𝑵𝑶 𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑪𝒀 | 𝐓.𝐒 |

𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛: 𝒟𝑒𝓇𝒷𝓎 𝒟𝒶𝓎

Thomas kissed the top of her hair down before pressing his forehead against hers, "I love you," she whispered under her breath and he quickly felt a burning feeling-a sensation he needed more of, a sensation he never want to miss.

All they did was look into each other's eyes, never blinking so they could stay in them for an eternity. The time finally stopped at that moment, a very old but somehow familiar feeling enveloped the lovers-safe and warm.

Thomas Shelby wished, hoped, and prayed that this moment would never end.

Today is an important day just as Thomas has told her, it had been a week since she got discharged from the hospital. Mercedes knew he was bent on vengeance, but she didn't want that; instead, she told him to destroy Sabini, to bring him down, and that is exactly what Thomas Shelby is going to do-his plan is to takeover Sabini's race track licenses.

Thomas was deeply committed to protecting her and the people around her, that being said, Thomas didn't allow her to come to the Epsom Derby races with him. "I made you tea," she said, placing the tray on the table.

"Thank you, my love," he replied, giving her a soft kiss on the temple. "Will you sit down for a minute, yeah?" Thomas added, placing the letter inside the envelope and sealing it.

"Alright," said Mercy, shrugging her shoulders and sitting down in front of him, the sudden change in mood made her anxious and uncomfortable, Thomas cleared his throat, his facing turning serious, "Angel, you see...if anything happens to me today-"

"No," her voice cracked, she knew where he was going with his words so she cut him off instantly and stood bolt upright, "I don't want to hear any of that goodbye speech of yours, no, I will not hear any of this!" she spoke too quickly to be understood, her eyes widening in alarm. She felt her chest growing tight, making it hard for her to breathe-it was suffocating.

A prickling sensation ran up her spine that made her whole body pulse rhythmically just thinking about something awful happening to Thomas.

"Listen to me-"

"No, muchas gracias," she said, running her fingers through her hair and storming out of the living room without looking back. Mercedes was stubborn in this hopeless situation, but she couldn't help herself. The de Silva woman reached into the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a bottle of rum, she needed a sip, just a little bit.

As she was about to open the lid, a hand snatched the bottle away from her, "You can't drink yet," Thomas said, lightly putting it on top of the table. What little patience he had was waning fast, but he had to control it.

She rolled her eyes in defeat yet it was burgeoning with tears and leaned against the kitchen sink, Mercy crossed her arms as her face contorted as though she was struggling not to cry. Thomas stood in front of her-trapping her body between him and the sink. He cupped her face, both of his thumbs delicately caressing her cheeks.

"Listen to me, my love, a'right?" he softly began, still caressing her. Mercy nibbled her lower lip, nodding at his request. She inhaled deeply and nodded again, "If anything happens to me today, I need you to post that letter from earlier."

Mercedes didn't ask why Thomas was considering the chances that something could happen to him. Business, bad business. "What's in it, Tommy?" she wondered in a hoarse, cracking voice.

"It's...to do with insurance, love," answered the Shelby man, lying through his teeth.

Mercy stared at his eyes as if trying to read his mind, "Don't lie to me," she removed his grip on her and walked away, but Thomas was quick to grab her by the arm. "If I was trying to lie to you, you wouldn't know it-I'm smart enough to lie to you and get away with it, yeah?"

"I don't care!" the woman shouted with furrowed brows, "You come back to me and you-you post that goddamned letter of yours, entiendes?" she added, stammering on words that wouldn't come out while pointing her finger at him.

Thomas Shelby found himself in the depths of misery, "I will, my love," he answered despite the lump in his throat. He didn't know if it was possible for him to come back after this day, but he desperately wanted to.

With his hand on her neck, the man pulled her into a close hug. Her body molded against his as she accepted the warm, strong hug. Thomas' eyes were welling up with tears, but he held them back so she wouldn't see them. "Promise me, Thomas...promise me that you'll come home to me. You have to come back to me..." she breathed, the tears continued to seep down Mercy's cheeks but she didn't sob.

"I promise."

Promises were meant to be broken.

"Sit down!" a man with a thick Irish accent yelled, his gun aimed straight at Thomas' head. He sighed deeply and slumped himself on the van's floor as he realized he had no choice. "That's it, you make yerself nice and comfortable. Just goin for a wee drive, Mr. Shelby."

This is going to be the end of me, he thought. He had high hopes, that he'd get out of the races alive. Thomas was ecstatic to return back home-back to Mercedes, but that's it, they were nothing but hopes. Nothing goes inside his mind, except the raven-haired woman. How will she take the news of his passing? How will she cope? He was disturbed by these thoughts.

The vehicle rattled and eventually stopped at their destination, another man opened the door, revealing that they were in an empty, abandoned field. Thomas jumped out of the van, staring at the hole that was freshly dugout. After all, Chester Campbell was still able to execute his plan of killing him.

"Were any of you boys in France? Will you allow a man a cigarette?" asked Thomas.

"The Somme. Blackwoods," one man answered, "Somme, the bulge," Thomas nodded.

Thomas shook his head in disbelief, a wry smile creeping on his face, "So fucking close," he said before lighting up his final cigarette. He turned to look at the man beside him and said it once more. As he turned around, he looked up at the sky and closed his eyes.

Mercedes was the only thing he wanted to think about in his final moments.

(play video below for better reading)

The leader of the Peaky Blinders took one last drag of his vice, "Get it done, boys," he threw the stick on the ground as he walked towards the hole. He was holding the locket in his hand, never wanting to let go of it-he thinks that this way, he could still be with the love of his life.

"I know how it is," Thomas muttered before falling down to his knees.

I'm fucking sorry, my angel.

And then it all happened in an instant-two gunshots rang in the air, and a body fell on top of him. It was safe to say, he was in deep confusion, "At some point in the near future, Mr. Churchill will want to speak to you in person, Mr. Shelby. He has a job for you, we will be in touch," the Irish man said to him, his gun still pointed at him.

Promises are meant to be broken, or not.

So it seems that the great Thomas Shelby escaped another death once more, maybe, just maybe, even death fears a man like him.

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we're near the end yall. i actually made that video even before i wrote this chapter LOL. i hoped u guys liked it!!! <3

hey u guys commenting would defo make me the happiest i wanna hear ur insights about this book so ^__^