"Mr. Shelby!" a child's voice yelled from behind him. Thomas Shelby paused his step and lowered his cigarette and turned to see a young boy, about ten, come rushing toward him in a hurry.

"Mr. Shelby!" the lad called again, skidding to a stop in front of him.

Thomas gave the lad a moment to catch his breath, eyeing him curiously.

"Polly Grey says you're needed at home!" the lad exclaimed before running back in the opposite direction.

Thomas sighed, shaking his head. There wasn't any telling what happened. He twisted his body to turn back toward Watery Lane. As he walked, people scurried away from him, leaving him a wide path to stroll toward the Shelby house.

Minutes later, he saw the front door to the house open as Polly met him outside.

"Arthur's been injured. Grab a bottle of whiskey," she instructed, slamming the door in his face.

Thomas scowled at the door but dutifully turned around to make his way toward the Garrison. As he walked, he realized she didn't give him any information about how Arthur was injured.

He entered the Garrison, slipping into the private room he used. Thomas pushed the small double door open, seeing Grace.

"Bottle of whiskey," he said, tossing a few coins on the worn wooden counter.

"Scottish or Irish?" she asked, turning away from him to reach for a bottle.

"Doesn't matter," he replied quickly, hoping she would move faster.

When she placed a full unopened bottle in front of him, he snatched it and rushed out of the Garrison. He quickened his step toward Watery Lane.

His mind fairly occupied with the state of his older brother that he didn't smell the one person he didn't want to talk to. As he entered the house, he could hear his brother groan in pain. Untwisting the bottle, he handed it to Arthur, who snatched it and pushed the bottle to his lips.

"What's she doing here?" He demanded, seeing Maze tending to Arthur's injuries.

Polly rolled her head to him, "She's a nurse, Thomas…"

Thomas narrowed his eyes at Maze, but said nothing. He stayed out of the way while she tended to his brother. He maneuvered himself around the room, standing close to Arthur.

"The copper asked about a robbery, Tommy," Arthur spat, grunting in pain when Maze gripped his fingers gently to wrap them.

"He said there were guns in the crates. They're missing now," Arthur said, glaring at Thomas. "I told him we'd have a family meeting. Says if we help him, he'll help us. What's he talking about, Tommy?"

Thomas busied himself with picking up the bottle of whiskey. He stared at it, wishing for a drink, but he needed to be clear-headed. When he didn't reply to Arthur's questions, his older brother snarled at him, his eyes turning an amber hue. From the corner of his vision, he saw Polly's face paling as she glanced nervously toward Maze. When the younger woman said nothing, Polly relaxed.

"What the fuck is wrong with him, eh?" Arthur demanded, glaring at Polly who was sitting close by with a strip of cloth in her hands. "He's been like this since we got back."

"I don't know," Polly began, glancing at Thomas, "if I did, I'd buy it from Compton's Chemists."

Thomas froze for a second, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he schooled it normal. He didn't notice Maze and Polly watching him, but he came clean with Polly. Thomas couldn't stomach telling his brothers about his mishap. Nor Maze. He stepped back suddenly as Maze rose from her chair to brush past him.

Anger and desire rolled in him, feeling Maze's body brush against him as she walked over to stand behind Arthur. Thomas felt his body stiffen from the slight contact and stepped back as if scalded.

Arthur continued, unaware of his brother's reaction. "The copper said that he could help us if we helped him."

Thomas said nothing, but turned to Polly. "What else is wrong with him?"

"The ball joint on his left shoulder is partially dislocated," Maze spoke up before Polly could. She placed her hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I have to pop it back in place."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at her for speaking up, but nodded at her. It didn't matter if he was furious at her or not, she would fix Arthur. She constantly patched them up since her teen years. He watched as she eased Arthur's injured arm over his head.

"Arthur, I need you to relax," Maze instructed, slowly rotating his hand behind his head and moved his injured arm to reach for the opposite shoulder.

When they heard Arthur's shoulder pop back into the socket, Thomas handed him the bottle of whiskey. Maze stepped away from Arthur to walk around, wrapping his arm in a makeshift sling.

It fully surprised Maze when Finn knocked on her front door, telling her they needed her at the house because Arthur was injured. She nodded and walked back toward the kitchen to grab her kit and followed Finn out, locking the door behind her.

As they walked, Maze knew she would see Thomas at the house. Since their arrival home from the war, his aggression towards her grated on her nerves. Since he found her at the Somme near the end of the war, his anger towards her was unprecedented. But there were times, she mused silently to herself as she followed Finn to the Shelby house on Watery Lane, when he was inches from her; his eyes on her lips and her throat, that she wished he would touch her.

She entered the house, Finn leading her to the parlor where Ada and Polly were tearing cloth strips and trying to clean Arthur's bloodied face. She walked around and sat her black bag down on the table and opened it up. Fishing her hand inside, she pulled out a small bottle of antiseptic and wads of clean cloth before setting them down on the table. She frowned, but said nothing as she walked to the small kitchen to clean her hands.

When she returned, Polly wasn't in the room, but she heard a door slam before Pol walked back in. Maze realized Arthur's left shoulder was partially dislocated. Anger swam in her, wondering who in the fuck harmed him.

She felt his presence the second he walked into the house. His pale blue eyes watching her every move. Maze felt a shiver shoot up her spine, knowing his gaze was on her.

Thomas watched her walk off toward the small kitchen to clean up. A part of him wanted to follow her and start an argument. When he found her in 1918 at the Somme, he nearly lost his mind. Old anger swelled in him remembering that day.

The wolf snarled in his head, remembering how Thomas felt seeing her. She had been covered in blood, but she was beautiful. It irritated him that Freddie knew she was there but said nothing to him about it until Thomas saw her. He didn't regret the things he said to her that afternoon and the days following. Even seeing her now, the memories and emotions rose to the surface.

"You need to leave," he said before he could stop himself from opening his mouth.

Maze stopped in the doorway, arching an eyebrow at him. She shifted her body against the doorframe as she stared at him. "Polly invited me here."

Thomas scowled at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Then you're uninvited."

"I told Finn to fetch Maze, Thomas," Polly called from her chair, her voice clipped at the way Thomas was treating Maze.

"I'm here to help," Maze said, looking around Thomas to see Polly sitting at the table.

"Oh," Thomas whispered, stepping close to her, forcing her to step back into the kitchen and away from prying eyes. He slid his hand down her arm, his eyes following the movement before looking back at her. "I suppose you ran over here, didn't you?"

"Arthur's injured," Maze stated, feeling the wall press against her back. She shifted her feet, feeling his hand fall to her hip, keeping her locked between him and the wall.

"Your," Thomas began, his eyes wandering over her face and down the slope of her neck, "services are not needed here." He didn't miss the flicker of anger that passed over her eyes.

"Oh?" she pressed, ignoring how his hand squeezed her hip tightly. "Who's going to patch any of you up if you're injured?"

"We'll get by," he drawled, leaning close to her. He suppressed a shiver at being so close to her. Her scent called to him, her body warm as he shuffled his feet closer to her.

She snorted softly, refraining from rolling her eyes at him, "Right." she muttered, pushing away from the wall to pass him.

He growled low in his throat and pushed her back against the wall, startling her momentarily. Thomas wasn't done with her yet. "You should stay away," he muttered close to her lips.

"Don't act like I'm not wanted, Thomas," Maze snapped. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back from her so she could pass him.

"You're not," he snapped, taking a step back from her enticing scent. Thomas turned to leave the kitchen when she stopped him with her words.

"Don't fucking start this. You've been trying to fight with me since we came home!"

Anger swelled in him again as he turned around to face her. His eyes narrowed into slits, taking two steps toward her. "You should have never been there!"

"So we're back to this again?" Maze hissed lowly, trying to keep their argument from gathering attention. "I told you…"

"I don't fucking care what you told me," Thomas said hotly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to him. The same anger from France boiled in his veins. It consumed him every time he saw her. Every time he glanced at her, he wanted to scream and argue. Then, he wanted to push her against the wall and kiss her till her toes curled and she begged him to strip her and fuck her.

"Let me go, Thomas," Maze snapped, jerking her wrist from his grasp. Her wrist fell limply to her side as she inhaled deeply.

Thomas watched as she turned away from him and walked gracefully into the parlor to collect her things. He didn't pay any attention to the instructions she gave Polly and Arthur. His mind whirled at her deliberate rebellion as she walked away from him. No one walked away from Thomas Shelby.

He didn't even hear her leave. The last time they argued, she slammed the door hard enough it nearly broke, but this time she left quietly. He lifted his head, closing his eyes to tamper down the snarl coming from the wolf. He didn't understand it. There was something he was missing. Something that would explain his reaction to her.

"Bollioxed that up, didn't you?" Polly said, coming toward him. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture.

He cut his eyes to her, annoyed she would even try to lecture him. "What of it?"

"Every time you see her, you're arguing with her," Polly stated, glaring at him. "I know what she did and I know you don't agree with it, but this arguing has to stop Thomas."

He leaned close to his Aunt, "It will stop when she realizes what she did was wrong," he said before walking away from Polly.

Thomas pushed the front door open and stepped outside into the gloomy afternoon sky. He could curse Polly for letting Maze inside the house. When Arthur mentioned the guns, his heart froze. Charlie Strong kept the crates in his stockyard, hiding away from prying eyes. Thomas knew if word got out that the crate went missing, there would be a race to find it.

As he walked, he remembered his promise to Polly to do the right thing. She wanted him to get rid of the guns, toss them in the cut, or leave them so the coppers could find the crates, but Thomas had other plans for the crates. He knew the government, especially this Inspector Campbell, would do anything…. give him anything he wanted in exchange for the crates of guns and ammunition.

Weeks ago, when he stepped back onto British soil after the war ended, he was determined to take the Peaky Blinders and himself up the ladder to success. Unlike his absentee father, Thomas wanted the family business to become legitimate. Or as close as he could get them legitimate.

But he needed a plan.

The first step of his plan was to fix a race to get Billy Kimber's attention. Once that happened, the way he wanted it too, he would step in to take over Kimber's racetrack. The copper from Belfast showing up put a dent in his plans, but he could see the potential with fast-tracking himself higher up.

Later that night, followed by several Blinders and John, they stepped into the Garrison for a meeting and a drink when he encountered the new barmaid he saw earlier. She was singing. He realized people stopped singing when the war happened. Even Maze's lyrical tones were hushed lately. He leaned against the doorframe, listening to her until she spotted him.

The bar suddenly fell silent as Thomas stood there wondering what came over these people. The war sucked all the joy from their lives and many were still struggling to get back to normal, or whatever they deemed normal. No one spoke for a long minute until the landlord, Harry, saw Thomas.

"There hasn't been singing since before the war," Harry whispered, smiling at him as the landlord snuck over to him.

Thomas turned his head to see Harry standing there with a grin on his face. "There's a reason for that, Harry."

That night he was plagued by dreams from the war, buried under the tunnels, struggling to save his own life as the enemy found them. The pipe for the opium sat on the table beside him, haunting him.

Maze Hawthorne squinted against the early morning sun as she stepped away from Travelli Cafe. It was one of the few places she could buy an espresso. It amazed the Italian that ran the cafe she would drink the coffee, unlike her British counterparts, who preferred tea. Her therapist, as she called her best friend, chirped beside her, full of caffeine.

She stepped away from the cafe just as Danny Owens came stumbling by. Maze clutched Heather's arm, keeping her quiet as they watched Danny stumble toward the opened cafe. The owner, a tall lanky Italian man, stepped out of the cafe to see what the commotion was and saw Danny clutching his head.

"Oh no," Maze whispered, her gloved hand covering her mouth as she watched.

"Go away, you crazy man!" The owner shouted, gesticulating his hands wildly at Danny. Danny looked up at the owner for a minute to see where he was, but didn't leave as ordered. "I said, leave!" the owner demanded again.

The ladies watched as the Italian owner pulled out a small silver knife, hoping to use it to scare off Danny, but Maze knew that was the wrong thing for this man to do. Releasing Heather's arm, she pushed past several people, hoping to get there in time to stop the man.

She skidded to a halt, hearing screams from the ladies milling around her. Pushing past a couple of burly men, she looked helplessly around, seeing Danny running in the opposite direction. Her brain kicked into gear and she rushed toward the dying man. Maze fell to her knees, seeing the owner's knife sticking out of his chest.

Grimacing, she knew if she pulled the knife, the man would die instantly. Her fingers fumbled as she ripped his shirt open, exposing the man's abdomen. Deftly, her hands ripped the pristine white shirt apart and glanced at the man's face. He knew he was going to die, but it didn't stop her from trying to save him.

"I'm so sorry for this," she whispered, tears running down her face as she wrapped a hand around the small handle and gently pulled the knife from his chest. Her blood rushed to her ears, seeing how deep the blade went. Pressing down on his chest with the wad of his shirt, she pushed her weight into the wound, hoping to slow the flow of blood.

Maze never noticed the man went still underneath her. A set of hands jerked her from the man's body, dragging her away. She felt Heather's arms wrap around her as she fell limp in her friend's arms, sobbing.

"Let's get you outta here," Heather whispered, tugging Maze away from the scene.

Maze's sobs were quiet as they quickly made their way away from the cafe. She wanted to go back to her house and clean up, sob and sleep afterwards, but it seemed Heather had other plans. She lifted her head long enough to see where they were going and struggled in Heather's arms.

"I'm not fucking going in there," she seethed, seeing the Garrison.

"Yes, you are. You're a mess, Maze."

"No, I'm fucking-," She didn't get to finish her sentence as Heather pushed her through the doors of the Garrison.

"What the fuck happened here?" Thomas' voice sounded clear in her left ear.

Thomas closed the door behind him and sat down in his usual chair. His brothers sat across from him, each looking like hell from the previous night. Arthur's face was still healing, making his face look worse than John's. He reached for his Afton's, setting the box on the table and reaching for the small box of matches.

The Garrison wasn't busy in the early morning hours, but there were a few stragglers that ventured into the pub to sit and drink half the day away then leave to cause trouble. Later that day, he would stop by the betting house to see what the results were from the race the day before. It should have been his chief priority, but he made his first stop here. He raised his arm and quickly knocked on the small door that led behind the bar. The door opened a second later and a bottle of whiskey pushed through, along with three glasses.

Thomas took the bottle and the glasses, setting them on the table and twisted the cap off the whiskey to pour a generous amount in the three glasses.

"It's too fucking early to drink, Tommy," Arthur protested, reaching for his glass and swallowing the amber liquid in one go.

Thomas reached for his own glass and sipped it slowly. The breakfast he consumed early rolled around in his stomach. If he and Maze weren't arguing, he would have gone to her house for breakfast. Thomas looked around the tiny room and his thoughts drifted over the last several days. He knew his plan was slowly coming together and now he needed a reason to start trouble.

The next race was soon, and he figured it was almost time to let Monaghan Boy lose. Money was pouring into the shop since he fixed the first race, but it was almost time for the horse to lose. The new Inspector gained his attention by dragging his brother into jail and beating him, but the Inspector had not approached him yet. Thomas looked up to see the small red cuts on Arthur's face and realized that the Inspector left his calling card.

Anger rolled in him knowing that one of his family could be attacked without provocation, just because they were a Shelby concerned him. If the coppers went after Arthur, he shuddered to know what they would do to the women of the family. Right now, the Inspector was a thorn in his side, annoying but easily dealt with. Unless the game changed and the Inspector became a threat.

"I think it's time to buy another horse, boys." Thomas said, setting his drink down and picking up his cigarette again.

"Why? Monaghan Boy is doing fine," Arthur snapped, eyeing Thomas with a glare. "Isn't he?"

"Aye, he is," Thomas nodded. "But all good things must end."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John piped up, looking between his two older brothers.

"Where are you planning to get another horse?" Arthur demanded, ignoring John's question.

"It means," Thomas began, looking at John and ignoring Arthur. "That the horse can't keep winning. That's why I said we need to find another horse."

Arthur opened his mouth to repeat his question when a commotion outside grabbed their attention. Thomas rose first, followed by Arthur and John, who were ready to fight. Shaking his head, Thomas opened the door and caught Maze as someone pushed her through the Garrison's front door.

"What the fuck happened here?" he demanded, noticing Maze's hands and blouse splattered in blood.

"Let me fucking go!" Maze demanded, wrenching herself out of Thomas' arms. She completely ignored that it felt nice to be wrapped in his arms.

"Maze! Shut the fuck up," Heather snapped, before turning to Thomas.

Thomas regarded Maze's future friend with caution. He hadn't a clue about her presence in his city, but he would interrogate Maze once they stopped arguing.

"There was an….. accident." Heather stumbled, fidgeting with her hands.

"What kind of accident?" Thomas asked warily. Maze's woollen coat brushed against him, reminding him she was still there. He looked down at Maze's furious and pale face. "Take her to the washroom. Clean her up," he instructed Heather, who nodded abruptly and led Maze away.

Thomas sighed, turning his head toward his brothers and wondered what in the fuck happened. When the ladies returned, he practically shoved Maze into the room, forcing her to sit down. He couldn't help notice that her hands had a slight tremor to them. Pushing his half empty glass of whiskey in her hands, he glared at her until she took a sip from it.

She glared back at him, but did as he asked of her.

"Now," Thomas began, taking a seat beside Maze and looked at Heather. "What happened?"

Heather inhaled, glancing at Maze before turning her attention back to Thomas, "We were leaving Travelli Cafe when we saw….." she paused, not knowing the name.

"Danny Owens," Maze mumbled into her glass, resulting in a sigh from Thomas.

"He was having some kind of psychotic breakdown," Heather continued. "He stumbled over to the building, knocking over tables when Danny saw the owner had a knife on him. Danny attacked Travelli and stabbed him with the man's knife and ran off. Maze rushed over and tried to save the man, but it was too late."

"Where's Danny now?" Thomas asked, his voice clearly agitated. The words from Harry a few days prior reverberated in his mind. That something needed to be done with Danny. Thomas hoped he wouldn't have to deal with Danny's issues, but now, he would have to.

Arthur and John rose quickly, startling the ladies. "I—I don't know. I saw him run off in the opposite direction…."

"Find him before the Italians do," Thomas instructed Arthur and John, who promptly left the room. Heather turned her gaze to Maze, wondering how Thomas commanded such authority.

He turned to Maze, who stayed silent through the entire ordeal. It plagued her mind with the blood on her hands from the Italian man she tried to save. She shuddered in her chair. Maze closed her eyes and could see the blood dripping from her opened hands, much like it did during the war. During the worst of the war, the blood flowed freely from her aching hands. Her battered mind cursed the job they gifted her with and wished that her superiors stepped on sharp needles.

Maze knew Heather helped clean her hands of blood, but she couldn't help but shake from the memories that plagued her. She knew from reading books that war affected the minds of even the strongest of people and the results of trauma took a toll on a person, but she didn't expect this. She might not have been at the forefront of the war, but she had been close enough to take care of the injured and dying.

Even killing several of the enemy to save herself and the lives of all that were at the casualty clearing station.

"Maze?" Thomas called her name, trying to gain her attention.

Maze slowly turned her head to him and looked into his pale blue eyes. For the first time in weeks, she saw warmth instead of anger. Unfortunately, she knew it wouldn't last long. He would be angry with her again, eventually.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked quietly, ignoring the look that Heather gave him.

Maze shook her head, confused at his antics. "No, I'll be fine."

She rose unsteadily from the chair and scooted past Thomas, who watched her leave, followed by Heather. As the door closed, he sighed, closing his eyes at the cock up he was facing. Now that Danny killed an Italian, he knew what the Italians would demand of him. He needed a plan, and this plan didn't call for Danny to die.

There was no moon in the sky as Thomas walked to the dockyard, where Charlie Strong was preparing to send the crates down the cut so the coppers could find them. His mind still plagued by Maze's ordeal earlier and his failed attempt to corral Danny's madness. The night air was frosty, and he wished for his heavier overcoat. As he came closer, he could hear the grunting of Curly as the special man helped to load the crates onto the barge.

The dockyard was quiet, which helped the two men move the stolen crates of guns without being questioned. The lack of moon hanging above them helped keep their mission a secret. No moon night was Charlie's stipulation when Thomas brought it up with him a few days prior.

"Uncle Charlie, a word?" Thomas spoke up, seeing his uncle step off the boat.

"You're the boss, Thomas. What is it?" he said, coming toward his pseudo-nephew. "We'll have the crates dropped off on the bank by sunrise and the railroad men will find it and turn it in."

Thomas removed the cigarette from his lips, puffing out a cloud of smoke as he stared at the boat with the crates on it. With all the recent happenings to himself, his family, and Maze, he decided on a different course of action. "I've changed me mind," Thomas said, lowering the cigarette to hang by his side.

"What?" Charlie asked, his eyes widening. He knew that whatever his nephew was up to would not be good.

"I have an alternative strategy," Thomas said, not looking at his uncle. "Have Curly take the crates to the place where we used to lock up cigarettes. He knows where it is. When the boat leaves your yard, it's no longer your concern."

"Are you out of your fucking mind? There's word on the street that coppers are looking for the guns. They've sent an army for these things," Charlie spat angrily.

"That's right, they've shown their hand," Thomas said smoothly, ignoring the anger from Charlie. "They want them badly enough, they'll have to pay," Thomas paused for a second to look at his uncle. "It's the way of the world, Charlie."

"You might be family, Thomas, and I've always looked after you," Charlie began, hoping to change Thomas's mind. "But if you do this, then you'll bring a world of hurt and chaos on our heads," Charlie finished, wishing for a different answer from Thomas.

"Tobacco wharf," Thomas said, ending the conversation and handing Charlie the keys to the storage room. "By the order of the Peaky Blinders."

Thomas said nothing as he walked away from the dockyard and back toward his one-room apartment. He was sure that Charlie and Curly would have the crates dropped off at the tobacco wharf by the next morning, and the waiting game began. He would wait until the Inspector spoke to him.

Thomas stepped outside his lodging to see a car waiting on him. Slipping his hand in his coat for his box of Afton's, he fingered it before reaching in and pulling it out. The black Model T Ford sat parked, waiting patiently for Thomas to awaken. He didn't know how long it had been sitting there, but a waiting car wasn't good news.

"Mr. Shelby, we need to talk," an older Italian man wearing a black overcoat and a grey bowtie stepped out of the car. Thomas noticed another man sitting in the driver's seat, staring at him.

"Aye," Thomas mumbled, stepping forward to take a seat in the back with the gentleman.

He lit his cigarette, tossing the match out of the car as it dove off toward destinations unknown.

"Mr. Shelby, we have a problem," the Italian continued, shifting in his spot.

"And what might that be?"

"Your man, Danny Owens, killed my brother at Travelli's yesterday. Stabbed him through the heart like a murderer. It would have taken us no time at all to find him and cut his heart out." The Italian man paused, taking a breath. "However, a young woman associated with you tried to save my brother's life and therefore we are here," the Italian said.

Thanks to Maze, Thomas found the loophole he was looking for to help Danny.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Thomas asked, lowering his cigarette and puffing out a cloud of smoke.

"Take care of Danny Owens," the Italian said curtly.

Thomas pursed his lips, looking down at his cigarette, and nodded.

"Just so we know the job is done, we'll," the Italian motioned between himself and their driver, "be there to watch."

This made the job harder, but Thomas already worked out how he was going to 'dispose' of Danny. Danny would get a knock in the brains and be sent to London to do work there. No one would come looking for Danny Owens there.

"Fine," Thomas agreed. "This afternoon at the docks near the fishmongers. It will be done."

That afternoon, Thomas walked with Danny to the fishmongers where Charlie's boat would wait on them. Once Thomas dealt with Danny, Charlie would continue down the river until it stopped. Then, Charlie would leave instruction to Danny to continue his way to London.

"Danny, the man you killed was Italian. The men over there are his brothers. The only reason they came to me was because Maze tried to save his brother's life. If they had it their way, they would cut your heart out," Thomas said as they walked to the nearly empty dock.

Danny walked beside him, twisting his cap in his hands, knowing his fate.

Thomas looked over at the Italian men and regretted deeply what he was about to do. He pulled his right hand from his trouser pockets and reached into his coat for his cigarettes. He lit one quickly and walked around Danny to stand behind him.

"Do you have any last requests, comrade?"

"You'll look after my Rosie and boys. Help them out when they're older, please?" Danny begged, his voice breaking as he kept talking about their life because of the war and how it affected them.

Thomas felt his heart shatter at what he was about to do to a good man. Danny might have lost his way after the war, but he was still a good man and good men were scarce. It was a blessing that Thomas had a backup plan for Danny. Something the Italians were not aware of.

"Do you think it would help if I prayed?" Danny inquired, as a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. Danny turned his head around to see Charlie's boat. "Is that boat for me?"

"We have to get your body out of the city." Thomas replied, wishing he was anywhere but there.

"Don't bury me in mud, please? I hate the fucking mud."

"It was a pleasure knowing you," Thomas said softly, reaching to shake Danny's hand for one last time, until he saw him again… if Thomas ever did.

With one last handshake, Danny turned away from Thomas to stare out over the river and the boat that waited on him. Danny didn't know why Thomas offered to end his life, but he was ready for the death that wasn't given to him during the war. With his back turned to Thomas, Danny didn't see the gun come from Thomas' coat.

Thomas inhaled shakily, holding the gun steady. Thomas stared at the back of Danny's bald head, knowing the Italians were watching him. He didn't want to fucking do it. Killing Danny was the last thing on his list to do. Despite his madness, Danny Owens was a good man.

With a heavy sigh, Thomas pulled the trigger, the blood splattering on his face. The exploding noise of the gun rang throughout the empty dockyard. He watched as Danny's body fell into Charlie's boat. The body landed on filled bags to catch his fall. Placing the gun back into his hostler, he gave the Italians one last look before turning around and walking away.

He entered the Betting House an hour later; the blood gone from his face and walked into his office. Thomas grabbed a ledger and flung it open to the page he was looking for. It was the results of the latest race. Monaghan Boy won, much to his lack of surprise. Arthur stormed into Thomas's office, shouting at him that his horse won.

"Yea, it won. The word will spread and when we do the powder trick again, the horse will win again and again as the people come in droves to bet on this horse. Soon there will be a thousand quid bet on the horse and once that happens... the horse will lose."

Arthur stared at his younger brother, wondering where this madness was coming from when Thomas walked out of the office, leaving Arthur alone.

End of Episode 1