𝒾𝓋. 𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎: overdue apology

                                    

                                          


ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : after hours - the weekend
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻


iv. twenty:  ❝overdue apology❞


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Small heath, Birmingham

Aside from Finn, who she sent off to play outside, telling him to keep himself busy with Tommy's motor at the garage, Marianna was dragged by Diego to the Shelbys' ransacked betting shop.
Marianna, Diego, Polly, Arthur, John, and Thomas stood amidst the wreckage, the once bustling shop now a scene of utter devastation, thanks to the bloody Lees. The air was thick with the acrid scent of overturned ink and scattered papers, mingling with the faintest whiff of betrayal.
She knelt beside Arthur, helping him clean up Scudboat's battered face. The Lees had done a right number on him, his face a canvas of blood and bruises. Arthur's hands were steady but the fury in his eyes was barely contained.
Wandering through the wreckage, her eyes taking in the destruction for what felt like the hundredth time. The familiar office furnishings of the Peaky Blinders were toppled over, books and account ledgers flung across the floor like discarded leaves. The day's takings had been swiped by whoever had dared to cross the Shelbys.
John, seething with rage, kicked a stool across the room, the clatter echoing through the silence. "Jesus Christ."
Arthur, his voice thick with barely restrained fury, turned to the bloodied blinder. "What the bloody hell happened here?"
Through the mess, Marianna caught sight of Thomas in the kitchen, his movements deliberate as he searched for something out of her line of sight. Her head throbbed, a familiar pain that brought tears to her eyes. The voices were there again, the spirits urging her to speak, to reveal what they were showing her.
"The Lees," she muttered, her gaze locking onto Thomas. "All of them—cousins, nephews, even the bastards."
Scudboat, nodding through his pain, confirmed her words. "Aye, all of 'em."
Polly caught her eye, her expression grim as she rifled through the scattered remains of the shop. "They've taken everything they could get their filthy hands on—four cash boxes."
As Thomas finally stepped into the gambling den, his voice cut through the tension like a blade, dangerously calm. "But they left these."
Marianna's head throbbed as she noticed everyone's eyes fixed on him. When she turned to see what he was holding, a fresh wave of pain shot through her temples. She stood by the left side of the door, gripping it for support.
"Wire cutters..." Polly murmured, her voice carrying a mix of confusion and dread.
"Why would they leave wire cutters?" Marianna asked, her brows knitting together in concern.