CHAPTER ONE

The usual glitz and noise of London had been replaced with an eerie sort of quietness. It was an ominous air, clinging to the streets like a fog. Along that street, there was no echoing of jazz, no glow of bar lights and no stench of spilt alcohol staining the cobblestones. The click of heels broke that silence, cutting through it like a blade, like a light in the darkest of corners.

"Miss Davis." The voice called to her from the dark of the alley, almost like the hiss of a snake, the buzz of a fly. Her feet followed the sound like a moth to a flame, the stench of cigarette smoke calming her only slightly.

"It's Smith, thank you," Adelaide said, finding the man's eyes in the dulled glow of lamplight. She didn't recognise him, but he knew exactly who she was.

"The boss would like to thank you for your support," he began, dark eyes trailing her every movement as she walked to lean against the wall, merging into the shadows, stubbing out her cigarette against the brick.

"I don't have time for this," she said, gaze flickering to the end of the street. A lone figure stood there, his body an extension of the shadows he'd emerged from. Adelaide watched him carefully. "Why am I here?"

The Italian let out a light laugh, a harsh sort of sound that was forced enough to gargle in his throat. His arms were folded calmy against his stomach and suddenly Adelaide felt terribly afraid.

"Mr Sabini would also like to apologise in advance."

Her voice barely escaped above a whisper. "What for?"

A verbal answer never came. Rough hands grabbed onto her, pulling her backwards. The bague darkness of night was replaced with the resolute blackness of a hood, blinding her senses. Adelaide let out a sharp cry as they dragged her feet in the direction of the street. She threw her head backwards, connecting with a strong crack to a nose in the same instance she brought her elbow crashing backwards.

"Get your hands off me!" Her voice was muffled by the thick material blocking her lips.

Backwards and backwards, she was being dragged toward the street, just as anticipated. Harry is here, the thought gave little comfort to her mind, Harry will fix this. But in that same moment, the hood was swiped swiftly from her head, momentarily halting her struggle. There, head leaning through the open window of a car, was her brother, bound and gagged, a cut spilling from above his eye.

He was muttering her name over and over. Adelaide. Adelaide. Adelaide. The hood was placed over her eyes again as she was pushed into the car. She could feel her brother's presence at her side, his head lulling against her shoulder. The rumbling of the car brought her thoughts forward again.

Without her sight, she could not tell where they took them. The first thing she noticed as she was pulled from the car, was the unwavering damp smell that thickened the air like soured milk. Adelaide cringed and held her breath, letting her ears focus on the sounds, but there was nought but silence in that large room. Even with the blindfold on, she could feel the vastness of it, that deep, isolating chill that only came with dark space.  

She was met with the face of Sabini's subordinate when the mask was pulled from her face, the darkness never changing. 

"Why is he doing this?"

The man didn't need a reason. He was Darby Sabini, the king of the racecourse gangs. In the south, it was Sabini who ran everything, from the racecourses the the underground world of London. 

"Did you think we wouldn't find out?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she bit out, feeling the fire of the rope burn against her skin.

"Mr Sabini heard that you'd worked with the Peaky Blinders previous to coming to London. Mr Shelby is now with Solomon." He leaned further into her, his voice clear and steady, taunting. "And you must realise how this looks to us."

"The Peaky Blinders mean nothing to us."

"Lies. Lies. Lies." Sabini's man said, finding glee in his torment. But Adelaide didn't think they were. She no longer thought of Tommy Shelby and his family, no longer thought of the emotional turmoil he'd once caused her. The man seemed to sense the falsehoods in her mind. "What a waste of a woman you are, sprouting lies as if it were not a sin. Imagine what we could have done with you."

"You have to right to speak of sin."

They lived in a world of crime. There was no space for religion and the judgement it enforced. She saw the silver cross that hung from his neck, small but encrusted with jewels. 

"Perhaps not," the man said. He was close now. So close. "But who cares about sin when the temptation is so strong."

She spat at him, watching as he recoiled away, the space between them now feeling liberating.

"Bitch!"

The noise of his shout woke Harry from his haze. Bruised eyes blinked open, slowly becoming panicked as he realised what was happening. She could only calm him with her eyes, her lips not willing to speak as Sabini's subordinate raged back toward them, eyes white with fury. Harry watched him with a slack jaw, struggling pointlessly against his restraints. 

"You'll get what you have coming to you," he said, loving every moment of his own cruelty. "And I'll give it to you." 

All it took was a whistle to set things into motion. The dingy room only seemed to darken as another man was brought in, beaten and bruised, limps against his captive's hold. It took merely a moment for her to recognise the victim. Robert Murphy's head lulled against his neck. His eyes were closed and swollen. Even in forced sleep, he too looked pained. 

"Robert!" She called out to him but their friend did not wake. "What are you doing with him?"

The man ignored her. "Wake him. I want him to be aware of everything that happens." 

Adelaide let out a sob as the two captors turned to Robert and leaned into a punch, their fists connecting with his stomach. Someone held her head up, nails digging into the skin of her forehead, forcing her to watch. Punch after punch they delivered to the man without hesitating, leaving his skin cut and bruised. 

For one short moment, Adelaide's eyes found his, seeing behind the firsts that now found his face. He was awake, his head still lulling in weakness, but she saw the smile- so sad and so hurt- that made the tears fall hard enough to stain her cheeks. Harry was shouting beside her. Angry, vengeful shouts that soon merged with the dulled, blunt sound of the men's punches. 

"Kill him."

Her flinch came at the same moment a trigger was pulled, locking her neck in a painful cramp. The gunshot rang sharp around the room. But Adelaide couldn't look, didn't want to. Robert Murphy- the man who'd been as good as a father to them- was dead. Harry was sobbing now too, deep, aching, mournful sounds making her fear even harder. But her eyes were wrenched open, her head tilted toward the body on the ground. Robert's body.

They left them there, the body, the boy, and the woman who had caused this all. Adelaide did not hold back her wails. Her grief was loud, all-encompassing, forcing them to hear her pain so that they may fear it. No honour existed in that room. It did not matter that the blood of an innocent man was on their hands. The crimson liquid did not burn their skin as it would any other. But she would have her revenge, would teach them to feel the loss of life as deeply as if it were their own. Blood would pay with blood. And Adelaide could wait. Adelaide could wait a very long time. 

*

Anger fumed in the pit of Adelaide's stomach. It was like an acid, building in her body, burning away at her insides until she was ready to melt.  The white of her knuckles was hot, her face a dangerous red. Fury waited to be swept away with violence, just as she wanted it to be. Such violence was longed for, and craved, weclomed with an eager yearning. If only it would consume her, submerge her morality in the dark. Adelaide wished for blood. 

When they were younger, Harry would talk of the series of people who could fight off tigers and monsters, all in the name of a loved one. Perhaps she could too. Adelaide ached for a release from the anger she felt. Day after day, there was something to add fuel to the fire that had first been ignited on the day Robert had been murdered. 

She could still picture his face on the day of his death. Beaten and broken, both physically and in spirit. She didn't want that to be the image she remembered him by, but it was. Losing him had killed both of the siblings. Adelaide felt numb. There would be no more jokes at the kitchen table as their plans and business brewed, building their way up in the world together. 

It took three days to be called for again. Harry had barely spoken in that entire time. Only as they reached the doors of their destination, did he spare a few words. 

"We'll get through this," he said, and Adelaide could only nod. 

Two men stood by the oak desk. Both had faces littered with cuts and bruises, but there was only one she recognised. Marco Sabini, a cousin. They stood stiffly in the silent room, hands held tightly at their backs. And finally, sitting at the high desk, there he was, Darby Sabini himself. His face spoke of smugness and condescension. 

"Last night, Miss Davis, my cousins, as you can see, were attacked in one of my own clubs." His eyes pierced into hers. Sabini knew what he was doing by calling her by her name and ignoring Harry. "By a gang from Birmingham, calling themselves the Peaky Blinders."

Adelaide didn't react, didn't lean into his bite. 

"I hear you've worked with them before. Is that right, Miss Davis?" His voice was calm, but his eyes spoke at volume. "Is that right?" 

"No." her voice came as a hiss through gritted teeth. The man behind her tugged tightly on her arms, drawing them together sharply. 

"There are few things I hate in this world, but liars are one of them," Sabini said. "So do not lie to me. Now, how about this. I do not show weakness against those who mean to go against me. I do not tolerate stupidity or dishonour. The leader of the Peaky Blinders took a beating in retaliation to the attack on The Eden."

He flipped something small her way and the push on her shoulders forced her to pick it up. It was white and bone-lie, a- "My boys took a tooth. The tooth of Thomas Shelby who now sits immobile in a hospital bed, fighting to hold onto his life."

Adelaide swallowed, fighting back the flood of emotion that threatened to spill out onto her face. Tommy Shelby... she had not thought of him in so long. 

"I can see it on your face," Sabini said and for a moment, Adelaide closed her eyes so she would not have to look at him. "I showed Thomas Shelby mercy. Just as I am about to with you. Now, Miss Davis, Mr Davis, you have helped me a great deal these past two years and I have no reason to want to see that change. But I can't have you trailing old shit in on your shoes, as the saying goes."

His voice grated through her ears. She swallowed again, this time eradicating the bubble of anxiety that spilt through her throat. 

"Now here is what will happen: you will keep your loyalties to me. I have decided to look past this and be generous. I've shown what happens when you betray me and I will not shy away from doing it again. Do you understand?"

There was no answer from the siblings. His anger was only revealed by the redness of his face. "Answer me."

"Yes," Adelaide said, the word abrupt and forced and almost a shout. "We understand."

Sabini grinned tauntingly in the most show of emotion she'd ever witnessed from him.  

"Let us move on to more important matters now that it is dealt with," he said, dismissing it all with a wave of his hand. The notion of such a blatant lack of respect made Adelaide silently fume. "You'll meet with Rossi at the Eden, this coming Saturday. Bring Robinson."

And, with that, Mr Sabini was finished with them. He barked out an order for the room to be cleared and in a matter of seconds, Harry and Adelaide were being pulled backward through the door and into the light of day once again.