Gianna had stared down the barrel of a gun for the first time when she was sixteen. 

It had been her first year living in New York, and her first year as a member of the Changretta mafioso. She had been on a job with her father and uncles. Negotiations with the enemy had gotten heated, and before she knew it, the latter had drawn his weapon and stuck it between Gia's eyes, screaming about co-operation and spraying the girl's brains on the wall. 

She remembered all sound suddenly dropping out, her vision going haywire. It was just her and the gun, and the mere seconds it would take for him to end her life.

She had been terrified.

But her face gave away no such thing. She remained cool, composed, just as her family had taught her to be.

In the years since, she had had guns pointed at her on countless occasions. Not just on jobs, either; she'd been threatened while on her way to a lecture one morning. So after a while, each instance of it happening started blending together, and the sight began to bore her.

So as she stood at the end of Arthur Shelby's Webley, she found her mouth stretching in a yawn.

That visibly unnerved some of the factory workers around them, while the eldest Shelby's brow furrowed, his gun hand wavering. 

But Tommy Shelby seemed to be rivalling her with his poker face. His eyes were empty, unreadable, and his face hard as stone.

For a moment, nobody in the room moved. 

Then, Gianna slowly raised her hands in false surrender, a close-lipped smile on her face. Just for her own amusement. 

The Shelby ringleader's face still remained stoic. His eyes hadn't budged from her since she had called after him.

The factory workers seemed to hold their breath.

Then, Tommy licked his lips stiffly, and his eyes flickered to the side, breaking his stone-like facade. 

"Back to work, the lot of you." He didn't raise his voice any more than he needed to. The men around them were already paying attention. 

"Go on," Arthur added, still aiming his gun at Gianna. His jaw was clenched, his lips twitching. She stared him down, unwavering.

Slowly at first, then all at once, the workers began to move, conversation swelling back up again as they made their way to their stations and got back to their jobs. Or pretended to, at least. 

Soon enough, the room was back to normal. Just about.

"Gianna... Changretta," Tommy said incredulously. 

She didn't move, save for letting her hands fall to her side.

"What's your mother's name?" the man before her asked suddenly.

Gianna felt her stomach clench.

"It was Mia. Mia Fanucci," she replied. Her voice was cold; she forced it to be so to cover any kind of emotion that threatened to slip out. "She died soon after I was born."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He clearly didn't mean it. "What kind of woman was she?"

She blinked. "Sorry?"

"What kind of woman was she?" he said again, his face stubbornly unforgiving of emotion.

Gianna gave him a questioning look. Arthur Shelby was still pointing his weapon at her. Tommy was stood by his side, barely acknowledging him - a general next to his soldier. 

"She was my mother. What kind of question is that?" she managed to reply. 

He stared down at her for a few moments. Gia felt a sudden chill run up her spine once again as she held eye contact with him.

Do not back down. You are not afraid.

Almost disregarding her reply, the man cocked his head and said, "I asked you that because I want to know the answer to the question on my mind - what kind of woman was she to be able to love a man like your father?"

Something rose in her chest. Indignation. Tommy Shelby probably saw her as a defender of her father. But she was quite the opposite.

She opened her mouth to set the record straight.

But before she could speak, Tommy leaned towards his brother, as if to mutter something in his ear. When he spoke, though, his voice was unchanged. His eyes were fixed on her as he did. Like he wanted her to hear.

"Arthur, I want you to escort this girl out the back, take her down to the canal and blow her brains out."

He paused for the briefest of moments, waiting for her reaction. She gave him none. 

Still, he carried on. "Once she's gone, her lifeless body tumbled into the cut, make sure that her family see. An eye for a fucking eye."

Arthur put his gun back in his holster before moving forward, his eyes shining as he reached for her. "Don't have to tell me twice," he grunted.

"Can't we talk first?" Gianna said coolly, and nimbly darted out of Arthur's reach.

As he grabbed for her again, Gia saw Tommy shift.

"Talk?" he said. His eye twitched. "Fucking talk?" he said again. 

"You don't get to talk," Arthur growled. 

With the slightest of flinches, Gianna dodged out of the man's grip for a third time.

"Fucking get 'ere, you wop scum," he said. 

"Look - " she started, keeping her voice as calm and professional as she could.

But before she could continue, Arthur Shelby snapped at two particularly bulky factory workers.

"Oi!" he roared, and they froze in their tracks. "Get 'ere and grab this girl! Her fucking bastard of a father killed our John!"

For the briefest moment, Gia froze as her eyes darted around, searching for anyone moving in her direction. But when she saw the two six-foot tall men barrelling her way, it was too late to get away. In seconds, they were on her, grasping her arms, stopping her in her tracks and getting soot all over her clothes. 

"Oh, fuck me," she swore, and dug her nails into their skin, hard. 

Yelping, for a brief moment, their grip loosened. Before they could regain it, she wrenched her arms out of their clasps, slammed a foot onto the first one's toes and rammed an elbow into the other's stomach. They sprang away from her, their cries bouncing throughout the room at an amusingly high pitch. 

She could feel the Shelby brothers watching her. The reason they kept back, she couldn't be sure.

When the men came stumbling back to her, arms reaching out, she was ready. 

With agile, quick movements, the moment they came within her reach, she jabbed them in the eyes, throat, and nose. Then, while they gasped for air, eyes bugging, she drove her knee into their groin in turn.  They doubled over, and, acting quickly, Gia shoved them to the ground. They toppled almost laughingly easily.

Inhaling sharply, her heart thumping with delicious adrenaline, she made for the Shelby brothers. "Look, Mr - "

But, unfortunately, her little scrap had attracted the attention of the factory once more, and before she could finish what she wanted to say, three more men had surrounded her, with more gathering nearby and helping the men on the ground to their feet.

In moments, she was outnumbered and devastatingly overpowered. The tallest of the group seized her by the waist and hoisted her at least a foot off the ground. Automatically, she kicked and thrashed at the other two as they grabbed her wrists and forearms, but they barely budged. Their skin was tougher than the first two men, in many senses. Her kicks must have felt like feather flutters.

"Fucking - fuck off - " she said through clenched teeth, her breathing becoming more and more of a task.

Her actions were turning wilder, more desperate. She fought against her captors relentlessly, trying to wrench her arms free once more, grappling for any kind of effective purchase on the men's bodies with her nails, her feet, her knees. But they remained rooted to the ground, their hold on her unwavering. 

She was losing energy from struggling, and her alarm was starting to show. She couldn't be stuck. She couldn't. 

Do not back down. You are not afraid. Do not back down. You are not afraid.

But she was. She hated to admit it. But she was. She hated the feeling of being trapped.

Almost blind with anxiety, she looked up at the Shelby brothers. They hadn't moved; they were just standing there, watching her struggle. The eldest looked to be enjoying it. 

Finally, she forced herself to have some dignity and stop fighting, giving in to the human shackles around her. She was not backing down; she was holding back from disgracing herself by appearing afraid. The men holding her seemed relieved as she relaxed, but didn't loosen their grip in the slightest. In fact, the man who's arms were snaked around her waist seemed to hold her even tighter. 

Once she had stopping moving entirely, save for the rising and falling of her chest, Tommy Shelby surveyed her. 

Then he started to move forwards, his steps slow. 

"He had children," he said lowly. His hands were twitching by his sides, like he couldn't wait to strike her. "A wife. A fucking family. Do you people have no fucking morals? Huh?" 

Gianna's first instinct at hearing an insult towards her and her family was to come up with a biting reply. But then, as she processed the rest of what he had said, she realised that she couldn't, because she didn't know what he was talking about. 

"I'm sorry?" she said lowly, her voice controlled. "Who had a family?"

"Who. Fucking who, she says." If it weren't for the look on her face, he might have been joking.

He was right before her now. She could properly see the wildness in his eyes, the anger simmering in them. He was in no position to halt his anger, to be reasoned with or questioned. 

"How dare you be here. How dare you be here in my factory, talking to me." With every second, his voice grew louder and louder, getting the attention of the factory workers around them who weren't paying any already. "How fucking dare you people come here! Go back to where you came from, and leave my fucking family alone!" His hand swept through the air in a violent gesture to accompany his words. But Gia was too confused to be threatened. 

"Mr Shelby what are you talking about?" she breathed. But her heart sunk as she spoke, as she began to piece things together.

"Don't act stupid," Arthur said from behind Tommy, filling his brother's silence. His gun was back in his hand, aimed at her. "Our brother's wife will never feel her husband's love ever again. Or his children, for that matter."

Gia's stomach churned. "Merda," she cursed quietly. Her suspicions were confirmed. 

God, she should have stayed at home. 

"What did she say?" Arthur was saying to his brother, his eyes still on her. 

"I don't know," Tommy returned. His icy blue eyes were fixed on her face analytically, his head cocked a little. He knew something was wrong.

"Something in pasta speak?" Arthur continued, chuckling to himself. The men restraining Gia laughed in turn.

Tommy's hand shot up suddenly, silencing them wordlessly. They obeyed him instantly, although Arthur seemed rather put out. 

His eyes still trained on her, almost unblinkingly, he took a small step forward, and murmured, "What is it?"

Gianna swallowed hard. It was difficult to remain composed while several feet off the floor by sooty men with wandering hands. She hadn't missed the quick gropes, the chuckles of manly approval. 

But still, as she spoke, she retained her Changretta cool. "I am told nothing, Mr Shelby. I am only here because I was ordered to be. I didn't know anything about your brother, and I wasn't involved in his death in any way. I swear to you." Then, she added half-jokingly, "If you have a Bible on you, I'll do it properly."

Although he didn't show it too readily, she had touched Tommy Shelby, or at least swayed him. His eyes, although still . His brother behind him let the gun in his hand tilt downwards slightly, while the men holding her seemed to exchange confused looks.

Swallowing again, she added softly, "I am sincerely sorry for your loss."

The people who had gathered around them, who had been growing quieter and quieter, seemed to fall silent. Confusion and intrigue hung over the factory like a storm cloud. 

"Listen, Mr Shelby," she continued while she had their attention. "I know you're a man of business. You're reasonable, at least with your legitimate work. So, please, for one minute, listen to me - not as a Changretta but as an individual. Because I have a proposal for you."

The factory seemed to hold it's breath.

Gianna was very aware that she could be killed in a matter of seconds. Tommy had all the power in the room. He could command his brother to shoot, or draw the gun she could see in the holster at his side and put a bullet between her eyes. He could have gunmen hidden in the rafters of the building, or a man creeping up behind her, so she wouldn't see it coming. 

The man before her could lift a finger and she'd be dead.

But regardless, she drew herself up (as much as she could do in her position) and waited. She had had more close encounters with death than most twenty year olds could say. 

She was not afraid. 

Adrenaline coursed through her body, and suddenly, it became true.

For seconds that felt like hours, Tommy Shelby stared her down, grasping for any evidence that she was being untruthful.

Then, finally, his eyes flickered, and he begrudgingly flapped a hand at the men holding her.

"Set her down," he murmured, dipping his head so his peaked hat cast a shadow over his eyes. "And put your gun away, Arthur."

Grunting, the men slowly, almost reluctantly, set Gianna onto her feet, as Arthur stashed his gun back in his holster once again, inwardly angry. 

As soon as Gia's feet touched the floor, she sprang away from the men, brushing herself down with disgust.

"These clothes cost more than you earn in a year, I'd wager," she muttered at them.

They laughed at her again. Stupid little daddy's girl. Silly move.

Shooting them a hard look, she added, "I should gut each one of you for touching me like that." Her eyes slid to the biggest one, who had been especially handsy. "But you, my dear, would get special treatment. You ever hear what us lot do to fellas we disagree with?" 

Her eyes slid south, and she made snipping motions with her hands. He tried not to show it, but his heart had plummeted into his stomach. 

Tommy twitched an eyebrow up, and licked his lips as if to say, oh boy. 

"Go back to work," he said shortly to the men, and they dissipated quickly. 

Returning his gaze to Gia, he asked lowly, "Are you armed?" 

"Always," she replied. "May I remove my gun from my holster, so you can take it from me?"

"Please."

She plucked her weapon out and dangled it between two fingers in the air between them. Tommy reached out and removed it from her grasp. He inspected it for a moment. Then, he pulled it open, exposing the cylinder, and let the bullets fall into his hand with a series of soft clinks. 

Closing the cylinder, he handed both the gun and it's bullets to his brother, who grabbed them and stashed them in his jacket. His eyes were resentful, almost disappointed. He had truly desired to kill her, it seemed. 

Then, Tommy called over a non-descript looking man, and muttering something about making someone wait for ten more minutes. The man nodded tersely, and disappeared. Then, Tommy turned back to her. 

"Right. Let's continue this in my office, Georgia, eh?" he said, and cleared his throat smartly.

"Gianna," she grumbled, affronted.

"Whatever," he shot back indifferently. His movements stiff, he extended an arm, ready to guide her. His eyes didn't meet hers. Not out of nerves, but almost out of boredom. It appeared would rather be doing anything else than this. 

Arthur, at his side, was the opposite of his indifferent brother. He was glaring at her, his lips pressed and twitching. In his head, he had probably already taken her to the canal and shot her dead. If Gianna had the choice, she wouldn't have wanted to be in the same room as him, in the name of preserving her livelihood. 

But Gianna moved forward and fell into step with the Shelby brothers, letting them lead her upstairs.

*

Moving swiftly, Tommy drew the blinds of the windows that looked onto the factory below. Workers were peering up at them, positively itching with curiosity and anticipation, and very much distracted from their jobs.

With the blinds drawn, Tommy gravitated towards the window facing onto the street, while Arthur leaned heavily on the front of a desk. Peering behind him, she spotted a plaque with the latter's name engraved on it. 

Gianna remained stood before the closed door. She didn't dare get any closer. It was as if there was an invisible line on the floor between them.

They probably didn't want to be anywhere near her, either. She was a Changretta, and she had broken into their factory. 

The middle Shelby brother took a moment to remove a cigarette from his fancy metal case, stick it between his teeth and light it. A plume of smoke spilled from his mouth as he looked up at Gia, his eyes hard.

"We're listening. Aren't we, Arthur?" he said, his tone bitter, disinterested.

"Yeah. Tell us your proposal," his brother said in his gruff, low voice. He was eyeing her up and down, assessing her. Watching for any quick movements perhaps.

She swallowed, and folded her arms loosely. She was rather surprised she had made it this far. But she had planned what she was going to say. She could give them the nitty gritty details if they wanted them, but she had to just say it, plain and simple. 

They were both still watching her expectantly. So, clearing her throat, a small sound in the large room, she said, "I want my father gone. I want out of his life, by whatever means."

"... you want him dead?" Tommy said after a moment. His voice was suddenly soft - as soft as his gravelly, smoke-soaked tone could be - and laced with confusion, of all things.

The girl clenched her teeth, doing everything in her power to remain unreadable. It took a surprising amount of effort to reply to the man's question.

"If that's what it takes. Yes," she said quietly. 

*

Once again, there were a few moments of silence. But before, it had been due to the pair trying to intimidate the other, willing each other to back down and look away. But now, it was laden with something close to understanding.

Then, their movements slow, quiet, the brothers exchanged looks.

"I would not have pegged you as some kind of Judas, Gianna Changretta," Tommy mused after a while, looking back at her.

The sight of her made him angry. She looked quite a bit like her father: she had his hard, intense eyes, his face structure, his nose but smaller, his cocky, self-assured air. She may have claimed to be different, but he couldn't take her word for it just yet. 

He could feel the weight of his gun resting by his ribs, see his brother standing at his side. It would be all too easy to draw his weapon and put a bullet in the girl's head, or to command Arthur to do it for him. He was practically itching to. 

He ground his teeth as he looked at her. She stared right back. 

If he killed Gianna Changretta, he could, in some way, avenge John. He could eliminate the threat she posed on his family if the possibility that the girl was lying through her teeth, and was merely a pawn that her father was using as an infiltrator, was true.

The longer he looked at her, standing by the door, stony faced, the more the notion of killing her appealed to him.

Her father killed John, he thought. My brother. My own blood. Changretta wants an eye for an eye - it's only right that I follow his philosophy. We can keep playing this game until there is none of either family left. 

But, in times like these, Tommy knew he had to keep a cool head.

If he killed Gianna, the eldest Changretta could become completely psychotic, and instead of killing the Shelbys off slowly, he could execute them all in one fell swoop. If he killed Gianna, technically, he would be violating the ground rules of the vendetta. The girl was barely out of school; they had agreed that children would be spared, along with civilians and policemen. If he killed Gianna... he would be cutting short the life of someone so young.

Unfamiliar morality passed through Tommy briefly, along with images of his little boy. 

Then, the morality dissolved as he realised something - if he killed Gianna, the potential of having her under his wing would be wasted. She could be very useful in this vendetta between the families. 

Blinking, he broke away from the girl's gaze for a moment.

"Tom," Arthur grunted. Urging him to speak. To make a decision. 

His mind whirring and eyes flickering, Tommy distractedly gestured for Gianna to sit down in the chair before Arthur's desk. The latter's face pinched at the notion of having her nearer to him. Disregarding his disgust, Gia moved quickly, silently, perching towards the edge of the seat. 

"So..." Tommy finally said, still thinking, rationalising. "You want your father dead. What is it you want from us?"

The Changretta girl didn't reply a moment, clasping her hands and resting them in her lap. She appeared to be going over her answer in her head. 

Then, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, she looked up and asked, "May I smoke?"

Once again, Arthur and Tommy exchanged looks. 

"Sure," Tommy said faintly after a moment. 

She took a packet of Lucky Strikes from her coat pocket along with a box of matches. As she stuck one between her lips, she began to speak, quickly and confidently, her gaze switching between the Shelby brothers as she did.

"I can't kill for him anymore," she said, and struck a match. "Most of my teenage years were spent hunting down men. Seducing and luring away men. Just killing and killing and killing."

Pausing, she held the flame to the end of her cigarette. As soon as it caught, she drew it from her mouth and blew out a thin stream of smoke. A small, content smile flickered briefly over her face, before it reverted back to her seemingly permanent frown. 

"He takes from me what he needs and forgets I am a young girl with limits. He forgets I am his daughter; he certainly doesn't treat me as such. The only times he shows compassion towards me are used as ploys to keep me under his control. Can I give this to you?" 

She was holding the half-blackened match out to Arthur. Slowly, half-dazed, he leaned forward and plucked it from her grip. He made sure not to brush his fingers against hers. 

"Thank you," she said curtly, and he grunted in reply as he dropped it into an ashtray beside him. "My point is, I have to get away from him. I will get back on the ship to America with him in a coffin before I go with him willingly."

Then, inhaling sharply, she leaned backwards, her cigarette now balanced between her fingers. "So, if you... Peaky Blinders... help me get what I want, then I would be in your debt." 

Her eyes locked on Tommy. He was watching her, his mind churning with conflict. 

"I could... I have skills that you might find valuable. I am excellent at hand-to-hand combat, lock-picking and sharpshooting. I have no problem with murder when it is justified. And I - "

"You're trying to say you'd serve us?" Arthur cut over her carefully.

"Not serve. I'm not a slave," she scoffed. "But, pretty much. I don't have to be one of you. But you could call on me, if you needed me."

"Well." Tommy cleared his throat, fiddling with his cigarette, his eyes straying out the window. "I'm sure we could figure something out for you. But why?" His eyes slid over to meet hers. "Why should we help you? Why should we help the kid of the man who had our John killed, and why would we want that kid working for us?"

"And how do we know you ain't lying?" Arthur finished. 

Gia's lip twitched.

She took a quick, deep drag of her cigarette, cheeks hollowing, her eyes fixed on Tommy.

And as she exhaled smoke, she made a frustrated, yet melancholy sound, and said lowly, "Because I'm desperate. He's done things to me that you wouldn't believe. Have a little compassion and help a girl with nowhere else to go." She licked her lips and sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. "Must I beg?"

Her words hung in the silence of the room for a few moments.

The cogs in Tommy's mind were beginning to slow down, his thoughts gaining clarity, resolution. He took a drag of his own cigarette, glanced at Arthur, and then looked back at Gianna.

"I assume that if your father finds you consorting with the enemy... " He let his voice trail off.

Gianna's jaw clenched, but she forced herself to shrug, attempting to appear breezy. "He certainly wouldn't congratulate me."

"But you still want our help?"

"Yes. This is all I have. This could be my only chance at... at getting away from him."

The cogs gave a last clank, and came to a stop.

Arthur was watching him. The expression on his face told him that his brother could tell that he had made his decision, and he wasn't the least bit happy about it.

But still, Tommy shifted where he stood, rubbed the corner of his eye with a thumb, inhaled sharply, and spoke. 

"Alright. We'll help you."

For a second, it was clear that the Changretta girl couldn't believe her ears, as for the first time, he saw her face lift. Her dark, hard eyes brightened, and Tommy thought she would smile.  

But, as quickly as it had begun, the expression disappeared. 

"Thank you, Mr Shelby," she said. Her voice was unchanged. 

She looked like she wanted to say something else. But Tommy cut over her before she could.

"But know this - your people killed my brother. If you show even the slightest sign of being dishonest, or if you turn out to not be what you say what you are, I will kill you. And you can take my word for that."

Although he very much meant what he said, Gianna Changretta wasn't afraid. The most she reacted was by the corners of her mouth briefly tipping up.

"Very well," she murmured.

She rose out of her seat, crossed the room to him, and held out a small hand. 

Tommy looked down on her, a muscle in his jaw flickering.

Then, he extended his own hand, and took hers in it.

They shook once. Twice. Then released. 

The deal was made.