25

By the time Ana reached the camp, it was already dark out. It looked deserted, already made of its use, but light still emerged from the hole that was surrounded by wooden posts. Her mother was here for left overs. Tommy Shelby and his gang had already left.

She scaled her way around until she was metres away from the entrance, the lamp light becoming brighter by the moment. Ana held her breath.

Ekaterina pulled herself from the tunnel, eyes blinking away the tear that formed in her eyes from the dust and stress. He knees were scratched and her back ached, but the feeling of the bag of jewels heavy in her hands made everything feel numb in ecstasy.

But then her whole body weakened at the sight of her youngest daughter, face stricken with betrayal.

"Mama," Ana breathed out in disbelief.

She had know the truth, discussed it in detail with her sister. She had come out here to prove herself right and to make things correct. But seeing her mother in the incriminating position made her throat go dry and teeth clench.

"Ana, my darling. Anastasiya, we have done it." Ekaterina's eyes still pricked but she stumbled forward, holding the bag up.

But Ana edged back, horror written on her face. "No, you've done it. You have done terrible things," she growled, glaring at her mother. "You lied. You lied about who you were helping. Anton. Constantine. He's the man you're doing this for. He died and you're taking your revenge. That was the code word, that day."

"I'm doing this for us, Anastasiya," she tried to convince her, but Ana shook her head harshly.

"No, you're doing this for you. Who are those jewels for?"

"Ana-"

"Who." She bit her tongue, waiting for the answer she could already imagine word for word.

Ekaterina's face blackened. "Us. We'll take them far away."

"What about the conflict?"

"I don't care about that anymore," she spat, her shoulders slumping. "Once he died, once Constantine died... there's no part in this for us, Ana."

"Who were they going to be for?"

"Not your Aunt's side. If that answers it," she said, bitterness lacing her voice. "I need you to let me leave, dearest." She stepped forward, pleading. "If you're not on my side I will leave, never see you again."

"Don't do this mama," Ana said, hands held out. "Give me the bag."

But she didn't hand them over.

"Move, Ana." Her jaw clenched as she watched daughter stand still.

"No."

"Please, my darling Anastasiya. Don't be like your sister. Move."

"No."

"Ana, move," she almost growled out, the jewels being clenched tighter in her hand. "If you love me you will move."

"I'm not moving without that bag."

Ekaterina's face darkened, her eyes pulling into a glare. Her hand dipped into her pockets, wrapping around something cold. The last action.

"Is this all really worth what you're doing?"

"You give me no choice," her mother said.

Then her hand lifted slowly, pulling with it sleek metal. A gun was held up, aiming straight toward Ana.

"I need this, Ana. Understand this and forgive me."

"No."

Ana had felt the sharp shudder of the foreign object lodging itself into her skin before the gun had even been fired. She had felt the agony caused by the gunshot as soon as her mother's treachery had been revealed. Ana was injured before she had even stepped into harms way.

Muffled apologies escaped from her mother's dry lips as she looked down at her daughter who lay paralysed with disbelief on the cold floor. The gun was still held up, pointed behind her at the desolate backdrop that engulfed them. Ana's eyesight was blurry as she gradually lifted her gaze to fall upon the women she could no longer recognise. She could hear the apologies, but the voice that it came from no longer sounded familiar- instead it was cold and bitter, telling a lie that even Ana couldn't force herself to believe.

Anastasiya shook her head harshly, but her chin ended up dipping weakly as a wave of fatigue washed over her tensed muscles. She slapped carelessly onto the floor in front of her mother's feet with her palm, screaming out.

"You traitor!"

"No, no. No!" Ekaterina stuttered, the figure of her daughter spooking her like a small dog.

She ran, skipping away easily from the scene as if nothing had happened, blocking out the sounds of Ana's passionate accusations.

John ran as fast as he ever had before after his car dropped him at the Petrovna house. His lungs burned, his eyes almost bleary. All he could think about was how wrong this had gone and how wrong things could go. But then his knees buckled and he crashed to the floor weakly, his ears hearing what he feared most. A gunshot.

The silence around her was screaming, drumming against her brain and forcing her to screech out in pain, just to hear the comfort of noise echoing against the emptiness around her. Ana was alone. She could feel the blood spilling from her side, pouring out into her gloved hand, staining the delicate material red.

Anastasiya Petrovna knew that her family would be the end to her. It was just the side of it that she was wrong about.

Ana cried tears of anger, of hatred, of betrayal, all at once in one continuous flood of strangled sobs. The pain of deception ripped through her chest, spreading like a disease to her heart, capturing it whole in a dark, black shadow. Anastasiya felt like acid had been poured into her twisted veins, killing her swiftly from the inside out, corrupting the very essence of her being that kept her alive. Ana felt like she was dying. But she wasn't dying quick enough.

"Ana? Ana!"

The voice was like the sound of wedding bells crashing through a dull day. His voice was like the angel she waited for that may claim her and lift her to heaven. John Shelby's voice was a sound she wished to hear for the rest of her short time on earth.

"John?"

He appeared by her side, eyes wide with shock and cheeks slick with tear. His hands pulled her toward him, her back sliding onto his knees so her head could lean against his chest, eyes staring back at his brilliant blue gaze.

"Oh God."

He was sobbing, she realised.

"Don't, I'll get blood on you."

"I don't care."

His head dropped to lean against hers. Ana felt her eyelids droop, but John shook her chin, forcing them open again.

"Please, John, you have to follow her," she pleaded, her voice raspy.

"Your mother did this?" She nodded. "I can't leave you."

Blood was looking at her side. It was the loss of it that would kill her, not the injury itself. John knee he could save her- he wanted to believe it.

"I have enough life in me yet. Hurry," she whispered, hand shaking against his cheek. "John. Make sure she's dead."

John disappeared and her vision was met with black once again. It felt like seconds when John was back at her side again, the clunk of a bag beside her dropping to the floor and the echo of a gunshot somewhere not too far in the distance.

"Did you get them?"

John ignored the question, pulling her close once again. How could she think of such things when she was loosing blood slowly but steadily. But he nodded.

"Come here," he muttered, eyes finally drying. "Ana, I-"

"Don't, not now. I know," she said. Ana knew what he would say. She couldn't bare it. Couldn't bare knowing that her life would be forever spent without ever hearing those three words again. "I didn't think it'd end like this."

"Let me help you!" John tried to pull her up but Ana cried out in pain.

"Ah!"

God, the pain felt so much more real! The reality of it came crashing down at her with a forceful weight. Tears crashed against her cheeks, but they weren't her own.

"Ana, I love you, okay. I need you to know that."

"Stop talking you idiot!" Her eyes fluttered closed, preferring to talk that to see, even with his beautiful face staring back down at her. She couldn't bare the tears. "I know you love me. Because the way you look at me is the exact way I feel when I look at you. I love-" Pain flashed through her once again, sending her hand crashing down weakly from his face. "Oh, God!"

"I love you, John. I was always to scared to say it and now I'm scared I'll never say it again."

"Don't say that," he pleaded, pulling her into his arms.

"That's how I felt when you were saying all of that shit!" She drawled, her words slurring.

"We'll get through this."

Then he was carrying her. She couldn't see where. All she could see was black. All she could hear was John's sobs and his pleads for her to stay awake. But one thought remained in her mind and on her tongue:

"I don't want to die."

𓆙