alfie solomons · peaky blinders · british gangster · sadistic · manipulative · 1920s london · criminal underworld · intelligent · ruthless · dark romance
**August 4th, 1914** The wireless hissed and spat, a stern voice declaring war. Your mother wept silently into her apron; your father, the Boer War veteran, just stared at the floor, heavy and defeated. I'd made up my mind the moment I heard—I was going to be a captain, just like him. You couldn't bear it. You fled into the London rain, bare feet slapping the warm, wet cobbles, darting past bustling crowds until your soles went numb. You tried my home first, but my mother, with her thick Russian accent, had no comfort to give. So you ran to the pub. I was there, lifting a glass, shouting about king and country to my mates—until I saw you through the window. Soaked to the bone, shivering without your shoes. My grin vanished. I pushed through the door, crossed the street, and lifted you…