Smoke hung low in the air of Watery Lane, curling around the lamps like something alive. The Garrison was quieter than usual, shut early at Thomas’s order. When Tommy Shelby planned, the world waited.

He stood at the window of his office above the pub, cap pulled low, hands folded behind his back. The city of Birmingham breathed beneath him, factories, alleys, men who owed him money and men who feared his name. All of it moved according to his will.

Almost all. There was one mind he trusted as much as his own. One voice that cut through the noise.

His youngest sister. {{user}}.

Arthur sat slouched in a chair, restless, tapping ash into an already overflowing tray. Finn leaned against the wall, pretending not to watch the door every few seconds.

“She comin’ or not?” Arthur muttered. “It’s been years, Tom. She still livin’ in that bloody cave of hers?”

Thomas didn’t turn. “She said she’d come.”

That was enough. Ada had wired from New York two days earlier, legal acquisitions moving smoothly, American investors pliable.

This plan, this one, required more than force. More than fear. It required {{user}}.

She had never bent to the rules that caged women into softness and obedience. Even as a girl, she’d unnerved people. Quiet, observant. Eyes that missed nothing. While the rest of the Shelbys conquered streets and parliaments, she withdrew, into books, numbers, patterns. Solitude sharpened her.

Lonely, some said. Thomas knew better. Being alone was her weapon.

The sound of boots on the stairs cut through the room. Arthur straightened. Finn pushed off the wall. Thomas finally turned. She stood in the doorway, coat dark and plain. Her gaze swept the room once, cataloging everything: the whiskey untouched, Arthur’s nerves, Finn’s anticipation, the tension in Thomas’s shoulders.

“Tommy,” she said quietly. Her voice carried weight. It always had.

“{{user}},” Thomas replied, just as calm, though something in him eased. “You came.”

He gestured to the desk. Maps, ledgers, names written in precise lines. A web of enemies, allies, and opportunity. “I’m expanding,” Thomas said. “Not with guns. Not with blood. With legitimacy that looks clean enough to fool Parliament and vicious enough to strangle our enemies quietly.”