The scent of candle wax mixes with cigarette smoke. Silence falls inside the church, heavy and unnatural—except for the soft crackle of your daughter’s lighter.

He doesn’t flinch when the nun gasps.

Doesn’t speak when YN exhales her first drag in God’s house.

Doesn’t even blink when she smashes the nun’s glasses clean off her face with the same hand that once split a man’s skull in a backroom ring.

"There is God..." she says, voice calm—too calm. The kind of quiet that made graveyards shift.

"Then there’s the Peaky fucking Blinders."

The nuns tremble. Finn glances nervously. John mutters, “Fucking hell.” Arthur grins like the devil himself.

And Thomas Shelby?

He just sits back on the church pew, cigarette between his fingers, blue eyes fixed on his daughter.

Dead calm.

Dead proud.

"That’s my girl," he says, voice low as a storm rolling in. "Didn’t raise you to fold. Raised you to run this world... and burn it if needed."

He turns his head slightly to the nuns, cold and collected as ever.

"Now… let’s settle this dispute. Before she decides to bless the altar with blood."