THOMAS SHELBY HAS QUITE A FEW IRONS IN THE FIRE, and for the past months, these irons on his shoulder have been weighing him down. The IRA and that fucking Campbell, they were all shackles on his feet, and refusing them would have been suicide for the Shelby family—worst-case scenario, Mercedes would also get dragged into the mess. But he's Thomas Shelby, and being him means keeping everything and everyone together or else everything he'd worked hard for—the family had worked hard for would fall apart.
The wisp of his smoke trailed around the office and he watched it until it disappeared as he picked up the letter lying on the wooden table. Here he was, sitting on his office, contemplating whether he'd dial Grace Burgess or not, while Mercedes was trying to cling to her life and escape death. On the same night, the blinders who were supposed to keep an eye on Mercy were both thrown to jail for theft, Michael Gray was arrested for burning down the Marquis pub, and Arthur Shelby was framed for Billy Kitchen's murder.
He finally decided to do it after nearly a minute of thought and consideration, but as the other line answered his call, an image of the raven-haired woman flashed right before his eyes, as if she were standing right in front of him—it must have been the whiskey he was drinking or his guilty conscience that made him think of Mercy. "Fuck," he grumbled, slamming the phone handset down on the table.
This was wrong from the very beginning, calling that woman would meant consequences, and he's not prepared to face those consequences. If Mercy found out, who knows what she'd do to him—perhaps she'd leave him for good, which was the last thing he wanted. Mercedes de Silva was the glue that held him together, and without her, he'd crumble back down to the shattered remains of the war.
Thomas rested the back of his head against the chair, massaging his left temple as he felt the familiar electric pain behind his eyes. He needs Mercy, he wants Mercy next to him. She was his drug, and his addiction to her cannot be cured.
Suddenly, the door to his office was flung open and John stormed inside with an alarmed look, "Ada's been calling the fuck outta ya! Why the fuck ain't ya pickin' up the damned phone?" he exclaimed, inhaling sharply through his mouth. He was out of breath because he had been running from his house as soon as he heard from Ada that the de Silva woman was in a life or death situation.
Thomas shifted his gaze from his brother down to the telephone handset that's been facing the table the entire time, "What is it?" he asked in a calm manner yet a flickering wave of tension had already washed over him the moment John barged in with the alarmed look on his face.
"Mercy was attacked," as those words escaped John's mouth, it felt like his entire world crashed down on him. Thomas stared at John, unable to blink as the realization dawned on him, his lips pursed with rage. His jaw muscles clenched, and a hard knot constricted his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe.
In a blink of an eye, Thomas wore his shoulder holster and left the office in a rush, panicked pace. His heart stammered against his chest and the certain coldness crawled its way to his neck, Thomas kept on cursing under his breath as he gripped the steering wheel until his fingers turned pale and numb.
Mercedes was attacked and he was sure as hell that it was his fault, it's like what she told him the day Freddie was buried, "Mi alma, danger always follow a Shelby like a fucking a hound no matter where y'all go," and that fucking hound was now catching up to his lover. Thomas was dead set on finding that hound and ripping it from limb to limb with no mercy.
But, at the end of the day, it was him—Thomas Shelby was the hound that brought danger to Mercedes, and no matter how hard he tries to deny it, he has to swallow the bitter pill of truth.
Was it Darby Sabini? The IRA? Chester Campbell? He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down but as soon as he visualized Mercy lying on the hospital bed, pale and lifeless, blazing flames of anger licked through him. His stomach churned at the thought of her dying, my sweet angel... He made a promise to himself that night, and that is the person behind the attack would pay and they would never leave this world unscathed.
As he hurriedly drove to Primrose Hill, two questions began to drift inside his mind. How many times did I put her in danger? How many times will I put her in danger? The idea of giving up this life for her was something that often crosses his mind—to live the life she always wanted them to have, it was a tempting idea but he just can't, he doesn't want to. Thomas gave his entire life for this, risked everything for it, and he will never let it go to waste.
Thomas Shelby loves her, but not enough to abandon the life he has created for his family—the life he has always desired.
"How is she?" he frantically asked as soon as he saw his sister, Ada, who's sitting next to sleeping Karl and Soledad. "What took you so long?" she rose to her feet, asking back in a hushed tone instead of answering his question.
"Just fucking answer me, Ada!" he didn't mean to raise his voice at his sister or to lose his temper and composure, but he'd been worked up ever since John dropped the terrible news to him. The children flinched at the sudden noise but returned to their sleep making the Thorne woman huffed, she rolled her eyes back, "She's stable for now but she won't wake up...the doctors said it was a miracle that the knife didn't hit any vital organs and she was lucky that Noah brought her here before she could die from blood loss.
Thomas let out a sigh of relief, truthfully speaking, by the time he reached the hospital, he'd been wanting to drop on his knees just thinking about Mercy fighting for her life with no guarantee that she'd survive the night. But it was just him and his sister now, Ada couldn't remember the last time she gave his older brother a hug, maybe back on her 12th birthday? Maybe when Thomas bought her The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as a Christmas gift in 1911? Maybe when Thomas bailed her late husband out? She couldn't remember, but she knew he needed it so she did. She pulled him into a hug that Thomas never thought he'd receive again after the gaping void between them.
Somewhere in his heart, he felt warm despite the numbing cold of the tragic event that Mercy faced. "Can I see her?" he wondered aloud as he pulled away from the hug, straightening his suit and clearing his throat.
"Tomorrow, Thomas. Tomorrow," Ada replied in a stern manner, her gaze setting back to the children, "Take them and go home, I'll stay here," he said as he took a quick glance to them, they looked awfully uncomfortable sleeping on the benches and it's already past 1 A.M.
Ada briefly shook her head, "Soli wants to stay, she'd be at peace when she'll see her sister wakes up," she explained, sitting back next to Karl.
Thomas nodded, "Alright, just take Karl and go home. Look at my poor nephew, we don't want him having back pain when he grows old, yeah?" he shrugged his shoulders off before his gaze fell to Soledad, "I'll check if there's a vacant room for her so she can sleep comfortably," he added and began to walk away from them.
Of course, the doctors and nurses at St. John's and St. Mary's were well aware of Thomas Shelby's identity, and they couldn't possibly turn down his request to use the vacant room next to Mercy's. Four blinders arrived shortly before Ada could return home, and Thomas instructed that two of them would accompany his sister and nephew back home, while the other two would remain on the lookout for potential enemies.
He carefully laid Soledad on the bed, tucking her in the white thin blanket. She looked tired from too much crying as the lower parts of her eyes were both puffy and reddish. Thomas asked the doctors that operated on Mercy if he could stay in her room and they reluctantly gave him permission to do so. As he was about to leave the room, a small hand tugged on the hem of his sleeves.
"Tommy?" her voice cracked, eyes slowly opening and adjusting to the light of the room. "Yes?" he asked in a soft tone, turning his body to face the girl. Soledad released her hold on him and sat on the bed, knees pulled closer to her. She paused for a minute as if gathering her thoughts, "Are you hungry? You want something to eat?" he asked but she just shook her head.
Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, "Alright, can I ask something?" he spoke in a calm manner, earning a small nod from her. "Did Noah tell you where he was going?"
Noah was the one who discovered Mercy, and he may have information about who attacked her however, Thomas already has several suspects in mind. He wanted to be as rational as possible—he didn't want to make rash decisions that he would later come to regret. He needed assurances and confirmations.
"He said he had important matters to attend to, but he didn't say where he was going," Sol responded and that's when she inhaled through her nose sharply, "It's my turn to ask, right?" Thomas furrowed his brows but still bobbed his head.
Soledad de Silva finally gathered her thoughts.
"Why did you let this happen to my sister?" she asked flatly, her venomous little eyes bored into him, "You know that she's the only one I have left in this world, right?" Soledad added as she pressed her lips together until it formed a straight line. Thomas' eyes darkened with the shadows of guilt and shame—it almost felt as if he had betrayed the de Silva girl by failing to keep the promise he made to her not long ago that he would look after her sister.
"I know...this will never happen again," Thomas replied, "I think I messed up this time," his mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he removed his cap, placing it right above his lap.
"Yes, Tommy, you did," her bluntness made him choke on his saliva, a low chuckle escaped his lips, "My sister almost died tonight," Soledad continued, wiping away the small smile that was etched on Thomas' face.
"I won't let that happen again, Soli. You know that...I'll make them pay—whoever did this to your sister, I'll bury them six feet under," Thomas replied, his words laced with spite, the tensing of the jaw betrayed his deep frustration.
Soledad lifted one of her eyebrows, "Noah told me that my sister's bag was missing, said she was robbed. That's plain bullshit, right? I'm not estúpida, not even inocente. I know what's happening around me, I know what's the deal with you and your business," she spat in a guttural rasp, "One of your enemies did this, right?"
Thomas couldn't bring himself to answer her question, instead, he just shifted his eyes away from her and stared at the open window. He clenched his fists as he felt Sol's piercing and scorching gaze on his side. Thomas stood up, "Sleep, girl. I'll let you know as soon as your sister wakes up," he said and wore his hat back.
Another question escaped her mouth, but this time, it will forever haunt him for the rest of his life, "Why does my sister have to pay for your sins?"
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