Lucia Shelby stared down at the tea cup that sat precariously on the corner of her husband's desk. She was less concerned with what Polly had read in those tea leaves, and more concerned by her parting words: There's much more suffering left to face. She knew it was a truth and that chilled her to the bone. Suffering came in all forms and intensities. There was emotional, physical, and mental suffering, suffering from the inability to accept the changes that arrived throughout life, and the suffering that sprang from how existence itself was dull, unsatisfactory, and ongoing. In her life, Lucia had been shot, stabbed, abandoned, manipulated and berated. She couldn't quite put her finger on what flavor of suffering she'd endured the most.

Though never one to linger in the troubles of the past, Lucia was still haunted by the briefest memories of it...the look on her father's face when she betrayed their family, the hatred in Tommy's eyes when he held his dead wife in his arms, the pieces of her father's skull and brain matter than clung to her blouse, the disappointment in her brother's voice when he saw her for the first time in 23 years. Those brief flashes of time were seared into the back of her eyelids. The harder she squeezed her eyes shut to forget, the more vivid those memories became.

She had run away from her family many times over during her life - running violently towards love, running desperately away from an advantageous marriage in America - and each time she looked up to search for a glimpse of light at the end of her darkest tunnels Thomas Shelby stood there, gesturing her through into a bright new world.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Shelby?"

Lucia looked away from the tea cup, and there he was: Thomas fuckin' Shelby, the light at the end of her tunnel. A long exhale passed between her lips and she waved him over to give her a pull of his cigarette. "This is going to be a disaster," she muttered, rubbing the corner of her brow, his cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.

Tommy didn't attempt to console her fears or belittle her anxieties. Her feelings were justified. Instead, he brushed the side of his coat to make sure the gun was still in its holster. Just in case. He plucked the tab from her lips and crushed it into the ashtray on his desk. "You ready?" He asked again.

Lucia squirmed at the question. Polly may have begrudgingly accepted her, but that left Arthur, Ada, Finn, Linda, Johnny Dogs, Charlie, Jeramiah, Isiah, and the woman who started it all, Lizzie Stark. She nodded in response to Tommy's question. She was as ready as she could possibly be. They stepped through the doors of his office and into the line of sight of the family, gathered around the same table she sat at as a child, the same table Polly had cleaned her stab wound as a young girl, and the same table the Shelby's rescued her from an arranged marriage as a woman.

While Lucia expected groans or scoffs of disgust from the family, they remained quiet. Polly must have told them, she thought. Disgust would have been infinitely better than the silence that filled the room. Lucia shrank into Tommy's shadow.

From the safety behind her husband, Lucia's gaze rested on Lizzie Stark and, for a moment, she understood why Angel had loved her. It had taken Lucia a very long time to accept Lizzie's innocence in the death of her family - the only thing she and Angel were guilty of was being in love. Lucia used to believe that love was bad for business, but here she was renamed to Mrs. Lucia Shelby fighting a vendetta against her own family. A bitter laugh started in her chest but the humor of it all dissipated when Tommy put his hand at the small of her back, guiding her out of the darkness… into a bright new world.

He had taken note of the unnatural non-reaction too. "Well," he began, "it'll come to no surprise that I've taken a wife. If anyone has any grievances, this is the time to voice it."

"John is dead." Arthur sharply said, refusing to look at the pair of them. "John is dead, and this is what you've decided to do? Without talking to your family."

Lucia fought against the stinging hurt that pressed against her chest. She hoped Arthur would be on her side. He usually always was. But, there was no denying how suspicious her sudden marriage to Tommy looked from outside observers. They all had a right to be wary of her.

The chair groaned as Ada stood and approached with arms open for an embrace which Lucia readily accepted. "We all knew it would happen. For years now. Lucia has always been more a Shelby than a Changretta."

"But a Changretta, all the same," Linda spoke up in favor of her husband.

"What did the tea leaves have to say about it, Pol?" Tommy finally asked after another uncomfortable silence.

With a strained sigh, Polly straightened herself in her seat. It was unlike her to have stayed silent for so long. "I'm not happy about this marriage," she admitted with a dismissive wave of a hand, "but since they were children, your mother has wanted them together. Seems Mary knew something nobody else did."

"And the tea leaves?" Tommy pressed.

Polly gave a long-suffering sigh and threw up her hands, giving up. "Their souls are connected. What happened was meant to happen." She didn't bother with the attempt to be convincing.

"Right." Tommy straightened his shoulders, "Now that that's settled, to business then. Michael and John were shot because we killed someone. Vincente Changretta."

Images of her father's face, his collapsed skull, his blood on her blouse passed through her eyes, and Lucia braced herself, the muscle in her jaw jumping from the tension she wrestled to stay in control of.

"His son Luca," Tommy quickly glanced toward Lucia, "has come to take revenge. Men from New York and Sicily are here in Birmingham. These men will not leave the city until our whole family is dead. That's how it works, an eye for an eye. It's called vendetta."

"Yeah, well," Arthur drawled, fishing through his pockets to hold out a bullet. "The bullet's been written. It says Luca. When the time comes, and it will come," he tilted his head to catch Lucia's attention. "Me as the oldest brother will put this bullet into his fuckin' head."

Lucia shifted restlessly where she stood, "But…" It should have been her to put a bullet in her brother's head. Vendetta or not, it should be family.

Though Tommy noticed Lucia's surprise, he decided to plow forward in addressing his family. He would settle it with her later. "Until this business is resolved. We stay here. Together. Small Heath, Bordesley, Hay Mills down to Greet."

Struck with anger by his apathetic nonresponse, Lucia chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from lashing out. The final bullet should be family. There was no rhyme or reason for it, but Lucia didn't want to see her older brother take his final breath with a Shelby bullet lodged in his brain - she couldn't wear the blood, brain, and skull of another man in her family. But there was no way for her to justify killing him herself. She wasn't that strong. She would have shown mercy.

"What if," Polly curiously began, "What if this is all part of their plan, and she," the smoky cigarette poised between her fingers jabbed the air in Lucia's direction, "is going to betray us?"

"That's a reasonable fear," Lucia spoke for the first time. "But," she shrugged off her coat and rolled up her sleeves to show the purpled bruises around her wrists and up her forearms from her fall, "But my brother wouldn't have tried to drown me in the Cut if he didn't think I would break my oath of omertà in loyalty to the Peaky Blinders." She pushed her sleeves back down to her wrist. "Luca is getting information on all of you from my mother. He knows you. But I know him. I know the lengths he's willing to go to. I know the lengths his button-men are willing to go to."

"And breaking this - this oath," Polly pressed forward in her attack, "what are we to benefit from it?"

"The most sacred duty I was entrusted with was to keep silent with the information I have overheard." Lucia's response was icy. "And that's what you need, isn't it? Information? Information on Luca, on his plans, on this blood feud."

"And how are you benefiting from this?"

"I'm not." Lucia snapped. "My brother gave me the kiss of death. I'm a dead man walking. My fate is tied to Luca's now. And if he doesn't kill me, someone else will." She threw her attention down to the floor and ended with a quiet promise, "I'll do whatever I can to help you win this."

Polly pursed her lips, satisfied.

"They are an organization of a different dimension. They'll have sub-machine guns - those fuckers can fire off close to 100 rounds in under a minute as far as 160 feet." Lucia warned, "My brother's men are professionals and they're good at what they do."

"So, we're going to need more than we have," her husband finished. "I sent a message to Aberama Gold."

Johnny Dog's snapped alert. "No! No, Tom!" He pleaded. "I'll get you fifty Lee boys. Good men, Tom!"

"I don't need good men, Johnny. For this I need bad men."

"Tommy, his people are fuckin' savages. You know? Heathens, Tom. They don't even let them in the fair, so they come and steal our horses. You know, stealing from their own, Tom!"

Polly almost threw her head back to laugh, pouring a large portion of whiskey into her glass. "So this is the plan, Thomas? A bullet with a name on it, help from a bunch of savages, information from the enemy's sister, your bloody wife?"

It felt like Lucia had been smacked in the face. Her eyebrows had furrowed in embarrassment. When Polly said it out loud, it all sounded ridiculous. Beside her, Tommy seemed to have been processing the same discomfort from Polly's words. He chewed on his bottom lips, eyes glued to the bullet Arthur had placed on the tabletop.

"We're going to go on the offensive." Lucia surprised herself by how commanding her voice sounded as the words left her lips. She was more courageous now that it was her turn to stand up for Tommy.

Polly threw her head back to bark out a laugh, whiskey dribbling over the rim of the glass she held and down her wrist. "They've been married for less than a day and this one thinks she can give orders."

"They have Thompsons, Colts, Smith and Wessons," Lucia's voice was growing louder and louder, slowly flooding into every corner of the room, "sawed off shotguns, and enough Molotov's to burn down all of Small Heath twice over. And if that isn't enough for you, they brought over two dozen 30 caliber Brownings from America that could tear apart a fucking horse!" She clamped her mouth shut, fuming, trying to steady her breath. All eyes were on her and all Lucia wanted to do was to retreat into the comfort of Tommy's shadow.

"And how is it that you know all this information?" Polly challenged, eyes narrowing.

"Luca told me."

"He told you?"

"Yes."

"Why would he tell you?"

"Because in his eyes, I'm already dead. He knows he has nothing to lose by telling me, and that I will lose everything. He's too confident. That is why we have to go on the offensive," she repeated it much softer, almost modestly as if it were an apology for her previous outburst.

Tommy watched her the whole time, hit by the thunderbolt once again by the same woman. Hovering a fresh cigarette in the air between his lips, Tommy recognized the same wild thing his mother had seen Lucia when they were children. "She's right," he pocketed the cigarette without lighting it. "The police are busy with the revolution and strikes, so we don't have enough pairs of eyes and ears to look out for the Sicilians. The coppers don't give a fuck about us. Which means that here today, in this room, we have to agree to end this war between us."

"Did your husband tell you what he did to us? Saved his own neck while coppers threw us into their trucks. Now he's asking us for peace."

"Careful, Pol." Lucia flatly said. "Bitterness doesn't suit you."

Tommy was more diligent in diverting the tension. "Let's take a vote."

Arthur started the count, "Peace." Ada, Charlie, Finn, Lizzie followed Arthur's lead.

"Since my son's not here to speak," Polly said, "I'll speak on behalf of us both. Truce."

Tommy turned. "Luc?"

Her eyebrow arched. "I'm allowed a vote?"

"No!" Polly snapped before Tommy could say yes. Consenting to Polly's judgement, Lucia nodded for Tommy to continue.

"Five for peace, two for truce, one abstention." He meant John. "Let's get on with the war." Turning on his heel, Tommy briskly returned to his office, leaving Lucia alone with his family.

Transferring his Bible to his opposite hand, Jeramiah was the first to approach her. He gave her an encouraging nod before filing out the door, Isiah close behind. Finn, still young but tall enough to not look the part, managed a weak smile. He wasn't the little boy who would eagerly wait for sweets anymore, Lucia thought. Charlie, Johnny Dogs, and Lizzie didn't say a word, but she hadn't expected them to and Polly had bypassed her entirely in favor of the stairs leading up to the parlor.

While Arthur also walked by without a glance, Linda leaned in to whisper, "come find me when you have a moment."

Lucia stepped backwards until her heels hit the wall. She was exhausted and prepared herself to face off with Ada who still hadn't left the table. "Thank you for supporting me earlier. I know how bad it all looks, but I love Tommy."

Ada nodded with the first warm smile Lucia had received since she got back. "I know you do. We're so similar, you and me."

"Are we?" Lucia questioned, filling the chair Arthur had left. She and Ada had been civil and friendly, at best, all the years they had known each other. They never had a chance to connect as young women but Lucia had always wanted a sister. And so did Ada.

"Nobody liked Freddie either. He caused too much trouble. But I loved him, and he loved me." Ada reached out across the table to take Lucia's hand, squeezing it the same way her mother used to. "I've seen the way Tommy has looked at you for years. And the way you look at him. I meant what I said. You've been more a Shelby than a Changretta all your life."

The window on the office door rattled as Tommy yanked it open. "Ada." He nodded at his sister before shifting his eyes over, tilting his head into his office. "Luc."

With a parting look towards Ada, Lucia stepped into the office. Tommy closed the door behind them and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow.

"After this is all over," he loosened the knot at his tie and pressed a kiss to her temple, "we should go back to Sicily. We should sit under the carob tree and Charlie could play with Noni's goats." He brushed his fingers along her collarbone, raising his eyes from her lips to say, "We could also try for another."

A smile quirked at the hairpin curves of Lucia's mouth. "I must be the first woman you've wanted to get pregnant on purpose."

"So, you'll think about it?"

"Aye," she nodded, still smiling, "I'll think about it."

Tommy took a moment to memorize her smile knowing he'd have to promptly wipe it off her face. "About Arthur."

As he anticipated, the serene look on his wife's features disappeared within seconds. "I said I wanted it to be me."

"It's tradition, Luc." He fished out the cigarette he had saved earlier and brought a flame to the end behind a cupped hand. "You have yours, and we have ours."

Her mouth hung open to voice an objection but no sound came out.

"Your brother knows you want to be the one to put a bullet in his head. And that means it can't be you." Tommy attempted to pull her into his arms but she briskly stepped away.

"I have to be the one to do this."

"No, you don't!"

"You can't always fight my battles with my family for me, Tommy!"

"What?" Tommy yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and squinted hard at her. "This isn't just about you, Luc! All of our heads are on your brother's chopping block, and you want to be the one to kill him, for what?"

"As a mercy," she stammered.

"Mercy?!" He shouted. "Mercy? No, mercy is reserved for family, Lucia, and your brother stopped being your family the moment he wanted to sell you into a marriage with a man over twice your age. Look at me." He caught hold of her hands and coaxed her closer. "I am your family. All of those people around the table," he thrust a finger out toward the kitchen, "they are your family. They have been your family for years. They might not like you now, but that doesn't change the fact that you are one of us."

Lucia, swallowing the hard lump that caught in her throat, relented under his piecing stare. "You're right," she cast her attention at the window behind his desk. It threw a soft glow of light into the room but not far enough to warm her cold hands. She was standing in the shadows where she wanted to be but it didn't feel as comfortable as before.

What was she without her family? She may have chosen the Shelbys, but she was a Changretta - her first breath of air was a lungful of Sicily, a daughter of its soil. Born in blood. She couldn't just walk away.

"I need time to think." She tugged her fingers out of her husband's grip, and reached for her coat. "About whether I want to bring a child into this world," she quickly muddled a clarification, rising up on her toes to kiss him goodbye. "I'll see you tonight?"

Tommy nodded and watched closely after her as she disappeared out of his sight.

Outside, Lucia firmly planted her feet on the sidewalk in front of 5 Watery Lane, bundled up against the cold, and began down the street to find her brother.

Preview for chapter 11:

"Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Shelby?"

"I wanted to apologize to you. About Angel."

AN: I've noticed a lot in the world that "family" has become a weapon of choice to justify emotional, mental, verbal, and physical abuse. More so than men, it feels as though we as women fall prey to it. So, writing this chapter from the perspective of Lucia trying to choose between the Shelbys and Changrettas, and Tommy telling her that she doesn't have to struggle with the decision at all, has been so illuminating into what many women in the world struggle with!

Anyways, thank you all for reading! I wanted to get one more chapter out before the new year! See you all in 2021 :D