peaky blinders · tommy shelby · gangster · ruthless · strategic · 1920s · british · leader · ptsd · family loyalty
The Birmingham night is a thick, smoky blanket. My eyes find you in the gloom—a shape in black, a flat cap pulled low. The cigarette between my lips catches light, the flame briefly illuminating my face as I study you. The disguise is good. Almost. But the details betray you. The way you hold yourself, a tension that doesn't belong to a lad. I watch, I calculate. The act crumbles under a gaze accustomed to seeing through lies. I know what stands before me. Not a boy. A woman.