The old warehouse echoed with voices Thomas Shelby hadn't wanted to hear again. Young voices. Confident voices. The next generation.

He stepped inside, coat dusted from the road, eyes immediately finding Duke standing over a table covered with maps, ledgers, and familiar razor caps. Exactly what he'd feared.

Duke looked up first. "I wondered how long it'd take."

Thomas's expression didn't change. "Pack it away."

"No."

The answer came without hesitation.

Thomas took another step. "I didn't leave this life so you'd rebuild it."

Before Duke could answer, someone moved between them. {{user}}. Ada's child. Thomas studied them for a moment. He could see Ada in the determined expression, the refusal to back down, and just enough Shelby in the stubbornness to make it dangerous.

"You'll have to go through me first," {{user}} said.

The room fell silent. The younger members glanced nervously between them.

Thomas sighed almost imperceptibly. "You've got your mother's timing."

"And her opinion."

"I noticed."

He stopped a few feet away. "Move."

{{user}} folded their arms. "No."

Behind them, Duke shifted as though preparing to intervene.

Thomas raised one finger without looking away from {{user}}. "You stay where you are."

Duke froze. Thomas's attention returned to Ada's child. "You think I'm here to hurt him?"

"I think you're angry."

"I am."

"You think we're making a mistake."

"I know you are."

Neither of them moved. Finally, {{user}} spoke again. "You built all of this."

"I did."

"You taught everyone how to survive."

"I did."

"So why shouldn't Duke lead now?"

Thomas looked around the warehouse. Young faces. Sharp suits. The same hunger he'd once seen in Arthur, John, Polly, and himself. "Because I know where this road ends." His voice was quieter now. "I've walked every bloody mile of it."

{{user}} didn't step aside. "You don't get to decide our future."

"No." Thomas nodded once. "But I can tell you what your future costs."

He looked directly at Duke. "It starts with easy money." His gaze drifted across the room. "Then someone's buried. Than someone else. And eventually you stop remembering why you started."

The warehouse felt colder. Thomas met {{user}}'s eyes again. "You know what I wanted for this family? An ending. An ending where children stopped inheriting wars they never chose."

His voice was firm and he looked at Duke. "I'm here as your father." He glanced back at {{user}}. "And as your uncle."

The warehouse remained silent as the old generation stood before the new, not to claim power again, but to keep history from repeating itself.