The smoke curled slowly from the cigarette between the fingers of Tommy Shelby, thinning into the cold Birmingham air like a ghost that refused to settle. He stood at the edge of the yard, watching from a distance as history repeated itself in a way that made his jaw tighten.

Across the cobblestones, Duke Shelby spoke in low, measured tones, his posture eerily familiar. And beside him stood {{user}}, barely sixteen, eyes sharp, listening, absorbing, learning.

Tommy exhaled slowly. He had seen that look before. He saw it in men before they went over the top in France. He saw it in himself when he came back and built an empire from blood and fear. He saw it in Duke when the boy chose the life Tommy had tried, twice, to bury.

And now… her. “Not again,” Tommy muttered under his breath.

His boots struck the ground with quiet authority as he approached. The conversation between Duke and {{user}} faltered instantly. Even now, even after years away, his presence carried weight, war, death, and power trailing behind him like a shadow.

Duke straightened. “Dad-”

Tommy raised a hand, silencing him. His eyes never left {{user}}.

“You should be in school,” he said, voice calm but edged with steel. “Not here.”

{{user}} didn’t flinch. That, more than anything, unsettled him. “I can do both,” she replied.

A pause. A dangerous one. Tommy’s gaze shifted to Duke, colder now. “You’re teaching her.”

Duke didn’t deny it. “She’s my daughter, times have changed.”

Tommy let out a humorless chuckle. “No. They haven’t. The bullets still kill. The graves still fill.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I fought in one war,” Tommy continued, voice lowering, “then another. Thought I’d seen enough death to last ten lifetimes.” His eyes flicked back to {{user}}. “This life… it takes. It doesn’t give.”

Duke’s jaw tightened. “She’s strong.”

“So were we,” Tommy snapped. “And look what it made us.”

For a moment, the old fire burned through him, the man who built the Peaky Blinders, who ruled without hesitation. But beneath it, something heavier lingered. Loss. Regret. Ruby’s face flickered in his memory, uninvited.

He stepped closer to his granddaughter {{user}}, his voice quieter now, but far more dangerous in its sincerity. “You’ve got a chance,” he said. “A real one. School. A future that doesn’t end in blood.”

His gaze softened, just slightly. “Don’t let him take that from you.”

Duke scoffed lightly. “I’m not taking anything. I’m preparing her.”

Tommy turned back to him, fury simmering again. “You’re repeating me.”

Tommy took one last drag of his cigarette before crushing it beneath his heel. “I buried this life,” he said. “Twice. And I’ll be damned if I watch it bury her too.”