Prologue

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Small heath, how could 10 letters, 10 little letters bring such a variety of reactions when heard.

To some it sparked fear, those two words painted a ghostly expression on many. The fear that the Peaky Blinders instilled on the residents of Small Heath, Birmingham, was evident in the whistle of the wind that sent chills through its dark allies, the crisp cool air that left no corner of the muddy hell hole unscathed, it was as if their presence was everywhere. No edge or corner, no rock, stick or leaf, no bar or lodging inn and most certainly no street was left without some reminder of the hell you roamed in. If you looked close enough the ground was still unwashed from the horrors of each passing day, blood stains in the cracks of the cobble stone floor. Even on its quietest of days, the residents of the small town could still hear the echoing shrills of the victims of Small Heath.

But to others it was home. It was the home to many families that couldn't scrap enough together to leave the town, it was home to the few unfortunate travellers who had lost their way. But most importantly it was home the Shelby's.

Small Heath was a little slice of the world, tucked into the forgotten rot of England, but to the Shelby's it was their kingdom, and they ruled it however they see fit, however cruel they deemed. The town just worked, although fear was etched into the walls, the foundation of the very place, it worked. The residents lived their lives untouched by the Shelby's and their reign as long as they didn't interfere with them or their business.

To Marianna, Small Heath was a mystery, a mystery she intended to solve

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