Astor // Arthur Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 32

I wrap a sheet around myself as I run to the full-length arched window, grilled into squares. I pull back the curtains and glance down to the front of the house. The black car rolls to a stop. Lucille and Pauline both get out of the back.

And Luca's brother gets out of the driver's seat.

I feel Arthur stand behind me, watching. "That him?" He asks.

"No." I turn, dropping the curtain and pushing Arthur back to the bed. "You need to stay here."

Fear bubbles in my gut, only getting stronger as I tug on breeches and a turtleneck as quickly as I can. The floors are cold now there's nobody to tend to the fires in the morning, and so thick socks become an inconvenient necessity to prevent my feet turning blue. It feels as though a rubber band has been snapped around my chest and is only tightening further.

"Like fuck," he says. "My fucking gun's down there, in my coat."

I cover my mouth with my hand as I recall the mess we made, dripping water and flinging clothes all across the hall. Arthur clearing the table and sending those vases shattering to the floor.

"Don't move," I tell him as I race from the room and take the stairs three at a time. I can hear the dogs yapping loudly, waiting for me to let them out, but there's no time.

I race into the hall as the door slowly opens. My feet catch a slick puddle of water, not yet dry from yesterday evening — my legs fly out from beneath me and I crash to the tiles, my palms smashing across broken china as they instinctively break my fall. I manage not to hit my head, but a bursting pain sears from my elbow, and I cannot twist my arm.

I grimace, trying to push myself upright. Lucille's suddenly at my side, her gloved hands tender as she helps me to my feet.

"The hell's going on in here?" Angel Changretta asks as his eyes graze across the scene. "Been throwing a fucking pool party?"

"Of course not." I try to think quickly, all too aware of the blatantly obvious man's suit strewn across the tiles, still sopping wet. Of my own clothes. "There was a terrible flood. I went to check the horses."

"You had company?" Angel asks. His hands rest on his hips, his eyes surveying every inch of the scene.

I run as best I can across the wet tiles, gathering everything up. "My father left some belongings here. I was trying to return them to him at the time."

I might have actually gotten anyway with it. Obviously Angel doesn't believe me, but there's no proof I'm lying, and Luca cannot punish me from New York. By the time he's home, I'll be ready to kill him.

I might have gotten away with it, if the gun did not fall as I scooped up the coat.

It clatters to the tiled floor. I freeze. We all watch as it stills.

Angel and I dart for it at the same time. My fingers close around it, but he elbows me right below the sternum, winding me as he wrenches the pistol from my fingers. It goes off in his hand, firing a bullet that shatters the chandelier above us, raining glass. Lucille screams, and Pauline cowers beside the front door.

I lunge for Angel, ready to rip the gun from him, but he kicks me off and this time, my head slams against the floor as I fall. With a groan, I push myself upright, trying to blink away the stars blinding my eyes. I'm so dizzy, I can feel my consciousness slipping, but I fight it with all my might. I won't pass out. I glance up.

Angel's pointing the pistol at me.

And then his eyes slide to something behind me.

"Good morning," I hear Arthur say. "I do believe that's my fucking gun."

Pauline mutters something I don't catch, as Arthur walks through the room, seemingly uncaring there's a loaded gun and a man ready to fire it once more.

"You're a Peaky Blinder," Angel says through clenched teeth. He's threatening to shake, and I don't blame him — something has come over Arthur. He's transformed from the man I know. He's lethal, even in only his boxer shorts, more predator than human. He bends down and picks up his cap.

Angel looks at me. "You'll regret this when my brother finds out."

"And you're about to regret ever pulling my gun on my girl," Arthur tells him in a low voice, stepping in so close that the gun is pressed against his own chest. "By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders."

He snatches the gun from Angel as easily as taking it from a sleeping man, and it discharges once more. But Arthur's not using it to hurt Angel — he doesn't need to. He slashes at the man's eyes with his cap, and though I don't understand at first, I see streams of blood begin to pour. Angel screams, trying to fight him off, but there's no fighting off Arthur once he's begun — I learn this about him in the seconds I stare. Mesmerised. The fluidity in his movements are impossible to tear my eyes from.

And then a fist connects with my jaw, sending me tumbling back down.

"Pauline?" I ask in disbelief, bringing a hand to my head, now beginning to truly throb.

Her eyes are wild as she bends down and clutches the front of my jumper, shaking me as she speaks. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asks. "He's going to kill me for this. He's going to fucking kill us both."

"Don't worry, I have a plan—" I begin.

It's Lucille who interrupts. "It's no use," she says sharply. Her eyes are fixed on the floor. "Tell her, Pauline."

But Pauline blazes. "You don't know what you're talking about. Stay out of this."

"Tell her, or I will."

I blink between them both. "Tell me what?"

Pauline begins to sob. "He loves me," she says. "He loves me, and now he's going to hurt me to teach you a lesson. Why do you keep doing this, Astor? Why can't you just behave?"

I worry she's lost her mind or fallen to consumption, or my own growing concussion has clouded my mind. But as I glance at Lucille, expecting to share a glance that suggests Pauline's gone barmy, she clutches a hand to her throat and tells me herself.

"Pauline's pregnant. And the baby's Luca's."

The pain splits through my head, and I bend forward and vomit.