Lucia Changretta stared out to the foggy streets of Small Heath. It was hours until dawn and she hadn't slept a wink since John's funeral days earlier. Though Michael was recovering from his wounds in hospital, Polly Gray didn't miss any chances to spit curses toward Lucia through the house. The loving mother-figure role that Polly used to be had disappeared. And Lucia understood. She was no longer a replacement child for Polly. Polly had her son - there was nobody else more important than him in her eyes.

So, while Tommy went out on business, Lucia spent her sleepless days following close behind Charlie, falling into a loving motherly role. It was the role meant for Italian women: to be wives, mothers, and sisters. Nothing more and nothing less. Vincente Changretta held a soft spot for his daughter - allowing her to live away from the family with a healthy allowance of money - but with this freedom came an even stronger expectation to repay in duty and obligation. He had expected Lucia to seal a family alliance with the Shelby's since she was so keen on jumping in bed with Tommy. When she failed to do so, her role was reduced to marry, procreate, and stay silent with whatever secrets she knew of the family business.

But Lucia could never be just a wife, mother, and sister. She could never be happy benefiting from a system where her duty was silence. Inaction. Stagnation.

She had been attracted to Tommy Shelby because when he looked at her he didn't see a wife and mother; he saw a wild thing. He saw a wild thing and he was happy to set her loose. With him, Lucia was free. She could just be. He had given her the chance to exist without the pressures of fitting a traditional role passed down from generation to generation, following a set of guidelines that, if followed, would keep you in the safe folds of real family. A family born in blood and bound by it. Even in the Cosa Nostra, the Sicilian Mafia, family was the value which held the most importance above all else. It meant sacrifice, loyalty, trust. It still meant something to the proud Sicilians on the streets of Birmingham.

The Cosa Nostra had many rules: You had to be loyal to your Don and your fellow brothers within the organization. You had to be rational; don't catch a fight you can't win. You had to keep your honor. You had to show courage and strength in the face of adversity - 'if you can't pay, don't play', Vincente always said. You had to be street-smart; have some class. And finally, you had to keep the oath of silence, omertà.

While women, sweet and incapable of following through with the vigorous business of the Cosa Nostra as they are, were excluded from these rules, Lucia had kept it in her heart anyways. Once you become a man of honor, there was no going back, no leaving the life you swore yourself to, no breaking the vows of silence. Lucia, born into the Cosa Nostra, had taken her vows when she drew her first breath out from her mother's womb in the foothills of Sicily. She was the daughter of its soil, after all.

But the moment Lucia had invited Tommy Shelby under her little cottage on the hills over the Tyrrhenian Sea, she had broken those vows.

Lucia Changretta stared through the fog for so long that she didn't realize Tommy was studying her profile from where he lay on the bed. He sat up, careful not to wake Charlie, and instinctively reached for his cigarette tin.

"It's too early to smoke," Lucia gently dissuaded from where she stood.

Tommy's hand dropped to his side. "It's too early for you to be awake." He hoped to pull a curl of annoyance across her pursed lips. When she didn't react, standing still and solemn, he joined her by the window. His fingers grazed over the warmth of her stomach under her thin sleeping gown. He coiled a comforting arm around her waist and tucked his chin against the curve of her shoulder. "What are you thinking so hard about?"

"About how this is all going to end."

"And how will it all end?"

"Badly."

Settling into another silence, Lucia slowly guided him into a chair at one side of the room. Taking his gun and knife from the bedside table, Lucia reverently placed both weapons into each of his hands and sat on her heels before him.

Tommy watched closely as she pricked the tip of her finger with the blade and dropped a bead of blood on the gun and on the knife. "This blood," she earnestly looked up to his eyes, "means that we are now one Family. We will live by the gun and the knife and we will die by the gun and the knife. Sono tuo, furiosamente e per sempre. I'm yours, furiously and forever."

It was an oath of loyalty, love, and marriage all in one. She was renewing her vows, realigning her allegiance.

"Tommy," his name left her parted lips like a wisp of cloud. "Luca will fight this vendetta with honor. But he and I have unfinished business - hey! Look at me." Tommy shifted uncomfortably in the chair and Lucia forced his attention back to her. "My brother and I have business. When he comes to you today, tomorrow, whenever - and he will come to you - you tell him," her face grew serious, "that it's going to me. Not you. Not Arthur. Not Polly. Me."

Just as Lucia said, Luca Changretta did come swaggering into Tommy's factory office standing tall in his immaculately tailored suit. Tommy squared his shoulders to study the resemblance the man standing before him held with Lucia - The hair, the eyes, the quiet dignity in every step. The same ferocity flickered in the eyes of the Changretta's.

"How's my sister?" Luca drawled as he took a seat at the head of the long table.

"My wife," Tommy noticed the quirk of Luca's eyebrows at his words, "is happy and she's safe."

Luca mused a moment before standing, adjusting the lapels of his suit carefully. "She'll make a good wife. Quiet, obedient, passive."

"You don't know your sister." A rankle of pride spread across Tommy's face. He couldn't help but snort at the notion. Loud, rowdy, and fierce are the words Tommy would have used.

Luca feigned amusement but his face hardened and the line between his eyes deepened. "Instead of sending you a black hand, I could've had you killed in the night. I wanna suggest to you that we fight this vendetta with honor."

Tommy nodded in agreement. "No civilians. No children."

"No police." Luca buttoned his jacket and tilted his head in inquiry. "Did Luci tell you it would be her? She's never killed a man before. How could she put a bullet through my head?"

Tommy was careful not to counter the slight. Lucia would no longer be a civilian if her brother knew she slit the throat of one of her brother's men. That information stayed between them.

Barking a baleful laugh at Tommy's grim silence, Luca finished, "I know my sister. And she knows how this vendetta will end. I'm seeing her now. We have an agreement."

When the door to his office rattled shut, Tommy released the heavy breath he had held in for the entire encounter. He quickly threw on his coat and ran to his car. Rushing to Watery Lane, the house was quiet when he entered. He veered past the empty chairs and tables calling Lucia's name, ascending up the stairs to his room. Panic began to set in when he found no one.

"Charlie!" The silence was deafening.

Frantic now, Tommy flew out the door and almost bashed Arthur's door off its hinges. It was Linda who answered.

"Where's Charlie?"

"Out back with Ada and Karl," she adjusted her own child on her hip.

"And Lucia?"

A deep line of concern set on Linda's face. Though she wasn't happy with the Peaky Blinders or how Lucia's presence increased the threat to the family, even she could see Lucia was a victim in the vendetta "She left in a hurry. Said she had business on Wolseley Street. She left hours ago." Linda called to his back when he hurried toward his car, "What's wrong?"

"They're coming for her!"

Lucia dangled her legs over the edge of the Cut, cigarette in hand, and watched her breath escape in a puff of cloud. She knew her brother would find her. He had been watching her since she lived in Sicily. His men were always hiding around the corner and peering over newspapers. Revenge was inevitable, but Lucia didn't anticipate her brother would strike as soon as she came back. She would have done the same if she had been born a man.

After almost two hours smoking through her tin of cigarettes, Lucia heard brisk footsteps against the cobblestone approaching her. She didn't look back. "Are you going to shoot me? You might as well. I'm right here."

The footsteps stopped close behind and her brother's low voice echoed down the canals. It sent chills down to the base of her spine. "Our mother forbade it. Plus, no matter what you did, you're still family."

She laughed bitterly and twisted back. "You don't believe that. Nobody has believed that."

"Sorellina," Luca grinned down the curve of nose at her, sweeter than molasses. Baby sister. He extended his arms out and waited for her to step into his embrace.

Incredulously, Lucia tamped her cigarette under her heel and greeted her brother with a kiss on each cheek. "You sound different."

"Well," Luca made a dismissive gesture with his hand, dragging his words out like he had all the time in the world, "I've been in America for a very long time."

"And is America the land of milk and honey like they say?"

Luca raised a finger knowingly. "It's a land of opportunity. There's good money to be made in bootlegging. You should have come with me all those years ago. There are good men from good Sicilian families. But you threw that all away, for what, Luci? A fuckin' gypsy?"

Scoffing, Lucia took a step back and searched her older brother's eyes. "You didn't come here to lecture me on my life choices. So, just get it over with, Luca. You're not going to kill me, so guilt me into killing myself, eh?"

He stayed silent a moment too long for comfort so Lucia plowed forward to fill the empty air between them.

"If you were here, you would have done the same thing, Luca. You wouldn't have allowed Angel to walk the town with a woman like Lizzie Stark, and you wouldn't have let him go to Thomas Shelby's wedding! Papà didn't listen to me and that is why he is dead!" Lucia was angry now and didn't try to hide it. She was angerier still by how calm and composed her older brother remained. "We walked into a fight that destroyed our family - a fight we knew we would lose - all because Angel imagined himself in love. He and papà weren't weren't rational! We were taught never to fall into a fight we couldn't win. I went to the Shelbys because I would rather Angel's heart break than our family disappear. So don't you dare tell me I betrayed you."

Luca considered what she had said and finally nodded in agreement. "I would have done the same. That, I can forgive. But," his voice grew darker, "you're in bed with Tommy Shelby. You've bound yourself to him in blood. And that I cannot forgive." He walked up to her, fishing through his pockets, "I have five bullets left. I'm coming for the rest of them, sorellina. Ada Thorne, Polly Gray, Michael Gray, Arthur Shelby and," he showed her the single remaining bullet in the palm of his hand, "Tommy Shelby will be last. Our mother said that is what will hurt him the most." Luca looked over her head to scan the canals. "Give me your hands, little Luci."

Lucia leaned away from her brother but he grabbed her wrists and began binding them together with a rope. "Luca." Her voice was soft and tentative. She was frightened.

Before Luca Changretta could turn his sister to face the man she loved, he squeezed her jaw between his fingers, his brown eyes gleaming with the same pointed ferocity Tommy had noticed earlier, and pressed a hard kiss on her cheek.

Lucia went pale. "No," she stumbled back from him. "No, no, no. Luca!"

Luca clamped his hands down on her shoulders and wheeled his sister around forcefully so she could watch Tommy come to an abrupt halt, gun drawn, white in the face by the gesture they had all witnessed. It was the kiss of death.

A sob caught in Lucia's throat when she met his eyes. "Tommy!"

"We agreed, no civilians!"

"She's no civilian!" Luca countered, shoving his sister closer to the edge of the canal.

That stopped Tommy in his tracks. He held his hands up and lowered his gun to the ground, kicking it toward Luca in surrender. "There, I'm not armed. Now let her go."

"This is a family matter."

Despite Lucia fighting against her brother's grip, he held her tightly. She was pulled closer and closer to the edge of the water, anxiously peering down into the darkness.

"Whatever business you have with her, concerns me. She's a Shelby now." Tommy bit his tongue the moment the words flew out.

A wild smirk spread across Luca's face. That was what he wanted to hear. With little effort, Luca Changretta shoved his sister, hands bound, into the Cut.

For Lucia, the seconds before hitting the water was the worst. She couldn't scream. If she had, water would have filled her belly faster. On her descent, Lucia saw her brother defiantly standing in place while Tommy lunged forward. Then she was submerged, suspended. The water had roared past her ears and pressed her deeper down into the Cut. She didn't want to open her eyes. She was too afraid to see all the bodies rotting at the bottom.

Desperately kicking her legs and using her bound arms to reach the surface, Lucia was running out of air. Her lungs began to hurt from the effort. The squirming to loosen the rope around her wrists made it more difficult to breathe. There was just more and more water above as there was below. Lucia was panicking and praying, waiting for Tommy to jump down to her rescue.

Seconds felt like hours. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't reach the surface. Air was running out. Lucia didn't dare to open her mouth - but her eyes slowly opened. The water was black. She had sunk too deep for the light to guide her up.

Her vision dimmed, and the sound of the water against her ears disappeared. There was only a deafening ringing. She couldn't fight anymore.

As her vision blurred and faded into the light, Lucia dreamed of Sicily. The warm sun, the cool waves. Tommy, under the carob tree. She thought of waking up next to him, walking through the dewy garden barefoot, scolding the goats...but those dreams faded until all she saw was white.

Tommy eyes were glued to the unsettled water where Lucia disappeared. He was waiting, praying for her head to break the surface. He had thrown off his coat the second she fell, but Luca quickly snatched the gun from the ground and aimed it at Tommy.

"I'll let you get her." Luca was casual. "You're going to be alive long enough to watch me pick your family off one by one. But Lucia, she'll watch you take a bullet to the head. We are an organization of a different dimension. And my sister went against the Family. It doesn't matter who you are - born in blood, bound in blood, if you turn your back to the Cosa Nostra, you're spent." He threw the gun into the water with a lazy toss. "Go save your wife while she still has a chance to survive, Mr. Shelby."

Tommy Shelby did not wait for Luca to be out of sight before diving down into the Cut. The water was murky and the sun didn't reach very far. His arms fanned the cold water for her. He continued deeper, desperately trying to squint through the dark water to catch any sight of her. The air supply in his lungs quickly depleted the further down he forced his body to go. Unable to hold his breath any longer. Tommy plunged up to the surface, greedily sucking in air before submerging himself again. His arms, numb with cold, fought against the pressure.

Just as he was about to succumb to the temptation to get more air, his hand hit Lucia's floating body. Holding on tight, he used his last breath to swim up toward the surface. The cold December wind blanketed him, sending aches down Tommy's wet body.

"Come on, Luc," Tommy held onto her arm as he climbed back up to the cobblestone and yanked her up. "You're okay, love." He laid her out and patted her face, hoping it would be enough. Tommy overlaid his hands atop the other and pressed down on her chest - just as he had seen medics do during the war. "We have a long way to go, Luc. Please don't leave me." He leaned down to blow air into her mouth.

With a sudden heave, Lucia nearly fell back into the water as she rolled over gasping and coughing for air. Tommy grabbed her waist just in time and pulled her against him. "You're safe. You're okay."

Lucia looked up at him, shuddering as a barrel of wind blew through the narrow canals. She couldn't talk yet. The taste of the Cut was still in her mouth. Tommy lifted her up, wrapped her in his coat, and slowly started toward his car.

"We'll get you warm, yeah?"

"Yeah." The word hardly passed between her stiff lips.

Tommy helped her into the passenger seat of his Bently and hurried to avoid the wind that chilled him down to the bone. Looking over at Lucia, shivering and quiet beside him, he reached out to wipe beads of water from the long strands of her hair.

"We might be dead by tomorrow, so I want you to marry me today, Tommy Shelby."

Tommy searched her eyes to make sure she was serious.

The vehicle lurched forward and soon they drove down the roads of Birmingham. They found Jeremiah Jesus and came to a stop in front of St. Michael's on Moor Street. Tommy Shelby and Lucia Changretta stood at the atler soaking wet, their hands both shaking from the walk into the warm church. It was a solemn occasion, and Jeremiah did not bother with the niceties. There was no 'dearly beloved' or 'we've gathered here together to honor this couple's love.'

Tommy looked across the altar at the woman he was about to marry. Her wet hair clung to her throat. It wasn't how he imagined their marriage happening. Lucia should have been in white lace, plumerias decorated in her black hair. Before their reception, he wouldn't have had to remind Arthur, Finn, Isiah, or Johnny Dogs not to fight - because Lucia would have thrown the first punch herself. There wouldn't be any celebration to begin their marriage. Only impending death.

Lucia took the well worn Bible from Jeremiah's hands and leafed through the pages. She wasn't going to waste time with "love is patient, love is kind" or "love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." She looked up at the man she was about to marry and read aloud.

"'Set me as a seal over your heart, as a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy as enduring as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the LORD. Mighty waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot drown it. If a man would give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.'"

"Do you, Thomas Michael Shelby, take Lucia Apollonia Changretta to be your lawful wedded -"

Tommy lifted a hand to stop Jeremiah before he could finish. It doesn't matter who you are - born in blood, bound in blood, if you turn your back to the Cosa Nostra, you're spent, Luca had said.

Reaching into his pocket, just as Lucia had done years ago by the same waters he had just pulled her from, Tommy brought out his knife. He pressed his thumb into the blade hard enough to draw blood and held it out to Lucia. She stared down at the knife then back up to Tommy, mouth agape. If death was in their future, they would die together.

It was an oath of loyalty, love, and marriage all in one.

"Bound in blood," he lifted her arm and stained her bottom lip with his blood, "you'll be my wife."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Lucia swiped her thumb along his lips and whispered back, "Bound in blood, you'll be my husband."

He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. All those years of waiting had arrived and, as they tasted the blood on each other's tongue, Tommy and Lucia finally caught up to fate. They finally stood where they were always meant to be: right next to each other.