Novel & Cerita Peaky Blinders Arthur Shelby

"I want to see the confirmation. The filing." ​Arthur sighs. He looks tired. "You saw the ping, Isabella. I don't play games with signatures. It’s messy." ​"You play games with everything else." ​He looks at me then. Truly looks. His eyes are cold. No relief. No anger. Just a checklist. ​"You look like a gutter rat," he says. "The Sterling boy. Did he do that to you? Or did you do it to yourself?" ​"He didn't do anything."

The rain had turned into a cruel, stinging sleet that slicked the alleyway stones, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the absolute frost settling in my marrow. I stared at the man stepping out of the shadows. He looked older, his hair silvered at the temples and his face etched with lines of a life lived in the dark, but the eyes were unmistakable. They were my eyes. The same mahogany depth, the same stubborn tilt of the brow. Arthur Hart. The man I had wept for as a ten-year-old girl. The man whose "closed casket" funeral had been the first great lie of my life.

"And if you are still standing in this terminal when my tactical team arrives in three minutes, I will let the state marshals find you with the fabricated federal evidence you used to frame your own son." Arthur’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked at me, his eyes pleading for a single sliver of mercy, but I turned my back on him. I knelt beside Leo, my hand wrapping around his cold, damp fingers as the steady, rhythmic hiss of the manual resuscitator filled the silent air. With a ragged, broken sob, Arthur grabbed his briefcase and stumbled toward the dark exit of the terminal, leaving Thatcher groaning in the dirt behind him.

I am Evelyn Vance. Arthur didn't speak until the limousine had cleared the downtown traffic and merged onto the dark, winding highway heading toward the northern cliffs. When he finally shifted his gaze to her, the weight of his scrutiny made the air in the cabin feel ten degrees colder. “The adrenaline is wearing off,” Arthur observed, his deep voice cutting through the silence. He didn't sound sympathetic–he sounded clinical, like a doctor noting a patient's symptoms under observation. “Your hands are shaking, Evelyn.” Evelyn immediately looked down at her lap. Her fingers, resting against her gown, trembled. She clenched them into tight fists, forcing them to stay still. She raised her ch

37 | ARTHER AND ARLO’S THOUGH Arther immediately looked straight at the backyard of the Blake Light Pack with that vacant look that was right now in very clear in his two eyes on there about right now. Arther right now had no idea about how long that he had been sitting in silently on one of the benches that was in the Blake Light Pack's backyard right on there about right now. It was almost become early in the morning actually, and even the welcoming and engagement party last night for him and Kylie had already finished for a few hours ago right on there about right now.

I’d seen him return from war, soaked in red like it meant nothing. But now? His hands trembled. Like the weight of her blood was heavier than anything he’d ever carried. These were the strongest men I knew. And right now, they weren’t warriors. They were boys, broken, helpless boys kneeling at the edge of a nightmare they couldn’t wake up from. And I couldn’t move. I just stood there. Watching it happen. Watching her slip away. Arthur lifted his head slowly, eyes red and desperate, locking on Tatum. There was no pride in his voice when he spoke.

His eyes nakedly toured her red bikini, mentally undressing her. "Won't you join me?" She eyed him seductively. Arthur immediately chose to stare in his sunglasses at the sun. "I'm not in the mood, love." He voiced, relaxing his body wholly on his seat inches away from the pool. "What's wrong?" She swarm towards him. Her wet fingers tracing the outline of his leg. "Everything. Covington's persistent murders, the Sheriff's disappearance, shutting down Belgrave temporarily. How can I be happy?" He gazed at her pretty face glowing under the sun.

“Don’t even try. I won’t tell you. You’ll find out when we get there.” We spent the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, watching television. I hadn’t had evenings this peaceful in a long time. David’s words about a boy and a girl drifted back into my thoughts. What if he was right? But I didn’t feel anything like that yet. Time would tell. The calm shattered suddenly when Arthur shot to his feet. He inhaled sharply, his gaze turning dark and hostile. “What is it, Arthur?” “Damn it,” he muttered, crossing to the wardrobe where a large safe was hidden. When he pulled out a gun, my stomach dropped.

The cameras went wild, capturing the moment for all time. In the blur of it all, I caught a glimpse of Arthur, hand on his heart, eyes rolling back. He hit the floor with a thud. Perfect. This time, there was no need for a rescue – he was beyond that now.

I dove for it, my fingers closing around the cold metal. I stood up, aiming the gun at the writhing mass of men on the floor. "Stop!" I yelled, my voice cracking. They didn't stop. "Stop or I'll shoot!" Arthur looked up, his eyes locking onto mine. He saw the gun. He saw the trembling in my hands. "Go ahead, boy," he sneered. "Shoot me. But can you live with the blood on your hands? Can you be the monster Julian is trying so hard not to be?"