his ribs and if at first the man only groaned, he finally cracked a smile as she reiterated the action. He nudged her back and stared at the road ahead until they reached the city jail, John parking the Bugatti carefully because "Tommy would never forgive him if he ever damaged any of their cars". With a snort, Delilah gave him a minute of peace until the car was perfectly on the side of the road, not bothering anyone that would drive by but close enough to the jail so they wouldn't have to walk half a mile to reach their destination.

"After you," John politely said when they walked through the open entrance, a prison guard stopping them at the meeting point with a strong voice.

"Put your arms up," the guard commanded as Delilah stopped before him, the man soon running his hands all over her body in case she would be hiding a weapon somewhere.

John snorted behind her before it was his turn, the redhead rolling her eyes at his mockery. The man spent a little more time checking him than he did her, perhaps because she was a woman and he technically could be sued if he had dared to put his hands in the wrong place, or maybe it was just the men's wariness towards the Shelby brothers. Which was understandable, to an extent. After all, Arthur Shelby was currently rotting in this jail.

Delilah snorted when the prison guard took off John's peaky hat, the man running a hand through his short hair to put it in a way he would like. Not a second later, a tiny door opened, and Arthur and Angelo stepped in the open air, followed closely by a guard.

"Here he is," John smiled, his eyes sparkling with excitement when he saw his older brother, "the Kind of London town."

Delilah chuckled when Arthur launched himself towards the guard while her brother patiently waited for him to step away, finally walking towards his sister when he was allowed to. He stopped before her, the redhead completely ignoring the Shelby brothers' reunion as she wrapped her arms around her older brother, Angelo awkwardly kissing the top of her head. When she pulled away, she noticed a few bruises and cuts scattered around his otherwise handsome face, though she could see that he was more than tired by his drawn features. He seemed drained, and even the loving smile on his lips couldn't erase the trace of his exhaustion from her view.

"How do they treat you?" she asked quietly, worry wrinkling her nose.

"As good as they can in a prison, sorella," Angelo responded with a scoff, glancing at Arthur beside him, "though they're not too pleasant, I'll admit."

"Yeah, I imagine," the redhead laughed, placing her hand on her brother's forearm. "Listen, I need you to believe me when I say that you won't stay in prison much longer. We've been outsmarted, and I know that it is my fault and you'll have a damn good vacation as an apology, but in the meantime, you have to trust me."

Angelo scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "Isn't it what I always do, eh?"

"I need you to give me a little more time and you'll be out," Delilah insisted, squeezing his arm when John stared at her beside him, already being done with his own brother. "At least you have Arthur for moral support. Keep your head high, and please, keep your faith in me."

"I will," Angelo promised.

Not ten minutes later, when Delilah and John exited the prison establishment, the redhead turned towards the blue-eyed man, raising a red eyebrow at him. Of course, she knew where he would have to be now that they were done with their meeting — London, taking care of Henry Russel, as Thomas had commanded. All the while she would be safely planning the remaining of their business from afar, just as Tommy had requested. Apparently, she couldn't get involved with John, though she would instead bomb a house than boringly plan out for a whole day.

"Dropping me off?" she asked, John snorting with a sigh.

"Asked so politely, of course," the Shelby man responded, and Delilah was forced to laugh with him.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

In the end, Delilah learned that Thomas had gone away to visit May and his racehorse, which she didn't know the name of just yet. To say that she was excited for Epsom would be a lie; to say that she wasn't disappointed that her lover had decided to do something else of his day than to spend it beside her would be the biggest of them all.

It was Lizzie who told her that the man had departed shortly before, right when she would walk into the betting shop and head to his office.

"Thomas left," the brunette spoke as Delilah stopped by the secretary's desk, reading the newspaper that had been discarded on her bureau. "He told me to tell you that he went to visit May Carlton, the trainer. And that he wouldn't be back until a couple of hours."

"Right," Delilah sighed, running a hand down her face. "His office isn't locked, is it?"

"He doesn't lock it very often, to be honest," Lizzie chuckled, lifting her eyes to meet the redhead's exhausted gaze.

Delilah nodded, letting her eyes wander the betting shop for any sign of customers. "Fancy a drink?"

The brunette nodded and stood up from her seat, Delilah leading her inside Tommy's office. With his bedroom, it was the place she felt the closest to him; it resembled him, in a way. With papers scattered around the desk without care, showing how messy he could be at times, the scent of leather and cigarettes lingering in the air, and the bottle of ambered whiskey right next to the many documents and files on the wooden bureau, she felt like a part of him had lingered here just a little longer. Enough for her to embrace his warmth until he would come back.

Lizzie sat down on the other side of the desk once the redhead had poured them two glasses of whiskey, a cigarette burning at the corner of her lips. She placed one of the two glasses in front of Lizzie with a tiny smile and sat down on Tommy's comfortable desk chair, her tired body sinking into the stretching leather and her right hand picking up the cigarette from her lips.

"Maybe it's not my place to ask, and it'll be totally justified for you to tell me to fuck off," Lizzie started, breaking the heavy silence between the two women, "but are you okay? You don't look so good these days. I haven't talked to your brother in a few days but the last time I did, he told me he was worried about you."

"So I've been told," the redhead sighed, running her hand down her face while tapping her cigarette ash into the ashtray with the other.

"Working for Thomas Shelby means I have to be outside of this office when he's having meetings inside," Lizzie carried on. "And I don't mean to, but I sometimes end up eavesdropping. I've heard that business has been difficult lately, and —"

"I'm not allowed to discuss business matters with you, Lizzie," Delilah cut her off, crushing her cigarette butt into the ashtray. "I've just been thinking a lot and it kept me up at night. Multiple times."

Lizzie hummed, taking a sip of her whiskey. "Where's your brother, then? 'Cause I've also been worried about him too."

There it was, the one million dollars question. Delilah didn't even know if she was allowed to talk about Angelo's whereabouts with Lizzie, but she figured she could at least give her a clue. Without spilling the beans about the whole situation, she could at least tell her something to deal with. Lizzie had been too sweet with her brother and vice versa, she just couldn't leave her in the total dark.

"Away," the redhead simply responded with a shrug. "He had an altercation and had to get away for a few days. I know he will be back soon, soon enough for you not to miss him too much at least."

The brunette blushed as the redhead let the liquor linger on her tongue for a moment, her throat burning when she swallowed it. She ignored the slight pain and simply put her glass down, her heart sinking in the pit of her stomach when she heard someone entering the betting shop. With a sigh, Lizzie stood up with her glass in hand and walked towards the entrance of Tommy's office, raising a dark eyebrow when her boss appeared at her desk.

"I didn't expect to find you inside my office, Lizzie," Thomas started, his eyes staring at the papers scattered around the secretary's office.

"Actually, Delilah offered me a drink," the brunette was quick to explain, swallowing the remaining alcohol in her glass in one gulp and slamming it on her bureau. "How come you went back so early?"

Thomas glanced at the redhead comfortably settled in his office chair, a glass of whiskey in hand and a lit cigarette in the other. "May just told me the horse was doing good. I just need a minute to park the car and I'll be right back, alright?"

The brunette nodded, diverting her eyes in the other woman's direction. Delilah was still sipping on her whiskey, her hands trembling slightly and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. It seemed that she had once again drifted in her own head, her thoughts eating her attention away. Before Lizzie could add anything else and drag the redhead away from her reverie, the door of the betting shop opened again, this time not on Thomas Shelby but on a man Lizzie had trouble recognizing until it stroke her — Chester Campbell. She had met him before when Thomas had had a meeting with him in the same office.

It was the sound of a cane hitting the hardwood floor that seemed to break Delilah's daydreaming, the redhead immediately reporting her eyes towards the ageing man making his way through the betting shop. The reminder only of the bullet penetrating his flesh and making such a considerable amount of damage that the man would never be able to walk properly again made her smirk, and she straightened up in the leather seat, waiting for Lizzie to guide the man into Tommy's office.

"Mr Shelby's just parking the car," Lizzie indicated, walking ahead of Chester Campbell until she stepped into the office, an eyebrow raised at Delilah.

"Isn't this impressive?" Chester exclaimed, gesturing towards the office where he noticed the redhead comfortably settled behind the desk. "Well, well, well. I didn't expect to see ye there."

"Good afternoon to you too, Mr Campbell," the redhead greeted with a scoff, placing her now empty glass of liquor down on the wooden surface of the desk. "I would say that it is a pleasure to see you again, but I guess I would be lying to myself in that way."

Campbell snorted, Lizzie lingering by the door as if wanting to ask something. "That wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

The secretary seemed to give up and she closed the door behind her, hoping for the best. Chester walked towards the desk, sitting down on a chair as the redhead's calculating eyes settled on the man's movements — unnatural, ungraceful, really everything the woman had always despised.

"Actually, yes, it would be the first time, Mr Campbell," Delilah denied, "I'm not the lying kind. But I guess you've been used to it, considering who you've been working with." That was a low blow, but one that brought hurt into the man's eyes.

"I was hoping to see Mr Shelby alone," the greying-haired man said, raising his eyebrows at the redhead as if trying to be impressive.

"Unfortunately, whenever you see Tommy, you have to see me too," the redhead retorted with a sickeningly sweet smile upon her lips. "You see, we're also business partners."

The office door swung open and Delilah's eyes fell on Thomas's silhouette. Even from this distance, Thomas recognized the hardened look she sent his way — Campbell's visit certainly wasn't what she had anticipated for that day.

"How is your company treasurer, Polly?" Chester asked as Thomas made his way behind the desk, placing a cigarette between his lips and one of his hands on Delilah's shoulder.

"Why do you ask?" Thomas demanded, striking a match and lighting up the end of the cancer stick.

"Just send her my regards," Chester inquired, making the redhead's blood boil in her veins. Perhaps Thomas didn't get the secret behind Campbell's words right away, but she certainly did. To say that she didn't like this would be an understatement. "You like to play with fire, don't you, Mr Shelby?"

Campbell stood up from his seat, not without a few difficulties that made the redhead look away in fear that she would mock him right then and there. Thomas raised his eyebrow as Chester stared at him, the jet-black-haired man straightening up slightly beside her. She could feel the tension thickening in the room, bringing a smirk to her lips.

"Yesterday in Belgravia, Field Marshal Russel's house was burnt out," Campbell started, his moustache moving with every word and succeeding in distracting the woman for a few seconds. "An incendiary device was put through his letterbox, which means that he will have to find somewhere else to live for at least the next three months."

Thomas hummed as Delilah sighed beside him. "What a shame," she spoke, sharing a glance with Thomas.

"Which also means that your plan, for me to break in and shoot him in his bed, is now no longer an operational possibility."

"But if you think a wee burn frees you from your obligations, think again —"

"I will keep my side of the bargain."

On the other side of the arguing match, Delilah seemed to be fascinated, unable to take her eyes off of her man. God, he was good. Maybe not better than her, but good enough for her to be truly impressed by his cold-blooded responses, ones she would have had great difficulty pronouncing at his place. Hell, she felt like she could interfere at any moment and shoot Campbell right then and there if given the opportunity. She was impulsive in that way. Instead, she ran her hand through her glossy strands of hair, Campbell's eyes leaving Tommy's face for a moment to follow the gracious movements.

"Oh, by God, you will."

"I will shoot your field marshal, but I will do it in a way that serves my purpose," Thomas assured, a satisfied grin blossoming on his lips.

"The only purpose is my purpose," Campbell argued, his response bringing a chuckle through the redhead's throat.

"I will carry out your assassination at a place of my choosing," Thomas affirmed, not backing down in front of the Major.

Sucking in a deep breath, Campbell took a threatening step forward. Well, as threatening as a man with a cane could actually be — Delilah really needed to be less confident and to start taking people seriously. But to be honest, it was hard to take him seriously when she had shot him three years prior and the Major still hadn't been able to recover from the injury. Maybe she would also have to work on her overwhelming pride, one of these days.

"Listen to me. All operational detail must be mutually agreed —"

"I'm a soldier. I've experience. I will determine where and when he —"

"Now that man has 24-hour armed police protection —"

"Your plan was full of holes —"

It was hard to focus when they were constantly cutting each other off, Delilah had to admit. Not that she had much to say in the altercation for the moment anyway.

"My plan was mutually agreed!" Campbell exclaimed, his voice rising and making the redhead sigh.

"Well, now your plan is up in smoke!" Thomas affirmed, matching the Major's tone and shutting him up. "And I have formulated the only viable alternative."

"Oh, for God's sake, what do you mean?" Campbell asked, visibly confused and unsatisfied by Tommy's response. "How would you get to him?"

"Now, since you two are unable to maintain a viable conversation without cutting each other off every second, allow me to chime in," Delilah requested, earning a nod from Thomas. "He doesn't need to get to him, Mr Campbell. Field Marshal Russel will actually come to him. And when I say to him, I really mean to us."

Campbell sucked in a deep breath, reporting his eyes on Thomas. He didn't like the redhead's condescending tone, and neither did he like how she always found a way to take a part in his business. How could he eradicate her in the future would actually be one of his main concerns when this business would be done.

"Now, listen to me, Mr Shelby," Campbell asked, the redhead scoffing upon hearing the whole sentence. "When this meeting is concluded, I must report directly to Mr Winston Churchill."

"Your relationship with Mr Churchill is not my concern."

"And Mr Winston Churchill will need to hear detail," Campbell insisted.

"Well, you tell him he'll have to trust me," Thomas confidently replied, as if he wasn't talking about the Prime Minister. "Look, Mr Campbell. I will carry out my mission."

"Good," Campbell stated, sparing a glance at the redhead.

There was something in the older man's grey eyes that Delilah despised more than anything. It was the traitor she knew very well that he was, the way he would never hesitate to betray his closest associate in order for him to have what he wanted. She had never been one to like traitors, and the man's snaky face was only adding to her deep hatred towards him.

"But I will do it in a place where it will be impossible for you or your men to have me shot afterwards," Thomas assured, tapping the ash of his cigarette in the ashtray. "Because that was the plan, eh? Coppers front and back. No way out. Me shot dead, dumped in the Thames. I will do the killing, but at a place where that will not be an option. I've recently become a racehorse owner, Mr Campbell."

"That's right," Delilah confirmed, feeling left out of the conversation since all she had been doing was listening.

"When and where?" Campbell demanded, visibly annoyed with this conversation and eager to leave Tommy's office.

Thomas shared a glance with the redhead, a small smile forming on his lips before he turned back towards Chester Campbell, the glimmer of satisfaction and pride shining in his ocean eyes. "Epsom. Derby Day."

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

In the Garrison, Delilah was quietly sipping on a glass of whiskey, Thomas sitting beside her while Milo and John had settled themselves on wooden chairs, on the other side of the table. John raised an eyebrow when the redhead placed her now empty glass on the table, leaning her head on her crossed arms on the polished surface, Tommy's hand tracing soothing circles on her back.

"We should be partying," John remarked, earning a scoff from the Italian man beside him. "What are you laughing about, cockney?"

"First of all, don't use that word," Delilah replied, glaring daggers towards the man she could safely consider her Birmingham best friend.

"Second, don't you think there are some people missing around this table for us to be throwing a party?" Milo remarked, raising a dark eyebrow at the Shelby man. "Fucking imbecille."

The redhead sighed, straightening up only to lean against Thomas, the smell of his coat floating into her nostrils and intoxicating her more than any liquored bottle could. John exhaled loudly, bringing his glass to his lips and nodding in agreement. He could never forget his brother's absence when he couldn't truly let his childish and innocent side around Tommy — not that his older brother would mind, he could actually use the careless attitude for a little while. It just wasn't the same without Arthur around, the oldest brother always following his crazy ideas and making up new ways to wreak havoc with him.

John and Arthur were close in a way no one could truly understand, each of the Shelby brothers creating a different relationship with the other. Thomas always felt like the outcast of his family, being the one taking charge and being the reprehensive and authoritative one; his brothers loved him all the same, they just didn't feel like they could bond the same way with serious, stern, calculation Thomas. It wasn't their fault; you could barely approach the people you admired, and the two brothers were stuck as mere admirers of their brother.

"Still, we could party a little," John affirmed, slamming his glass against the table.

"Yeah, right," the redhead scoffed, moving from Tommy's comfortable shoulder and tightening his thick coat around her body.

"What?" the Shelby brother asked, obviously clueless as to why Delilah was so adamant about avoiding any kind of celebration.

"Because, you fuckin' asshole, my brother's in jail," the redhead snapped, her eyes darkening in less than a heartbeat. "And, may I remind you, that your older brother's risking being hung at any minute."

John rolled his eyes as she lit up a cigarette at the corner of her mouth. "You already know everything's taken care of, why are you still so worried, for fuck's sake?"

"What I don't get is why aren't you?" the redhead shot back, though he knew he was kind of right.

She had helped elaborate their escape, but still, she couldn't get the thought of them getting hurt or one of Sabini's men getting to him before they could first. She couldn't help it; Angelo was everything to her. She couldn't bear the idea of losing him, not now, not ever.

"Cause I know what the fuck is going to happen, right?" John retorted, matching her harsh tone as well as he could — he was doing a great job, if she hadn't known John better, she would have been scared of him. "And you know that even better than me, so what's the bloody matter?"

"Of course, you wouldn't understand," Delilah bitterly chuckled, slamming her right hand on the table while standing up. "I need to get a drink."

With a scoff, John stared as she exited the snug, not hesitating to slam the door behind her for good measure. Milo glared at the blue-eyed man on his left while Thomas simply sighed, lighting up a cigarette he knew he truly only needed for stress-relief purposes — not that he was worried about Arthur either, he knew it would all fall into place and they would be able to be reunited sooner than later. No, he was concerned about his redheaded sweetheart, the only one he seemed to care about these days. Day after day, he had to see her falling to pieces right between his hands, trying to squeeze her as softly as he could so she wouldn't end up like a broken mirror at his feet.

The more he thought about it, the more Thomas realized that she had been distancing herself from everyone lately. Since they had visited their brothers, almost a week ago, she had been locked in her bedroom more often than not, reading books she already knew by heart or staring at the ceiling, muttering under her breath. She hadn't spent much time with Thomas, whether this time being daytime or nighttime, though from what Milo had told him after two sleepovers during which she had had so much to drink he had believed she would end up alcohol poisoning, her nights hadn't been what they could describe as peaceful either. Milo had even recalled the second night, during which he had been woken up from the couch downstairs by Delilah's high-pitched screams upstairs, having to almost kick down the door in order to wake her up as softly as he could.

"What's gotten into her? God," John sighed, checking over his shoulder just in case she would come back quicker than he would've thought.

"You can't exactly blame her," Milo scoffed, earning himself a glare from the Shelby man. "She's, like, super close to her brother, you know that. Why are you accusing her like that? She misses him."

"Yeah, well, we miss our brother too," the blond man replied viciously, his eyes narrowing into slits, "but we're not using that as a reason to be a pain the ass."

The snug door closed once Delilah had entered the little room, placing a bottle of whiskey on the table and serving herself a drink, sitting back down beside Thomas. She sniffled, picking up a cigarette from her box and nervously replacing a strand of hair behind her ear, taking her sweet time enjoying a sip of whiskey and lighting up her cigarette.

"You want to know something, Johnny?" she asked, not leaving him enough time to respond in case he would simply say 'no' and she would be backed in a corner. "The last time I've ever been separated from my brother was when he left for the war. Since then, we haven't spent a whole day apart from each other, unless he would be accompanied by someone I could trust. He has no one in a prison cell besides himself, and his subconscious certainly is the part of him I will never trust."

Silence fell upon the group as she took a drag of her cigarette, staring at John's slowly falling face. She hadn't planned on spilling the beans about her brother and the creeping fear she would feel every time he would be away from her, especially after what he had been through — and since his suicide attempt, which she had never forgotten about and still had nightmares of from time to time.

"So, you can say whatever you want, that I don't believe in myself if I'm still worried about him," the redhead strongly affirmed, the Shelby man's ocean eyes shining with sadness. "I don't care. I know why I'm worried about him, and if you don't feel the need to worry about your brother, good for you. Just let me do my thing in peace. And if you want to party, that's fine. I'm exhausted anyway, I'm going to go back to my house."

She swallowed her alcohol in one gulp, kissing Tommy's cheek softly and waving at her two other friends before she stepped out of the snug for good, calling it a night. With one glance toward the two men across from him, Thomas took a deep breath and decided to let her go, just this once. Not for long though.

Because apparently, even if hours had passed and he had drank way too much to be standing in the middle of the street, right under her lit window and under the pouring rain, ready to burst through the door without a warning. At the last moment, Thomas decided against it and walked towards the door instead, raising his fist to knock on the hardwood softly. He waited for a few moments before the front door opened, Delilah rubbing her eyes and wearing the same pink robe she always wore when she would wake up. With a yawn, she opened the door wider just so he could step in, locking it right behind him.

As Tommy stumbled into the living room, throwing his drenched coat on the back of the couch. Delilah crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at the man when he turned around, opening his mouth and trying to focus enough so his brain could form actual words that his mouth could speak.

"Tom, you're drunk," the redhead sighed, placing her hand on her pale forehead and lifting her eyes to the ceiling, "and I'm exhausted, so what are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"I need to talk to you," he slurred, his cerulean eyes searching hers — but she was avoiding his burning stare, one she wasn't sure she could handle anyway.

"Can't this wait until tomorrow? I truly can't handle a conversation right now," Delilah assured, glancing at him and turning the living room light off. "And by the looks of it, neither can you."

Thomas scoffed but didn't add anything, simply shaking his head. What struck him the most was the silence weighing inside of the usually lively house, with Delilah and Angelo unceasing getting back at each other and arguing in every room, ending up making up in the peaceful amusement they would find around a shared bottle of liquor. Now that she was alone in the home, it felt like ghosts were waiting to catch them in every corner, the dark barely concealing them in the boundary of the shadows. Delilah had undoubtedly been caught already, her eyes sparkling with water every time she glanced around the house, sniffling behind her hand when she thought no one was paying attention and trying to contain her burning wrath by drinking too much, the only way she could make her hands stop shaking uncontrollably.

It was a wonder that she still tried to shy away from her feelings when Thomas was around as if he didn't know her enough to notice all the details, even the tiniest. He could see it in her eyes, he could feel it whenever she would enter a room, even in her posture. Everything in Delilah seemed to be falling apart, and he couldn't let that happen. Not when he was so close to her, not when he was trying his best to piece her back together and keeping himself sane in the process. If he couldn't take care of her, then who would?

"Stop," he commanded, making the redhead raise an eyebrow. "Stop it, right now."

"I'm not doing anything," the woman replied, running her hand through her tangled strands of hair, the glossy waves falling back on her back and around her shoulders.

"No, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Tommy said, his stubborn nature suddenly showing up. "Stop pretending that you're doing okay when you're not."

Delilah chuckled, rolling her eyes at the man as if he was the dumbest of them all. "For the record, I haven't been hiding it, Tom. Even fucking Lizzie told me I looked exhausted these days, so I think you could say I am doing a bad job at hiding it if I'm trying. So what's the problem?"

"Talk to me," the dark-haired man demanded, for the third time since the beginning of their relationship, "how come every time you don't feel utterly overjoyed, you shut me out?"

Delilah sighed, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Thomas was right, of course, but he couldn't understand what had happened between the siblings for them to be so close to each other. He could in the way that he had siblings of his own, except that the De Luca were so tight-knitted that he sometimes even had trouble understanding the boundaries of their relationship. Just like the day Angelo had jumped the bridge, only for his younger sister to follow right after him and let her body sink into the dangerous and deadly waters of the Cut. He would gladly take the place of any of his family members if they were dying; just sometimes, it was amazing to see what everyone thought they could be doing at someone's place happen before their eyes, disrupting the way people were thinking and making them reconsider their values.

"I don't shut you out," the redhead denied, figuring that it would be easier explaining to him the situation in a way that wouldn't hurt him. "What do you want me to say, exactly? Can't you see everything that you want to see on my face? Or maybe Milo told you what our sleepover resembled when he stayed over the other night? What else am I supposed to talk about?"

"Well, explain to me what's on your mind, perhaps? For starters," Thomas responded, his tone increasing in volume slightly as he saw the redhead smile in the darkness. "What's so funny, for fuck's sake?"

"It's funny that you, of all people, blame me for hiding things from you when you've kept the whole Russel business a secret for months, when we're business partners and supposed to work together," Delilah exposed, her head tilting on the right when Thomas only scoffed. "Care to explain that?"

"You're just turning the tables so that you won't have to face how you're keeping everything to yourself," the dark-haired male affirmed, ignoring the woman when she huffed. "Now, about Russel, I was threatened, me and my family, and you too, for the record. I couldn't risk any of your safeties to talk to you about that, that seemed unimportant at the time if you weren't under some crazy old man's death threats. And you can hold a grudge over that for as long as you please, it doesn't change anything about the current situation."

Delilah was unable to utter a word. He was right, and she had been the one insisting on them being honest towards each other. Funnily enough, she was also not keeping her promise and hiding her feelings from him, even though she wanted more than anything in the world to open up to him. She felt like she couldn't, though, when she stared into his cold, calculating eyes; when did she become so soft? How come the dangerous gangster she had once been having turned into a teary-eyed, scared little girl again?

"I know that you're right, again," the redhead sighed, running her hand down her face. "I know I tend to shut down when I'm upset, I know about all of it, alright? I just want some peace in all this chaos but I don't know what to do."

Thomas stared at her teary eyes when she pulled her hand away from her angelic face. "I'm probably the last person you'd expect to say this, but you can talk to me, about anything."

"I don't want to talk anymore," Delilah admitted, shrugging her shoulders and glancing at the staircase behind her. "I just need something to take my mind off of things, I've been busying myself with business, alcohol, parties, everything. I don't want this anymore, Tom."

Thomas stepped towards her, quick to wrap his strong arms around her frail shoulders. The redhead soon pulled him closer to her, holding him tighter than she had ever dared. She didn't feel like she wanted them to make everything go away with sex, she just needed him with her. The only man who had ever succeeded in taking the bad thoughts away, the only one who could make her want to live even through the most horrible things she would ever go through.

"All right," the man spoke in her ear, kicking his shoes off and sliding his hand in hers. "Let's just go to bed."

The redhead nodded and followed him upstairs and into her bedroom. Into the warm room, where it smelled like peaches and roses, her favourite fragrance, the woman slid her body on the mattress and under the warm covers, Thomas blowing out the candle lighting up the little room and undressing so he could sleep comfortably. Once he was done and the noises of the clothes landing softly on the wooden ground, Thomas settled himself beside her, the tiny redhead soon wrapping an arm around his torso and settling her troubled head on his chest.

The movements of his chest going up and down while he breathed made her feel at ease, thankful that he was alive and not behind bars or worse, laying in a ditch with his burning skin now turned cold. He held her closer to his side, releasing a heavy breath of satisfaction when her lips grazed over the Romani sun tattooed on his chest. She closed her eyes and, suddenly, it felt like the ghosts outstretching their rotten hands towards her had hidden in the shadows, far away from her body and banned from her mind. Her hand ran up and down the male's ribs, making him shiver under her touch. Soft giggles escaped her mouth when she realized how sensitive he was to her touch.

"What's so funny?" he asked, his deep voice barely concealed in a whisper.

"Nothing," she responded, her silky tone lingering in the air, "just you."

"What did I do?" he asked, chuckling slightly.

Delilah lifted his eyes towards his face, one she could barely see in the darkness but could picture with its details in her mind. "You exist, and that is more than enough to me."

Thomas's lips parted as she smiled, bending over slightly so he could kiss her forehead tenderly. "Careful or I'll believe you are falling in love."

"Who said that I wasn't?"

And while she had drifted off to sleep beside him, her hands sometimes clutching his shoulders when she would be disturbed in the middle of her dreams, Tommy would sometimes check that she was still breathing. He found himself wondering what he would do if she ever found herself where her brother had gone instead of beside him in her warm bed, with her limbs seemingly attached to his as she clung to what she valued the most.

It was in the morning that Thomas felt like his heart had stopped beating when he jolted awake without the redhead by his side, the sheets cold when he placed his hand where she had been laying a few hours before. The sun blinded him when he directed his gaze towards the window, the curtains barely concealing the daylight from his view. In a heartbeat, he had swung his legs over the edge of the bed, merely slipping his button-up shirt on and swiftly walked down the stairs.

"Awake already?" Delilah worriedly asked. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

"No, your absence did," Tommy answered, his morning voice even deeper than his usual one. "What are you doing?"

The redhead turned towards the kitchen counter where a few plates had been discarded. "I wanted to make you breakfast. But you woke up before I could have everything ready for you."

Thomas chuckled as she approached her, placing a calloused hand on her hip as she delicately let hers rest on his forearm. He bent over towards her, dropping a kiss on her lips. But before Delilah could deepen their kiss, Thomas pulled away and brought a hand to his mouth, tasting the food she had made for the both of them. With a playful grin, he shook his head and lifted her from the ground, the redhead letting a few giggles past the barrier of her plump lips.

"You are one kind of a woman, miss De Luca," Thomas affirmed, replacing a strand of her hair behind her ear gently.

"I know," the redhead responded with a smile, "that must be the reason why you love me so much."

"That amongst other things," Thomas assured.

Delilah laughed and kissed his lips softly, his hand resting on her cheek and pulling her close to him. Yes, Thomas Shelby used to believe that he was falling for Delilah — in reality, he had already fallen a long time ago. She just managed to amaze him day after day.