Astor // Arthur Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders

Chapter 50

Arthur

Arthur freezes, gin still spilling all over the dry grass from the bottles he's holding.

He can't believe it. At first, he doesn't believe it — thinking the lack of sleep and the worry have finally done in his brain.

But John stills beside him too, seeing the same thing. Clouds of dark smoke. Faint orange flames.

"John," Arthur says slowly. Every crevice of his face, lined with months of sleeplessness and worry, is illuminated in the glow. "Did you light the fire already?"

"That's not our fire," John replies in disbelief. "We didn't pour around that wing."

Dread settles in Arthur's stomach. "Fuck," he mutters, throwing the bottles to the floor, before turning and bellowing louder. "Fuck! Where's Tommy?"

John bolts into action at once, realising in the same moment as Arthur that this could ruin everything. You could be evacuated out a separate entrance before Ada can get to you. Or, worse yet, this fire won't be controlled like theirs was going to be. It could actually reach you before the staff realise anything is amiss.

"Tommy!" Arthur calls out as he runs down the bank behind John.

Tommy's face appears around the edge of the building, and then the rest of him, looking mildly annoyed. He lifts his hands into the air. "What is it?"

"Fire," John explains. "Not ours."

Tommy's face stills as he takes in John's words. Arthur glances at the building, fighting off the fight or flight overcoming him. The urge to do something, anything, something like running through the hospital and decapitating every person who stands in his way. But that won't get you back to him. So he clenches his teeth, and he thinks.

"How long until Ada raises the alarm?" He asks.

"Five on the dot," Tommy says. He checks his watch. "Not for another twenty fucking minutes."

"Then we go and find her," Arthur says.

Without waiting for an answer from either of his brothers, he storms around to the staff entrance to the building, where Ada was supposed to bring you. Arthur knows enough to work out where you'll be — he forced Ada to recite the entire layout and routines of the place to him last night. Just in case.

But as he enters the building, rather than going up the staircase to where you are, he smells smoke. Sees it, coming through a separate door. And he falters. Unable to tear his attention away from it, he changes course, heading straight towards the door and pushing through.

It's like he's being guided by an otherworldly force. A strong sensation deep in his gut, a certainty in the corners of his mind, that tell him to keep going along the corridor as the smoke gets thicker. Further and further. His fingers tighten around the gun in his pocket in anticipation.

And that's when it happens.

A face turns the corner. A face he's only seen in photographs Tommy showed round, so all the Peaky Blinders knew who to look for.

A tall figure, dressed entirely in black, tipping his hat low on his head as he leaves the scene of the fire.

Italian. Cross at his neck.

When Arthur sees Luca Changretta, he shoots on sight.

But he aims low. For the calf. His first shot doesn't hit, only sends a small flinch through Luca as he turns to see the shooter, and the loud blast of a gunshot through the clinical corridor. So Arthur shoots again, and then once more — christ, it's hard to hit a man in the legs — until Luca's fallen, clutching his leg in pain and releasing a hiss through his teeth.

"Arthur." John skids to a stop behind him. He takes in the scene, glaring at Luca in distaste but still focused. "We have to get Astor, come on."

"You get her," Arthur says in a low voice. "I know my girl. And she'd never forgive me if I let Luca go."

Arthur approaches Luca, barely noticing as John leaves. He feels like he's inhaled three bags of snow. Every muscle of his body is alight, every thought springing through his brain at a hundred miles an hour, lightning-fast flashes of daydreams of all the ways he could torture the man in front of him. The lightbulbs hanging from wires buzz in and out of working condition.

It's the first time Arthur's smiled since you were taken away.

"Arthur Shelby," Luca manages to say. He tries to recover himself. Looks Arthur in the eye. "The day has finally arrived."

"Before I kill you," Arthur says, bending down and pressing the barrel of his pistol to the underside of Luca's jaw. "Care to tell me why you're lighting a fucking fire?"

"You think I have not had people watching you, as you have tried to watch me?" Luca asks. His eyes and face betray the pain of the bullet in him, but not his fear. "Best idea you've had this entire time. Thought I'd try it out for myself."

"You're trying to fuck with us." Arthur knocks Luca's hat off and takes a fistful of hair, slamming his head back against the wall. The smoke's coming in thicker through the corridor now, so thick it burns his eyes and sticks in his chest. "I've had a long fucking time to think this through."

Arthur grabs Luca by the collar and drags him through the corridor, back to the way the American was coming from. Into the fire.

"Did you hear my wife's a complete fruitcake?" Luca asks, between strained breaths. "Doctors say her mind's scrambled for good."

Arthur's rage creates a thick barrier against Luca's words. Against the memory of Ada last night, whispering to Tommy, to Polly, then trying to warn Arthur what condition you might be in. Arthur pushed it away then, and he pushes it away now. It can't be true. You'll be faking it, you'll be outsmarting them.

He refuses to believe they've done you any permanent harm. If they have, there won't be a man or woman alive the whole planet over safe from his fury.

"Did you hear me?" Luca asks, with a shuddering cough.

Arthur can no longer discern the man's features through the thick clouds of smoke.

Not that it'll make much difference anyway.

He presses Luca's face into the steel door — the other side of which, is barely holding off his own flames.

Luca screams. The smell of burning flesh and fabric fills the air. Searing heat sends prickles of sweat all across Arthur's forehead, back, shoulders, and even as Luca tries to fight him off, he's immovable. Unrelenting. Only laughing as he hears, smells, the man's face burning and melting.

"Arthur!"

He hears John's voice, sets of footsteps. But Arthur's lost in rage, peeling Luca's face from the metal. He worries he's gone too far, that Luca might already be dead. There's no sign of life anywhere on him.

The footsteps come to a halt. John swears softly.

Then Arthur hears you scream.

He turns, and drops Luca to the ground half-forgotten. A shock runs through his whole body when he sees you through the smoke. Your face is gaunt and traumatised, your eyes full of terror. Wearing only a hospital gown and padded socks. He sees you try to run, to escape, and sees how easily John holds you back. Like you're no stronger than a child.

"Astor," Arthur whispers. Tears brim in his eyes that have nothing to do with the smoke. "Astor, we got him." He holds Luca out expectantly, like a prized gift.

Something inside of him breaks as you stare at Luca for a moment, not the faintest sign of recognition in your face. Then, you pull your gaze up to Arthur's and begin to tremble in fear. You say, "Don't come near me," and suddenly Arthur wouldn't care if the flames swallowed him whole.