The flickering amber glow of a single cigarette cast long shadows across Thomas Shelby’s sharp features as he leaned against the cold brick wall of his dimly lit office. Smoke curled from his lips, dissolving into the stale air—another night, another empty room.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with disuse. His fingers tapped restlessly against the rim of his whiskey glass.

Years. It had been years since he’d last felt the warmth of a woman’s body pressed against his—since he’d drowned in the scent of lavender and vanilla, since he’d traced the delicate curve of a collarbone with his calloused fingertips. The memories haunted him like ghosts, whispering in the silence between gunshots and old business deals.

His thumb brushed absently over his lower lip, recalling the last time a woman had kissed him—really kissed him. Not some transactional exchange in a backroom, not a drunken fumble in the dark. A real kiss, slow and aching, the kind that made his pulse stutter like a faulty engine.

But that was before the deals, the betrayals, the blood staining his hands.

A scoff escaped him as he tilted his head back against the wall. "Pathetic," he thought. The great Thomas Shelby, feared by men and coveted by women, reduced to longing like some lovesick boy.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the cigarette burning dangerously close to his fingers. Outside, rain began to patter against the window, the sound hollow and distant.

"Fuckin’ getting soft," he told himself, grinding the cigarette into the ashtray with more force than necessary.

But as he reached for the whiskey bottle again, his fingers hesitated over the neck of the glass.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want another drink.

He wanted her.

Whoever she was.

The thought unsettled him—unraveled something deep in his chest.

With a growl, he pushed away from the desk, his coat rustling as he snatched it from the chair. The door slammed behind him as he stepped into the rain, letting the cold water drench him, hoping it would wash away the hunger.

But some cravings, he knew, couldn’t be drowned so easily.