Chapter 1

It was like any old day. The Garrison was engulfed in smoke and the whiskey was refreshingly smooth after the heavy air of Birmingham. The mix of muffled and loud chatter sounded almost melodic, especially compared to what went on in Tommy's mind.

His sister marrying off to his old friend, his deal with the copper, Kimber and his race, the Lee family, the guns...

Damn, the guns.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette as his brain worked hard to organise each thought. He could already see the various outcomes each situation could bring and had a backup plan for each. As he mulled over his ideas, counting for each possible mishap, he swirled the whiskey around in his mouth. Its citrusy taste lingered on his tongue.

'Hi, Harry!' Tommy heard a deep but unmistakably woman's voice coming from his left. She placed a package on the counter, but not before settling into the high stool.

'Hello, Ciara!' The bartender said cheerfully. 'To what do I owe your visit?'

The woman pushed the package closer to him. 'Mum's sending you this.'

Thomas scanned her without turning her direction. He was surprised to see that it was a young woman dressed in men's attire. The clothes were worn, but well-kept and slightly big on her (she extended her arm to adjust the length of the sleeve). Dark locks were secured into one long braid that rested on her shoulder. Her face was sunkissed, and her jaw sharp but her eyes, even from the side view he got on her, were mesmerising. She had no makeup on but her lashes were long and black. Her mouth curled into a small smirk as she replied to the bartender:

'Just half a pint, please. Do you have a cigarette?'

It was his cue. Thomas reflexively pulled out his cigarette pack to extend one towards the woman who shot a short glance at him.

'Thank you,' her voice sounded silvery, and took the cigarette offered to her. Tommy was quick to grab his matches and light the cigarette for her while Harry placed the half-filled glass on the counter. The bartender's movements were uncharacteristically slow; his eyes were fixed on the Shelby boy as if expecting trouble. But the girl, she wasn't bothered. She took the glass into her hand to take a sip and was about to ask Harry a question when Thomas finally spoke.

'I haven't seen you here before.'

She now turned to him fully and inspected the man. Immediately, as she explored his features, his chiseled face, his neat clothes, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he was.

'It's usually my brother who comes here,' she admitted.

'And rightfully so. It's no place for a woman like you.'

'Ciara, this is Thomas Shelby,' the bartender introduced him in a meaningful manner, hoping that it would disperse the conversation. And also, to give her a sign. Damn she better take the hint.

'Ciara McDowell,' she introduced herself politely, playing with the glass in her hand. Tommy took his hat off and nodded before putting it right back on his head. It was the first time they were face to face and he froze: her eyes were more alluring than he expected, a strange cross between green and brown. It was a dark forest he knew he could easily get lost in. He returned his attention to his own drink and swirled the whiskey around before downing it.

'Ciara, do you have anything to do this weekend?'

'Tommy, please, she's my cousin's daughter,' Harry pleaded as the worst he feared was happening in front of his eyes. Yet the man paid no attention to him. He raised his blue eyes to again match the woman's.

'I'd like to take you to the races.'

Ciara blushed as her whole body became fidgety. She had an odd feeling in her gut; although the man stated it as a demand, she felt a strange power given to her.

'No,' the bartender intervened again. 'I'm sorry, Tommy, but I can't allow that.'

'I trust she can make her own choices,' the Shelby boy said while holding the woman's gaze. This struck a chord with Ciara: little did Thomas know but she was confined to the wills and judgments of her family. Despite being in her late twenties, she was controlled by her parents and every step she made she had to do so with their blessing. Now she was presented with a situation she never had experienced: she could make her own decision.

And she was tired of 'no's.

'I'd love to.'

It was clear that after this Thomas was even less welcome in the Garrison than before. They headed out together to take a stroll around the smoke-covered streets of the city.

'You don't seem like the Devil,' she remarked.

'How did you expect I look like?'

'I don't know...' she shrugged. 'I suppose... I always heard tales about how witches had to kiss his rear face during rituals. I assumed his front must not be much prettier.'

'So you've expected me to have an arse for a face?' He joked.

'Well,' she chuckled, swinging her arms backward. 'Have to give it to you, you're easy on the eyes.'

'Aren't you afraid?' Tommy halted and she had to spin around to face him.

'Of what?'

'Of me.'

'Should I be?'

'Most people are.'

'Why aren't you scary, then?' she retorted. 'Most people say you should be.'

'I am.'

'Oh, yeah, I forgot you hide your horns under your hat,' Ciara nudged him and bit down on her lip.

'Apparently, I'm pretty good-looking even for that' he leant closer jokingly and took her arm to wrap around his as they began walking again. Ciara chuckled in response and her cheek turned redder from his closeness. Tommy's mouth stretched to a smile as he used this opportunity to take a better look at her features. She seemed almost pure and it felt as though she cleansed him, too. Of the shady business, of the cruelty, of the blood on his hands... of France.

His heart felt lighter and it was easy to breathe.

As their road lead them back to the Garrison, they stepped to Ciara's horse.

'Nice horse you got there,' Tommy stroked the animal's nose. It shook its head gently with a neigh.

'Tormaigh,' she said. 'Was an ill bastard and my father was against keeping him but I insisted. He's reliable most times, but... a bit sick in the mind. Nobody else likes to ride him.'

In all fairness, Thomas could tell, why. The horse was of visibly smaller build than it should have been, and the sicknesses it conquered left their mark on its body. Just a quick evaluation made him concerned about letting her ride this animal home.

'You like him,' he concluded.

'We grew up together,' she patted the horse's side. 'Nobody ever missed him from the farm so he was my partner in crime.'

Tommy grinned and helped her up her horse.

'When should I pick you up?'

'I think it'd be better if my parents didn't see you around the property,' she shook her head. 'My brother will drive me there.'

'See you at the races, then,' he nodded, gesturing with his hat and Ciara mirrored his movements mockingly before riding off.

Ciara had always been the 'good girl'. She walked on eggshells to keep her parents happy and did everything that was expected of her. She had grown to know her family so well, it was as if she could read minds - just to keep the peace. She always did her tasks on time and did her chores with utmost decency. She tried to avoid conflict, and maybe, just maybe; she hoped for praise. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to be seen.

Deep down, she was furious. She saw her parents shower her siblings with affection, siblings much younger than her, siblings who performed less than her. She saw other parents loving their children despite going to prison at a young age. She was furious that all her hard work went unnoticed, that all the sacrifices she made were taken for granted.

Because she made, and a lot. She abided by all her family's wishes putting her own wants on the back burner. She never stepped a toe out of line, just so that her parents would be proud of her.

Was her decision to go to the races with a Shelby boy something they'd be proud of? No. But it didn't matter. They wouldn't be proud of her if she bent over backward and did all they ever expected of her.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. It was freeing, exciting but also, it made her anxious. Especially when she thought of those sky-blue eyes.

They always told her that a man only had to be a shade less ugly than the devil. Well, the devil himself was stunning. Yes, he had a feral glimmer at the edges of his eyes, but so did every man who ever laid eyes on her. Only this time she felt safe.

She hopped into their family car with her brother behind the wheel. He was five years her junior, but he managed to copy their mother's disapproving face to the last eyebrow hair.

'Why am I taking you to Cheltenham again?'

'Because I'm the oldest and I told you so,' she closed the door.

After she was dropped off near the entrance of the races, Ciara smoothed down her dress anxiously. It was a mere day dress, almost a decade out of style. The delicate prints faded from the pastel green fabric. It hugged her figure even more closely since she last had it on two years ago. She felt silly to wear the small emerald earrings that were even older than her dress; even though she had always been in awe any time she saw them in her grandmother's box. It was the first time she put them on since her grandmother gifted them to her.

Her dark brown waves fell freely on her back and shoulders. She couldn't help but play with the loose strands when finally, she saw him.

Tommy Shelby looked more handsome than she remembered. He had no hat on, and the light gray suit folded over his body perfectly. Ciara took a couple seconds to stare at him from afar, admiring him without the man having any idea. Countless butterflies flapped around her stomach and she was about to head closer, when...

She noticed a red dress and the blonde woman who wore it. Ciara's heartbeat stopped. The girl wrapped her arm around Tommy's - and she was gorgeous: well-made hair, makeup, fashionable, bright clothes. She was tall and her legs slim and her eyes shone like sapphires, a much better match to the sea-coloured eyes Tommy had.

Ciara had to turn away as the butterflies morphed into acid.

She felt shame and an ice-cold feeling spread in her body. Poison was flowing in her veins, green and vile like the dress she was wearing. She took the cover of the near wall and as if it weren't enough, she shielded herself with her arms as best as she could. Something stung her eyes and they welled up.

She was stupid. What would a man like him want with her?

Ciara was coming up with escape plans: how can she get home fast, where can she hide, how to cover herself, how to disappear into non-existence...?

'What are you doing here, princess?'