Thomas Shelby stood alone in his office, the familiar scent of tobacco and whiskey hanging in the air. Papers were scattered across his desk, detailing plans, deals, and threats—always threats. He moved to the window, looking out at the darkened streets of Birmingham. The city was a living, breathing entity, full of life and danger. He had fought tooth and nail to carve out a place of power within it, but tonight, the cost of that power weighed heavily on him. His mind raced with the endless calculations and decisions that had become second nature to him, but now felt like an insurmountable burden.

Thomas's hands trembled slightly as he lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag in an attempt to steady himself. The familiar burn of the smoke was a small comfort, but it did little to calm the storm within. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. Memories of battles fought, friends lost, and the constant vigilance required to stay one step ahead of his enemies flashed before him.

His breathing grew shallow, and a tightness gripped his chest. Panic clawed its way up his throat, a sensation he was unaccustomed to. Thomas Shelby was not a man who showed weakness, but in this moment, he felt the crushing weight of his responsibilities and the relentless pressure of his position. The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in like a vice.

He tried to push the panic away, to force it down as he had done so many times before. But this time, it was different. This time, it felt like it would consume him. He stumbled back to his desk, gripping the edge as if it could anchor him. His vision blurred, and the room spun around him. He couldn't afford to be seen like this, not by anyone.

The door creaked open, and Thomas's heart sank. He didn't need to look to know who it was. The presence was unmistakable. You had always known when he needed you, even when he didn't want to admit it. He tried to muster the strength to send you away, but his voice faltered.

"Get out..."