The moment Claude saw Dorothy in the distance, his back straightened, and he twisted the ignition, alerting Jazz and Mick of their bosses presence as he did so. The latter got out of the car without missing a beat, holding the door open for her.

As Dorothy came within a reasonable distance, Claude opened his mouth, ready to question how it her meeting gone - but shut it sharpish as he saw the expression on her bloodied face. 

Whether it was Blake Holland's blood or her's, he did not know. But he only had a few moments to question whether he should ask before Mick was helping her into the car and closing the door behind her, and she was slumping back, eyes fluttering shut, a hand gravitating towards her collarbones.

As Mick rounded the car and got in the other side, Jazz and Claude twisted around in their seats, peering at their boss warily. They didn't dare say anything until she did, aware that she could react any which way, all depending on what had happened in Blake Holland's office.

Then -

"I need to get out of London," she said flatly to no-one in particular.

-

"I - I don't understand, boss - what happened? What was bad enough to drive you to leave?"

Dorothy was pouring herself some whiskey, the familiar stuff she kept in her office that was far better than the one Blake had provided, her face taut. 

"He's going to go after my sister, Claude." She turned to face her assistant, tumbler in hand, and saw his face drop, his light blue eyes widening.

"Oh, God." He raised a hand slowly to his mouth. "W - why?"

"Because I beat his face in after he threatened both our lives and pinpointed my worst fear. He told me that I'd regret it," she replied, raising the glass to her lips. Her tone was flat, tense. Claude's brow furrowed, and he lowered his hand before taking a step forward.

"You did what?" he said, shocked.

"I know. Do you see my point?" Dorothy muttered with an impatient wave of her hand, and moved around her desk, heading for her chair. "I need to take Lillian away from this city, somewhere up north, where he can't get to us," she said quietly, her eyes flickering. 

Then, she looked up at her assistant, and pointed a slim finger at him. "That girl is my main priority, Claude. She's all I have left, and I'm not going to lose her to some dickhead who thinks he can one-up me."

"Alright, alright." Claude nodded, his voice careful. "We'll get you out of London."

Dorothy sighed, and slumped down into her chair. One of her hands rested on the arm of the chair, and the other held her whiskey up. Her eyes strayed to her desk, barely regarding an anxious Claude who hovered before her.

"I'll have to get Alfie to keep up shop while I'm gone. The men won't listen to anyone else, and I wouldn't trust anyone else to run the place. I'll go ask him tomorrow, put it on my schedule." She flapped a hand towards her agenda on the shelf by the door, and Claude walked across the room to fetch it. 

Then, her tone became wistful. Her hand drifted to her collar again. "I'll go and see some old friends, too. Say hello, then goodbye."

Claude gave her a look under his eyelashes as he walked towards the desk, Dorothy's agenda in hand. He flipped it open, clicked his pen, and began to scribble Dorothy's plans onto the next day.

Dorothy inhaled sharply, and looked up at him. "Then, I'll get Lillian. We'll catch a train as soon as she's ready."

"A train to where, boss?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it swiftly, and took a sip of her whiskey, avoiding Claude's eye.

"Dorothy." Claude placed the agenda down, and planted his hands onto the desk. "A train to where?" He said again, his voice slow and soft.

She sighed, and dragged a hand down her face. "I don't fucking know, Claude."

Her assistant pressed his lips together, and looked down at the floor. 

The room was silent for a moment as Dorothy thought furiously, her hand covering her face. Then, she let it fall to her side, and looked up at Claude. "Get me my mail. I need to focus on something," she demanded tiredly.

Without a word, Claude closed Dorothy's agenda, crossed the office, and disappeared through the door.

For a moment, Dorothy was left with her thoughts. She absent-mindedly traced her collar for the third time that day, pressing down on the cigarette-shaped patch of ruined skin, racking her brains for a place she could take her sister. 

Her first thought was to go back to Russia. Maybe her dyadya Andrei still lived in that house in St. Petersburg where she had spent so much of her childhood, and he could help them find a place to stay. 

But who was she kidding? She may have been wealthy, but she couldn't possibly afford an overseas trip as lengthy as that. 

So, she tried to restrict herself to places in England. Liverpool, Norwich, York, Bristol... they were all within the distance of a drive or train. But none of them appealed to her. She had made enemies in some of those towns, and bad memories in others. 

Claude came back through the door, a handful of envelopes, and Dorothy nodded at him, her eyes fixed on her glass. 

Surely, there was some untainted place she could go to keep her sister safe?

Her assistant reached her desk, and started rattling off who they were from, dropping each onto her desk in turn. "So... bills, taxes, a letter from Russia, several orders for firearms... "

Dorothy set her glass down on her desk, and snatched up the letters, sifting through them lazily. The bills and taxes were all the same as usual. She'd sit down with her bookkeeper later, draw up some accounts of the income, and pay them all off. She smiled as she saw the letter from Russia - it was from her tetka, no doubt wishing her and Lillian well.

"And... this one's blank," Claude finished, setting the final letter down before his boss.

The smile slipped from her face.

She never received blank letters. Even Blake Holland had had the decency to write his name on the front of his invitation to his foundry. 

Taking another swig from her glass, she leaned forward, and dropped the other letters as she picked up the blank one. Turning it over in her hands, she slouched back in her chair, searching for a return address, a post stamp - anything that would give away who it was from.

She found nothing, and swallowed nervously.

It was Martin Salvatore, surely. He had finally recovered from what she had done to him, and was demanding to see her so he could get back at her.

Maybe it was Darby Sabini. That would make more sense. She had practically sabotaged him, and although it had been a few years, he was certainly one to hold a grudge.

She was overreacting. Whoever it was, it probably didn't matter. 

Swallowing harder, she flipped the letter over, and tore the envelope open, taking out the letter inside. 

It simply read:

IT'S TIME TO STOP RUNNING, MERCER.
I'LL CATCH UP TO YOU SOON
ENOUGH.
I'M IN BIRMINGHAM FOR A MONTH.
HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE.

---

Her blood turned frosty in her veins the skin on her neck prickling as a sickly feeling churned in her stomach.

"What does it say?"

Dorothy looked up, her eyes suddenly dark, and held the letter out to her assistant.

His eyes flickered across the page as he read, and after a moment, they widened, and locked onto Dorothy's.

There was silence for a moment as each of them processed what they had just read.

Then, lowering her gaze, Dorothy set the letter down on her desk. 

"Book me two train tickets to Birmingham, Claude."

He nodded too quickly, pressing his thin lips together. "Yes. R - right away. 

He turned to leave, allowing Dorothy to let her facade of calm slip just for a moment, her eyes almost glinting with tears as she re-read the letter, feeling her heart rate increase.

Then, just as Claude reached the door, he paused, and turned on his heel. Dorothy resumed her stony expression, and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there anything else, boss?" He asked, his voice wavering.

She thought for a moment. 

She thought about what Blake Holland had done. He had threatened her life, her sister, and her company. Her company, she would be prepared to lose in the grand scheme of things. Her life, she'd prefer to keep. But, her sister?  Surely he deserved to lose something of his, just for threatening her family. 

Then, she decided - she was leaving London. She had to hurt Blake. 

She may as well do it with a bang. 

"Yes, actually, there is."

"What is it?"

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Take a few men down to Blake's foundry. Bring petrol and a light."