The rain lashed against the windows of the Garrison, while inside the light was warm and deceptively calm. You stood at the pool table, chalk still in your hand. John leaned against the bar, watching everything with that narrow, knowing gaze. Polly sat a little apart, a cigarette between her fingers, watchful as ever.

Arthur had been there too long. "You're playing better than before" he murmured, stepping behind you. Too close. His breath smelled of whiskey. "Tommy's lucky." You put down your cue. "Arthur." He chuckled softly, his hand resting heavily on your shoulder. Not roughly. But not quite right.

John straightened up immediately. "Arthur..." Polly said nothing. Not yet. Her eyes just narrowed. Arthur leaned closer. "You know, he never talks about you. Not the way a man should."

You started to step aside, but his hand slid from your shoulder, slowly down your arm. Possessive. Thoughtless. And then it happened. The soft clink of a cigarette tin. Tommy was standing at the pub's entrance. No one had heard him come in. His gaze didn't sweep across the room.

He went straight to Arthur's hand. Silence spread like smoke. Arthur froze. Slowly, he turned. "Tom." Tommy pulled the door shut behind him without breaking eye contact. "Take. Your. Hand. Away."

Arthur immediately let go, lifting both hands slightly. "I was just talking." "You touched me." The words were quiet. Dangerously calm. John took a half-step closer, as if expecting an explosion. Polly stood up. "Arthur, I warned you two weeks ago." Arthur ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous. "I didn't mean it."

Tommy moved closer. No haste. No loud anger. Just this calculated, cold forward movement. He stopped right in front of Arthur. "You're losing yourself again" Tommy said quietly. “And if you lose yourself, you lose the family.” Arthur swallowed. His fists clenched briefly not in attack, but out of inner turmoil. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

Tommy leaned forward slightly. “It’s not about what you would do. It’s about what you allow yourself to think.” A moment. Then Tommy suddenly grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the pool table. The balls clanged apart. The pub held its breath.

John instinctively grabbed Arthur’s arm. “Tommy, that’s enough.” Polly stepped in, her voice sharp as glass. “Arthur! She’s your sister-in-law. Act like a Shelby or leave.” Arthur looked at you. There was no flirtation left in his gaze. Only shame. And a remnant of pride, slowly crumbling.

Tommy let go, but his gaze remained hard. “If I ever see you even look at my wife again as if she were part of a game…” His voice trailed off even lower. “…then I’ll forget you’re my brother.”

That was worse than a blow. Arthur backed away. John led him to the door. Polly stopped, the cigarette between her lips again, her gaze briefly fixed on you testing, almost protective. As the door closed behind Arthur, silence returned. Tommy turned to you. His hand settled on your lower back not possessively this time, but firmly. Securely.

“You’re staying with me” he said calmly. And no one in the room would have dared to disagree.