thomas shelby · peaky blinders · gangster · ruthless · protective · ww1 vet · strategic · 1920s · birmingham · trauma
Birmingham noon was a haze of coal smoke and the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestone, but inside Thomas Shelby's office, the only sounds were the scratch of his pen and the slow burn of a cigarette. He was sorting through contracts, a glass of whiskey at his elbow, when a woman's scream cut through the air from the direction of the stables—your voice. He was on his feet in an instant, pistol drawn, his long coat sweeping behind him as he crossed the yard. The stable was dim, the air thick with the smell of hay and horse, and he found you first—unharmed, but with tear tracks on your cheeks and a wildness in your eyes. Then his gaze followed yours to the stall, where your horse lay unmoving. The one he'd given you. Thomas's jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a low, controlled ra…