Chapter 60

                                    

                                          
I wake up peaceful.
I could be camping with Tommy, I could be in my bed back at the house. I could still be at the B&B with John.
It's not until my brain function kicks in once more that I begin to scream.
I'm tied to a chair in a dark room, concrete floor and walls. John's slumped unconscious in a chair just like mine, facing me, blood drenching his face and trickling to the ground. McGuffin sits beside him holding a gun, turning and admiring it thoughtfully in the dull light of one flickering bulb. 
"Quiet down," he orders, "or your boyfriend here will eat a bullet."
I pull against the ropes around my wrists and ankles. They cut into my skin and leave burns, and for all my attempts, they only feel tighter.
"I told you I would cooperate." My voice comes out tight through my throat, constricted in rage. "What the fuck is this?"
He grins, exposing several teeth of gold. "Well, you see, I don't have time to wait for you to make up your mind no more."
"It doesn't matter anyway," I say. "The Peaky Blinders will never give you what you want."
"Oh... these Peaky Blinders?" He asks, loading a bullet into the chamber and aiming at John. 
Hysteria rises in my chest. I can't let him hurt John. I'm in a blind panic at the thought, pulling desperately against my ropes. Only one thought goes through my mind — not John. Not John. 
"Don't," I say. "Don't shoot him, please, just tell me what you want."
"A signature," he says. He shrugs. "That's all I need. Your name on a bit of paper, and he'll go free."
I swallow. "And what about me?"
McGuffin tuts. "I'm afraid I'll need you to stay a bit longer. Just long enough for everyone to see you're my wife, and I'm entitled to your business. Can't have them doubting the marriage certificate, or I'd have just forged your name myself a long time ago."
Bile rises in my throat. "Go fuck yourself."
"Don't kid yourself, girl," he laughs. "You're not cut out to do what your father did. Sure, you're good with a gun, and you've got the Shelby's behind you, but that's a whole different game entirely. I'm handing you your early retirement on a silver platter. And, as my wife, I'll even pay you."
He twists the gun around between his fingers. He clearly seems to be deluded into thinking I'm taking this time to actually consider his offer — I have been rather quiet so far. 
Because I am sliding the ropes between my wrists back and forth across a splintered piece of wood on the chair back.
I can't feel anything give, can't even feel if it's working — but I have to do something.
I can't let John get hurt any further. 
"Will I have to live with you?" I ask. I need him to keep talking while I buy time.
"Of course," he says. "Doesn't every man and wife live together? But you'll be tied up, much like this. Until I know I can trust you."
I gulp. My shoulders are screaming in agony, the muscles of my arms burning, but I continue. "And if I refuse?"
His eyes are completely devoid of any emotion as he answers. "I'll torture him until you change your mind."
I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring the tears that fall. For a second, it crosses my mind that going with him might be the right thing to do. I've caused the Shelby's enough pain, and if I'm the reason they lose John, I'll never be able to live with myself. 
And I don't want to live in a world without John, I realise with a sob. He's my sun. The thought of his body, cold and lifeless, the thought of never hearing him laugh or seeing him smile again, comes crushing down on me like iron weights. It compresses my chest, squeezes my shoulders, and it's like I cannot breathe. 
His voice breaks through my grief. Quiet and distorted by swelling and blood, he says, "Don't do it, Bancroft. Don't you leave us again."
I open my eyes and his own are barely open, and decidedly unfocused, but he's awake. He's speaking to me. 
It's like sun breaking through storm clouds.