It had been three days. Three days since he found his way between her thighs. Three days and nights of hearing her moans echoing in his battered brain. It felt it had taken a decade to claim her as his. Thomas felt the telltale signs of their separation under the sleeve of his jacket. His skin itched like fire and wouldn't stop until he touched her again. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, hearing her moans echoing again in his brain. If he didn't think about it, her moans and the way her skin felt under his fingers wouldn't surface.

Thomas Shelby dismounted the horse, his boots slapping roughly against the tarmac. He tied the reins to a nearby poll and smooth the hair on the horse's nose before he fixed his cap and walked toward the dark green doors of The Garrison. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and inhaled the aroma of smoke and alcohol. The lingering scent of coal, steel, and unwashed bodies gently hummed underneath. Looking around, he saw the blonde hair of Grace standing behind the bar, cleaning out a glass with a white towel.

The woman that haunted his dreams for the past few days was standing at the bar with a half empty glass sitting beside her. In her hand, a pen raced across pages, writing something in a book. He sighed, knowing that he didn't want her inside the pub, but knew not to kick her out lest it cause a scene. An argument between them would find him between her thighs. He shuddered, pushing down the vicious lust that engulfed him. She was standing alone, wearing a blue dress that he wanted to push around her hips. Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch, checking the time. He didn't have anywhere to be for hours. He closed it quickly and quietly walked over to Maze.

"What are you writing about?" Grace asked, leaning over to snoop for information.

Thomas stopped, waiting patiently behind her. He ignored Grace's attempt to catch his attention. Whatever Grace needed to speak to him would have to wait. His key priority was seeing Maze.

"Something disgustingly filthy," Maze answered dryly, lifting her head to gaze at Grace.

"That's not nice," Thomas spoke up, watching Maze's body freeze up. A frown marred Grace's features, but she said nothing. He reached around her, pressing his body close to grab her tumbler. Maze whipped her head around to glare at him, snatching her drink away before finishing it. He raised an eyebrow at her, but took the bottle of whiskey and tumbler that Grace handed him.

"That will teach you to be nosy," Maze spoke up, recovered from her shock.

"I want to speak to you," Thomas murmured, jerking his head to the private room.

He nodded as she agreed and followed him to the small private room he used for all his meetings. After he opened the door, he let her in and closed the door. He knew quite that Grace was on the other side of the wall and could hear them. Thomas sat down in his usual spot on Arthur's usual spot and patted the seat beside him, indicating that he wanted her close to him.

Maze sighed, stepped around the empty chair and sat down beside Thomas, still trying to keep her distance. He watched as she crossed one leg at the knee, her stocking clad calf exposed to his blue eyes. Thomas watched as she placed the book on the other side of her, far from his fingers. It made him curious about the contents, but said nothing. He sat the bottle of whiskey down and twisted the cap before pouring himself a drink.

"We need to talk," he said simply, reaching into his jacket for his Afton's and setting the box on the table. He wanted one but refraining out of courtesy of Maze, but the nicotine would soothe his frayed nerves. His hands ached to reach for her, push her against the wall and fuck her. Thomas changed his mind and plucked a cigarette from the box and placed it between his lips before Maze could say anything. She glared lightly at him, but said nothing.

"About what?" Maze asked, amused, shifting her weight and leaned against the padded booth. Her heart hammered in her chest at his proximity. She closed her eyes for a second, remembering their night and how he touched her before shaking herself of the vision. Maze didn't want her mind to wander, at least not until she was alone.

With a few flicks of his wrist, Thomas waved the flame away and placed the cigarette between his lips. He inhaled, his pale blue eyes never leaving hers, and he contemplated on what to say to her. The nicotine rushed in his veins, instantly calming him. He removed the cigarette from his lips and placed it in the glass ashtray before leaning close to her. His eyes flicked over her body as her chest hitched. With sensitive ears, he heard her heart hammering in her chest.

"About how I was between your beautiful thighs three nights ago," he whispered, watching her reaction. It did not disappoint him to see lust filter over her brown eyes. He swallowed back a grunt, ignoring the way the wolf urged him to claim her.

"Oh, that," she replied shakily, arousal washing over her as that night crept back through her brain. "Do we now? I never saw you as the type to talk about your feelings, Thomas."

"Despite that," he said, placing his hand on her skirt and pushing the fabric high on her angled legs. She didn't push his hand away, much to his delight. His cock stirred in his trousers, listening to her breathing pattern. His nose twitched slightly, inhaling the scent of her arousal. He wanted her arousal thick in the air, suffocating him until he forgot how to think.

"I want to be inside you again," he mumbled, pulling his eyes away from her legs and peered into her darkened eyes.

Maze let out another shaky breath. "Do you?"

"Yes, and so do you. Don't deny it," he said curtly, as if daring her to deny what she wanted.

"I didn't say that," she defended, yelping quietly as he pulled her close to him. Any closer and she would be in his lap!

"Do you know?" Thomas murmured, trailing his fingers lightly up and down her arm, wishing it was bare to relieve the itching. "I can still hear you moan my name."

He flicked his eyes to her face, watching as it crumbled in pleasure before she schooled her face. Her olive skin was flushed with desire. He knew she desired him and if she asked him to lock the door and fuck her, he would. He wouldn't care who heard them as long as he could be buried inside her.

"Do you know what I want?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over her plump lower lip, expanding his hand to cup the side of her face, his fingers tangling in the loose chignon as she shook her head in negative. Thomas leaned close to her as his lips whisked hers.

"I want to hear you moan my name like you did three nights ago," he whispered against her lips, removing his thumb to caress her chin. "Say it and I'll let you leave."

He watched through lidded lids as Maze opened her mouth. No words came out as she tried to talk. She inhaled sharply, feeling his hand slide up her stocking clad thigh and further into her dress, teasing her. Her eyes fluttered close, stealing her lovely chocolate eyes from him. Thomas darted his tongue between his lips and gently flicked it over Maze's lips, making her body tremble in his arms.

Maze knew she was utterly fucked. Thomas was too close to her to think straight. He now understood the power he held over her and was exploiting it for his own gain. She should be pissed at him for it, but her deceitful body refused to acknowledge his crime. She opened her mouth but found the words stuck in the back of her throat. Her inner thighs trembled the further his hand slid up her dress, teasing her further into a lustful madness.

Fuck, she wanted him.

Before she could utter his name in shameless lust, the door to the private room shook on its hinges, breaking the two a part. In a matter of seconds, Maze fixed her hair while Thomas grabbed his cigarette. Thomas narrowed his eyes at the wooden door, using his curse to hide Maze's arousal from prying noses.

The door opened, revealing Arthur. His mop of hair hung in front of his eyes, obscuring his vision. Maze watched in disdain as he reached up to push his hair back and look between her and Thomas in confusion.

"Do you fucking knock?" Thomas snapped, his ire growing at the interruption.

"What are you two doing in here?" Arthur asked, ignoring Thomas' question.

"Talking about a project Maze wants to start," Thomas shot back, reaching for his whiskey and taking a sip, hoping that his ill timed brother would get the fucking hint.

"What project?" Arthur pressed, leaning against the door.

"She was about to fucking tell me when you threw yourself at the door," Thomas replied cooly but with an edge of anger. "Now go, I'll be out there in a minute."

Arthur took one last look between her and Thomas and turned around, closing the door loudly behind him. Maze rolled her eyes at his childish antics and rose to leave, hoping that Thomas would let her go.

"Now where were we?" Thomas asked quietly, rising to stand up and follow her out of the room.

Maze inhaled sharply, her heart pounding in her chest. The throbbing between her thighs intensified when he looked at her. A smoke cloud billowed around them as he sat the cigarette in the small glass ashtray.

"Oh, yes…" he whispered, stepping into Maze's space, pressing her against the door. He felt her chest hitch as her eyes darkened with lust. Lust that he brought out in her, no matter how much she fought what she wanted.

Pinching her chin lightly between his fingers, he inched his lips close to her. "I can see you're going to fight me," he whispered lowly, seductively, dropping his eyes to look down at her. He slipped his hand slowly down her leg, grabbing the fabric of her dress and dragging it high up her leg as he his hand slipped between her thighs, caressing her cunt through her knickers.

"I want you to fight me," he whispered, hoping no one could hear them. He lowered his head to her throat, his lips barely grazing her skin. He could hear her blood whooshing in her veins, her heart erratic as she stood there, locked in his embrace. His finger traced a small pattern on her dampened knickers before pressing his thumb into the fabric.

"I can't wait to hunt you," he mumbled, pressing his lips against her throat. He bared his teeth to her flesh and nipped the tender skin. He moaned low, feeling her body shake with her orgasm. His name fell from her lips, and he felt a possessive urge to claim her.

Inside of him, the wolf howled for the small victory.

He shuddered viciously, willing his lust to damper. Resting his head on her shoulder, he took a shuddering breath. Thomas listened to hear heartbeat and removed his hand from between her thighs, the dress falling around her cooled legs. When he was sure she was calm enough to leave, Thomas stepped back and kissed her gently on the forehead before reaching around and twisting the handle to set her free from him. He watched with amber eyes as she stumbled slightly out of the room and into the heart of the pub before leaving.

The war needed to end with the Lees. A line was crossed the second the Lees placed a grenade in his car. None of his men attempted to harm the Lees except to beat their faces in when they got rowdy and in their way. Thomas needed to talk to someone in charge of the Lee family. He needed this to stop if he was going to take down Billy Kimber. Kimber knew the Lees were after Thomas but didn't know the details.

He needed to speak with Johnny Dogs. Johnny was his white flag to meeting the Lees without guns blazing. He was afraid the man wouldn't speak to him after the way he started the war with the Lees months ago. Johnny begged him not to start issues with the Lees, but Thomas didn't listen to him.

"Johnny," Thomas said as the man met him in the clearing.

"Thomas." Johnny said, looking Thomas over.

"You know what's happened?" Thomas inquired, reaching for a cigarette.

"Aye. I heard about the grenade. Nasty business, Tommy. No one was hurt?"

"Not yet." Thomas lit his cigarette, tossing the match before placing it between his lips. "I need to talk to Zilpha Lee. This war has to end between us."

"I don't know if I can, Tommy," Johnny said, shuffling from one foot to the next. "It will take time."

"This is important," Thomas pressed.

"Aye, I understand that Tommy, I do, but I can't just waltz in there and start demanding."

"I understand," Thomas replied, lowering his cigarette. "But it has to be done."

That was three days ago. Three days of waiting for an answer to help fix all his problems, at least temporarily. When he received a missive from Johnny that he had got a sit down with Zilpha Lee, Thomas took it. He didn't tell anyone about the meeting with Zilpha Lee. It would please Polly that he was trying to settle the enmity between the two families instead of continuing the war.

He had left the comfort of Maze's house and journeyed to the outskirts of town. While slow, his hunt was progressing in his favor. He parked the car at the spot Johnny instructed him and let the shorter man lead him to the Lees encampment. As they walked, Thomas noted Johnny removed his white scarf and wrapped it around a long stick he acquired earlier. Seeing the Lees waiting on him, despite the white flag of surrender and peace, he felt hostility from a distance.

No one wanted to end the war, but him, it seemed.

Rocks moved under his feet as they walked into the encampment. His mind wanted to wander, but he refocused his attention. He needed to be clearheaded while dealing with Zilpha. He felt eyes all over him, even from a distance. The sky clouded over the longer he walked to the covered wagon.

"I've got you ten minutes with her," Johnny whispered harshly, his eyes on the rest of the Lees he currently travelled with. "It's easier to see the Pope than her these days."

Thomas didn't doubt it.

Thomas waited back a few steps as Johnny knocked three times on the door of the elaborate wooden door on the wagon. He could see one of the Lees with a rifle in his hands, waiting for Thomas to fuck up. He wasn't there for that. Thomas watched from under the hood of his hat as another man hoisted himself up on the step to open the window. He climbed down and opened the door to the wagon, permitting his entrance. Alone, he walked up the small flight of steps and into the wagon.

Taking a seat across from Zilpha Lee, he shoved his hat inside the pocket of his trench coat. He sat down slowly and watched as she picked up a heavy Bible, holding it out in front of him.

"Place your hand on the Bible," Zilpha Lee instructed without hesitation. He knew it was their way of solidifying that he would tell the truth to her, regardless of what he wanted.

"I don't believe," he whispered, keeping his eyes on her. His God wasn't the man proclaimed in the heavy tome in front of him. As a shifter, the moon and the curse ruled him. God had no part in it and if He did, He laughed in Heaven.

She looked at him curiously and slowly lowered the heavy tome down to the table between them. Thomas refused to fidget under her glare as they sat across from one another.

"I'm not here to lie to you," Thomas began, letting Zilpha know his intentions up front. "This war is cutting us all up."

Switching to the native language of his people, "Un băiat aproape că a fost ucis," (A boy almost got killed.). "Unul dintre oamenii mei aproape că a murit." (One of my men almost died.)"

She chuckled at his pleading. It amused her he would come here to beg for peace when he started the war between them. Begging for a man and a child's life seemed unimportant to her. Thomas Shelby injured her people and prevented them from earning their stolen money. It mattered not to Zilpha if the war ended or not.

"Un copli," (A child), he pressed, hoping she would understand the gravity of the situation. The man would live, but it wasn't right for a child to die for their war.

"You're all children," she rebuked.

"I say enough," Thomas replied, holding back his ire at the woman across from him. "Your boys tried to kill me and it didn't work."

He shoved his hand into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out the small bullet that had a name carved on it. It was their way of casting one's enemy. Setting it down on the table between them with a small clunk, "Vin aici cu o propunere," (I come here with a proposition.)

Zilpha picked it gingerly and read the name carved on the bullet. She looked up at him curiously. On the bullet, the name Kimber was etched. "El a fost aliatul tău?" (He was your ally).

"Am de gând să-l trădez," (I plan to betray him.) Thomas said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. It didn't matter to him whether or not Kimber was an ally.

"No wonder you won't touch a Bible," Zilpha remarked, setting the bullet on the table.

"I have…. ambitions," Thomas replied.

"You want to plan a switch," Zilpha said, hoping to finally understand what Thomas Shelby wanted from her.

"I need your boys," he said.

"For what?"

"Kimber's not the brains," Thomas began. "There's a Gadza who runs the races. I'm collecting smart people, but I need strong men too." Thomas leaned forward, hoping to make his next statement mean business between the two leaders. "Now your boys should know this: We now get the winner of one of three races before the race starts. No need for chalk or rafflers, I'm talking certainties."

This didn't settle well with Zilpha. "You come in here boasting you're going to do someone down and in the same breath, ask me to trust you?" she snapped lightly, astounded by his brass.

It was a tall order that he was asking for. He knew Zilpha didn't have any sort of reason to trust him and he was asking her for blind faith in him with no results or proof beforehand. He wanted Kimber out of the way and going to Zilpha Lee seemed to be his only option.

"On my mother's side, we are kin," Thomas reminded Zilpha, unconcerned that she most likely did not care. Family was family, no matter what.

"Să vorbim despre afacerea de familie," (Let us talk family business). Thomas continued, hoping she would listen to his proposition.

Zilpha nodded her head, wondering what kind of family business Thomas Shelby wanted to bring to her table. Johnny Dogs got him ten minutes with her, but it seemed this meeting was going to take much longer than he expected.

"What do you want from us?" Zilpha asked, leaning back against the bench.

"I believe I have a way to end this war between us," Thomas began, knowing he caught her attention. "My brother John needs a wife..."

"And you're willing to sell your brother out like a whore?" she asked, unsurprised.

Thomas paused, letting the silence drag out for a few minutes before speaking again. "If needs must. I believe this will bring peace between our families. John needs a wife for his children."

Zilpha thought this over for a moment. Marriage would indeed help keep the peace between the two families, keep them from warring again. She would never admit it, but Thomas Shelby might be right about this. Zilpha was a smart woman. Not by choice, but because she had to be. If she said no to this offering, there would be blood spilled and then nothing would be the same again.

The whole of Birmingham would burn if the two families warred any longer. She and the rest of her clan might live on the fringe of society, but they were still human. Zilpha glanced over at Thomas Shelby and wondered why he wasn't offering himself to wed. She didn't see a ring on his marriage finger, nor did he carry the air of unavailable.

"Why not yourself? Why offer your brother to wed?" She asked him, curious about his answer.

"I have no intention to wed as of now," Thomas replied smoothly, hoping she didn't press it any further.

Zilpha nodded, accepting his vague answer for now. "I have a daughter, Esmeralda. She is unmarried and a little... wild," Zilpha said, watching for his reaction. "She is young and healthy and would make a good wife for him."

Thomas held back his surprise. To have John married to the daughter of Zilpha Lee wasn't what he was expecting when he cast the offer. He expected another woman, possibly widowed, to marry his brother, but not this. He surmised she must have come to the same conclusion he had. If war continued, there would be blood spilled on both sides of the family. Thomas couldn't take one of his own killed in petty revenge.

He wouldn't be able to tell John of this until the set day of the marriage. Thomas knew John would fight against marrying one of the Lees, no matter what Esmeralda looked like.

"It is a deal, then." Thomas agreed to her offer. He rose from his seat to leave the caravan when she stopped him.

"I will contact you soon, Thomas Shelby," Zilpha said, remaining in her seat.

The evening was late as Thomas sat alone in his private room at the Garrison, enjoying a late after dinner drink. The pub was quiet for once and he was enjoying the silence. In his hand, he held a telegram addressed to him. There wasn't a name attached to it, which made him curious. Opening it up, he tossed the envelope on the table and opened the telegram.

Written inside was an address. To whom he didn't know. It wasn't often someone sent him an anonymous letter with just an address. It seemed someone wanted him to pass on information.

Just as he finished reading the telegram, the door to the private room opened as Polly walked in smiling at him. He waited patiently as she closed the small double glass door before she sat down across from him. Holding the telegram toward her, he gave her a side glance.

"Is this your doing?" he asked quietly, placing the telegram on the table in front of her.

Polly looked at the telegram, knowing exactly what was written on it before explaining herself to Thomas. "I asked an acquaintance for an address. She said she would only give it to me anonymously. Afraid of the consequences that could come to her door if she was found out."

With an air of impatience, Thomas looked at his aunt. "Who's address is it?"

Picking up the telegram, Polly quickly inhaled. She knew she would have to word her next few sentences correctly if she was going to get him to agree. "Tommy, I want to suggest a different strategy."

He looked at the telegram, then back to her, deciding if he should hear her out or not. He hoped that whatever strategy she pitched would be worth his time. There were far too many things that were going on for her to offer a different strategy.

"This is the address of Stanley Chapman. He's higher than Freddie Thorne," she began her explanation. "Maybe you can use it in exchange. The coppers leave Freddie alone and take Chapman instead."

Thomas looked at the telegram again, holding out his hand. He sighed softly, realizing she offered a switch. Stanley Chapman for Freddie Thorne. It seemed she was still fighting for her niece and husband. It wouldn't matter. Freddie and Ada needed to leave the city, but Thomas knew Freddie wouldn't go without a fight. It worried him that eventually they would catch Freddie.

He opened it up and looked at the address. Mulling over it, he realized it could work out in his favor if Campbell agreed to this, but he had a sinking feeling that Campbell wanted more than just Freddie or Chapman. He would demand more of Thomas besides the arrangement of the guns to be delivered to Campbell.

He trusted Polly to be smart. Of all the people in his small circle, Polly was one of the few he trusted explicitly. She made mistakes that were easily rectified, but she hadn't steered him wrong yet.

"I'll look into it," he finally offered, placing the letter back in the envelope.

The rain poured heavily as Thomas waited patiently for Inspector Campbell to arrive. The pitter patter of rain hitting the roof above him as he stood close to his car kept his senses occupied. He could be curled in bed with Maze if she'd only let him through the door. Something was bothering her about their time together, and he was determined to get the truth.

Of course, he didn't mind hunting her and teasing her body until she begged for release, then refused to give it to her. When he finally broke through her barriers, he would have her again and she would submit to him. She would become his, no matter what. He still hadn't explained to her what she was to him. That would come after she submitted to being his.

A car pulled up, stopping long enough to let Inspector Campbell out of the hackney. It drove off, leaving him there alone with Thomas. If it'd had been anyone else, Thomas would have relished the one-on-one encounter.

"Your message said you had an address for me?" Campbell said, stopping at a safe distance from Thomas.

Thomas pulled the envelope from his coat, holding it up for the Inspector to see. He inhaled sharply, hoping Polly's idea worked. "Anonymous tip off. The address of Stanley Chapman."

It almost worked.

"You promised me Freddie Thorne," Campbell said, reminding Thomas of their deal.

"You can have this instead of Freddie Thorne," Thomas countered.

"No deal," Campbell said, turning around to leave when Thomas stopped him.

"Inspector Campbell, Stanley Chapman is bigger fish than Freddie Thorne." That caught Campbell's attention. "He's currently holding £200 in cash given to The Communist Party by the Russian Government." Thomas watched as Campbell walked further into their meeting area. "That's right, Chapman has snow on his boots. If he talks, you have your proof."

Campbell stopped a few feet away from Thomas, wondering if the information would do any good. He wanted Freddie Thorne, but the offer of Stanley Chapman was almost too good to give up. It would give him insider information about the Communist Party, their comrades, and their hiding locations.

Of course, if he could get Stanley Chapman to talk.

"Now," Thomas began, walking toward the Inspector. He was a businessman through and through. If he was to give up the information, Thomas wanted something in return. "Before I give you the address, I want your word that Freddie Thorne and my sister leave the city," he said, holding up the envelope for good measure.

In that moment, Campbell knew the devil was giving him something he could use, but he wasn't an honorable man, no matter how many times he sang the song. He wouldn't keep his word to Thomas Shelby. Thomas Shelby was a criminal, unlike himself, who was a man of the law. Chester Campbell wanted Freddie Thorne, because it might help ruin the Shelby hold on Birmingham.

"Very well," he lied, reaching for the envelope. "You have my word." Thomas dropped the envelope into Campbell's awaiting hand and turned away from him as Chester Campbell tucked the envelope into a pocket inside his trench coat.

"I'd say our little truce has proven to be productive for the both of us," Thomas said, staring out at the rain. He reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a cigarette.

And then Campbell had to ruin the entire evening for him.

"But there are more pressing matters," Campbell said, walking off to grab an abandoned chair to sit down. "Mr. Churchill is becoming impatient, and I fear that if you don't get those stolen guns back soon, they will replace me."

Thomas couldn't believe the gall of the man in front of him. Thomas was not ready to hand over the guns until the issue with Kimber was dealt with. "When my business with Kimber is done, I will return the guns. That was the deal."

"You hold all the cards," Campbell said, going for the defeated route. "But I hope that my dismissal doesn't come before your decision to hand over the guns. If I were to be fired, which is a possibility, and it was your fault; I would do things that would shame the devil." he threatened lightly, but Thomas completely understood the undertone in Campbell's message.

Everyone in his family would be on the chopping block.

Campbell rose to walk across the way to stand in front of Thomas, his 'enemy' for all intent purposes, "On my last day in power, I would see to it you and your scum brothers have your heads stoved in with mallets. And your sister too," he added, upping his threat, hoping to convey to Thomas what would befall the man. "The baby inside her would be of no consequence to me. Your youngest brother, Finn… he would be lifted and sent to the adult prison where the men have an appetite for young boys." Campbell finished, stepping almost in front of Thomas, making sure that every word he spoke ravaged inside the man's head.

Thomas felt fury boil in him listening to the Inspector threaten his entire family. But he knew Campbell wasn't done with his threat. It didn't matter to him if Campbell was fired, Thomas would have his men capture the vile man before him and they would hunt the Inspector like the animal he was, tearing him to shreds as the man's screams echoed over the moor.

"As for Polly Grey and Mazella Hawthorne," Campbell continued his threat, "They would be sold and used for perverse pleasure to men of that station. Whether or not they die does not matter to me."

"And know this," Campbell said, walking backwards to keep his eye on Thomas. "The clock is ticking."

The second Chester Campbell turned his back, Thomas threw the cigarette to the side and pulled his gun. Cocking it, he held it, pointing at Campbell's back. The man was seconds away from dying from the most painful death that Thomas could only imagine. His rational mind fired up as the wolf snarled viciously in his head, wishing for the death of this man. If Thomas shot Chester Campbell, hellfire would come crashing down on the Shelby family, regardless. The only way to get what he wanted was to let the vile man walk away. Soon enough, he would get his revenge on this bastard and make him pay. Lowering his gun, he stood there watching as the Inspector turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

Thomas wanted to scream. He wanted to tear something apart viciously, but the full moon had come and gone, leaving him in his human form to deal with the aftermath of this. He needed a plan. A plan that would see him have everything he wanted and Campbell out of his fucking territory.

If only life would move a little faster.

Thomas truly didn't believe that Churchill would fire Campbell, but he couldn't turn over the guns until it was the right time. There wasn't anyone he could talk to and explain the situation to without alerting his family to what he had done behind their back. Polly, Arthur, and Charlie knew about the guns, but two of three of them didn't know where they were.

Or what Thomas planned to do with them.

The morning was warm as Chester Campbell and his coppers stood waiting at the address of Stanley Chapman. His pipe snugly in his mouth as his men waited for his call. Taking in a big fish like Stanley Chapman would make his life a little easier, but Campbell wanted Freddie Thorne for his own use.

A woman and two children peered from their doorway to watch the coppers kick in the door and drag Stanley Chapman out of the side-by-side house, kicking and screaming.

Moss walked over to Campbell, holding out a thick tan envelope. "Look what we found. Seems Stanley Chapman has snow on his boots."

Campbell walked over to Chapman, gripping the envelope in his hand, "Mr. Chapman, you're fucked," he said as he walked away, leaving Stanley Chapman with his men.