[1. Torn]

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Tommy POV ~

"In this town of glass and ice."

She's gone. She's fucking gone. We were married only a few fucking days, and she's shot down because of me. I killed her. It was my fault I gave her that cursed Russian jewl.

Tommy slams his hands against the desk, letting the ciggarette he lit fall out of his mouth. Warm tears run down his soft face, as he slowly slumps down into his chair. He rummages around his desk, in the dark, for his half drunk bottle of whiskey; only the dull moonlight shining on it.

Grabbing a glass, the dark substance floods the space, he brings it up to his plump pink lips and waits for it to hit him. It runs down his throat and in this very moment it takes over. All the pain drifts away. Grace drifts away.

                     ✞

"Mr Shelby?" The houses maid slowly opens the door to his office, only peeking her head around the corner. She notices the smashed glasses and many sheets of paper scattered across the floor. A sleeping Tom lies in his chair: whiskey and a lighter in front of him. "Mr Shelby, your brothers are here sir?" His eyes begin to flutter open.

"Tell 'em to fuck off."

"They told me it was urgent sir. Business I suppose," She says trying to show a faint smile.

He stands up and turns to look out the window, looking around he sees an extra car in the drive. A bentley. Theoretically this has to be an important person, but only a foolish one would drive around Birmingham in one of them.

"Send 'em in." And as quick as the maid left Arthur and John entered. Two heavy footsteps made their way in front of the desk and Tommy turned around. Silence. An awkward kind of silence that no one wanted to be the first to break. But obviously Arthur did.

"Oi Tom we--" He was broken of by John stepping on his foot.

"How are you Tommy?" John stuttered, scared to push his brother over the edge.

This was the first time Tommy had spoken to someone in three weeks, and he wasn't shouting or smashing something. Still standing towards the window he swung himself around and looked his younger brother straight in the face.

"I didn't invite you in 'ere to tell you what you already know, so fuckin' spit out what you got to say." The brothers looked at each other.

"Well firstly the Solomons send their condolences and so do the Lees," Tommy gestured him to carry on. "So ya see we've got some business on our hands we thought we better get your consent first. It involves the Russians they finally 'ave an offer," Arthur shifts in his chair waiting for Tommys reply.

"So come on boys whats the offer your so frightened of?" The sarcasm is present in his voice. Walking over to the table he prepares himself a drink, and downs it in one so he repeats. Arthur nods at John signalling him to spill the news.

"The Russians want weapons Tommy and lots of 'em," John said the tension in the room building. "Fuckin' Russians Tommy."

"So what they want weapons, we want money it's a win win," He says loudly finishing a third drink. Arthur stood up from where he was sitting and threw Tommy a folder.

"It's more complicated than that Tom, the people they are working with, they need it to be discreet and a quick transfer all the information's in there." Tommy opened the folder he had pointed to and flicked through the detailed pages. Nodding he looked up at them again.

"Give 'em what they want, and get me as much money as we fucking can."

"Tom the Russians want to see you--" Arthur was yet again cut off.

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