The fog lay heavy over Birmingham, curling around the cobblestones and muting the distant clatter of carts. Thomas Shelby’s boots hit the ground with measured authority, his mind still ticking over the day’s events. The boardroom meeting with the city’s businessmen had been tense, and the fallout from last night’s fight with the Sabini men still lingered in his thoughts. Nothing in this city happened quietly, and tonight was no exception.

He pulled his collar higher against the chill and made his way to the pub. The door creaked as he pushed it open, letting a shard of the night air slip inside. Smoke, stale beer, and the scent of worn wood hit him, but he didn’t flinch. Most of the regulars had gone hours ago. A few remained, hunched over pints, their faces shadowed under the dim light, eyes flicking nervously. They didn’t meet his gaze, and he didn’t give them reason to.

Every detail registered. The brass taps, smoke clinging to the ceiling, the faint glint of a blade in a man’s pocket. He moved to the bar, boots silent but deliberate. The bartender looked up, uneasy but used to Thomas’s presence. He lit a cigarette, embers glowing bright in the dim light, and took a slow drag.

“Pour it slow. I need to think,” he said. His voice was calm, but every word carried weight.

The whiskey slid across the bar. Thomas swirled the amber liquid, letting the burn settle as he scanned the room. The fight, the negotiations, the betrayal of men he trusted—all of it weighed on him. Yet he remained composed. The night around him seemed to mirror his mood: heavy, tense, alive with unseen threats.

A lone patron leaned forward, curiosity or foolishness in his eyes. “Tommy… looking to settle something tonight?”

Thomas’s smile was faint, sharp, and predatory. “Not settle. Observe. Understand. Then decide.”

He lifted the glass again, letting the smoke curl around him as shadows stretched long across the floorboards. Outside, fog rolled over the streets, carrying whispers and secrets. Inside, Thomas Shelby lingered—alert, calculating, and dangerous—his mind already moving ahead, plotting the next step in a city that never slept.