Thomas took me alone.
Still cuffed, still in his sister's dress, he took me to the docks. I didn't even get to say goodbye to John. One thing I knew for certain — I would not go down without a fight.
I waited until we were stood before the water. I waited for Tommy to reach into his coat pocket for the pistol I knew he carried. There was nobody else around so early in the morning. I wondered if he'd called ahead to make sure we'd be alone.
To make sure he'd make a clean kill.
I'd played nice for long enough. I continued the ruse until the very last second, when that hand reached into his pocket. I wouldn't let him pull the gun on me. If my father had taught me anything, it was to grab the gun before it was aiming at your own head.
I lurched forward and grasped in his pocket with my cuffed hands, shoving him as hard as I could with my shoulder, the element of surprise earning me valuable milliseconds to grasp my fingers around the cool metal. I pulled it out and moved back quickly, so Tommy couldn't retaliate, and aimed the gun at his head. My chest heaved with anger and effort. Tommy's anger quickly turned to calm as he raised a hand, moving slowly, carefully.
"Get on your fucking knees," I spat, still aiming the gun with my cuffed hands. "Now."
Tommy eyed me for a moment before slowly obeying. Adrenaline coarsed through me at the sight of Tommy Shelby on his knees by the docks, completely subservient, completely under my command while I held his gun.
"You fucked with the wrong Kimber," I warned him. "My father is an impatient man. He makes his kills quick. I prefer to draw them out."
"Why are you going to kill me?" Tommy asked. "I'm offering you eternal life. Or the closest thing to it."
He drew a hand into his coat pocket once more.
"Don't move, or I swear to fucking god, I'll kill you!" I shouted, loading a bullet into the chamber.
"I was never going to shoot you," he said. He pulled out paper and money. Lots of it.
"What the fuck is that?"
"A ticket to New York. Enough money for a house. A maid, even. For your trouble."
I scoffed. "So you think you can just buy my silence? Lie to my father that I'm dead?"
"I did it for you," he said. Quietly, earnestly. "Your father hasn't even tried to free you. I thought you'd want a new life."
"You know nothing about me," I snapped. "I'm more than just my father. More than Kimber's daughter."
"What do you want, then?" He asked, voice sharp once more. "Tell me what it is."
My hands shook in fury. I wanted a house. I wanted a horse. I wanted a normal life, away from my father and his rules. So why did I hesitate? Why did the piece of paper in Thomas Shelby's hands feel more like a prison sentence than a paradise?
I lowered the gun and sucked in a shaky inhale. "Right now, I want a drink."
Tommy nodded. "Okay."
"Uncuff me," I ordered. "And I keep the gun," I added, as he rose to his feet. "Try anything, Shelby, and I'll blow your fucking kneecaps off."
He unlocked the handcuffs, the scent of his cologne too close and too intoxicating. "Keep talking like that and we'll make a Blinder of you yet, Kimber."
"I'd sooner put the pistol to my own head."
Only as we walked to the garrison did I realise I hadn't been able to make eye contact when I said it.