⋆⭒˚.⋆𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑁𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑊𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒-ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑊𝑒'𝑟𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒-ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑊𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒-ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛⋆⭒˚.⋆

Thomas had taken a temporary retreat from the chaos of Birmingham to his countryside estate, seeking solace and clarity after his late wife, Grace, passed. His entire life in had crumbled in front of his eyes and could not run the Peaky Blinders in his constant state of grief. The estate, surrounded by rolling hills, dense woods, and an air of opulence mixed with a sense of isolation, just what Thomas needed.

As days passed Thomas found himself with a bottle of whiskey in his grasp at all times trying to numb the pain, trying to calm his thoughts. 'Maybe this is karma, a sick kind of punishment,' he thought multiple times a day. Waking up one sunny morning Thomas found himself in need of some fresh air. He lit a cigarette while taking a walk through his 20+ acre property that came with the estate.

Thomas quickly lost himself in thought only snapping out of it upon finding an abandoned chapel. 'If this isn't a sign,' he sarcastically muttered to himself. Thomas wasn't a believer, it was hard to be with who he was as a person, a bad man. Still out of sheer curiosity he walked up the few steps before pushing the entrance open. It's was dilapidated yet beautiful a structure, ivy creeping over the walls and broken stained glass windows casting colorful patterns on the floor. Thomas was quick to put his guard up as a shattering came from behind the closed door leading to the preachers office.