𝑺𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓

Sade

1:19 ─♡────── 4:16

"𝙽𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛"

The heavy door to Karim Al-Rashid's office clicked shut, muffling the noise of the house beyond. Inside, the fire crackled steadily in the hearth, the flames flickering against the dark wood-paneled walls. The room smelled faintly of smoke and whiskey, and everything-right down to the bookshelves lined with artifacts from far-off lands-spoke of wealth and calculated refinement.

Karim sat at his desk, fingers steepled as he regarded the man across from him. Abbas stood casually, hands in the pockets of his tailored coat, his dark gaze fixed steadily on Karim. They had known each other for years-partners in business, confidants when no one else could be trusted. Abbas was loyal but far from a yes-man. He had an opinion, and he was never shy about sharing it.

"I need information," Karim said, his voice smooth but unmistakably commanding.

"On who?" Abbas asked, already curious.

Karim paused for a beat, his expression unreadable. "Maeve Harding."

Abbas's eyebrows lifted slightly, though he didn't say anything at first. Instead, he studied Karim with faint amusement. "The Shelby woman?"

"She's not a Shelby," Karim corrected calmly. "Not by blood."

"Close enough," Abbas said, his tone light but deliberate. He leaned back against the desk, folding his arms. "Why?"

Karim's lips curved faintly, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Because I like to know who I'm dealing with."

Abbas tilted his head, unconvinced. "Don't lie to me. You've been circling her since the races."

Karim's gaze sharpened slightly, but his voice remained measured. "Just find out what I want to know. Her family, her habits, her history-everything."

Abbas exhaled through his nose, the faintest hint of a sigh. "You realize how this looks, don't you? Poking around a woman tied to the Shelbys. If you're not careful, you'll start a war we don't need."

Karim's smile didn't waver. "That's why you'll be careful, Abbas."

Abbas's expression turned serious, though his voice remained casual. "For the record, I think this is a bad idea."

"Noted," Karim replied smoothly, already dismissing the argument. "I expect results within the week."

Abbas sighed again, shaking his head as he straightened. "Fine. But when this blows up in your face, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'll take my chances," Karim replied softly, his gaze lingering on the fire.

----------------------------------------

The office was still, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the corner. Shadows danced across the wood-paneled walls, flickering over the tall bookshelves and polished furniture. Karim Al-Rashid sat at his desk, the faint glow of the lamp casting a golden hue on the papers spread out before him. Abbas entered the room with the ease of someone who belonged there, but his casual posture did little to soften the sharpness in his gaze.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them off from the rest of Kimber's house. Abbas carried the envelope in one hand, slapping it down onto the desk with an air of finality. "Here it is. Took some digging, but it's all there."

Karim's fingers paused on the rim of his whiskey glass, his dark eyes flicking to the envelope. "That was quick."

"You don't pay me to drag my feet," Abbas replied, lowering himself into the leather chair opposite the desk. He leaned back lazily, though his tone was clipped with faint irritation. "Not that you'll like what you read."

Karim didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached for the envelope, tearing it open with deliberate care. Abbas watched him with an amused but cautious look, his arms folding across his chest.

"You know," Abbas began, breaking the silence, "most men stop chasing a woman when they realize she comes with a pack of wolves."

Karim glanced up, his lips curling faintly at the corners. "And most men bore me."

Abbas groaned under his breath, shaking his head. "Bloody hell, Karim. If you want a thrill, go racing horses. Don't poke the Shelbys' hornet's nest."

"Let me decide what's worth poking," Karim replied coolly, already scanning the file's contents. His gaze moved methodically across the typed words, stopping at key points as Abbas watched him for any sign of reaction.

Name: Maeve Bridget Harding

Date of Birth: March 28th, 1890

Age: 29 years old

Hair Color: Auburn

Eye Color: Green

Height: 5'6"

Family

Ewan Harding (Father, deceased - blacksmith, former associate of Arthur Shelby Sr.).

Bridget Harding (Mother, deceased - seamstress).

Jamie Harding (Older brother, deceased - died in France, July 4th, 1916).

Rosie Harding (Younger sister, age 16 - attends St. Paul's Boarding School, London).

Employment: Bartender at The Garrison Tavern, known Shelby stronghold.

Associations

Arthur Shelby: Exceptionally close, though details remain unclear.

Thomas Shelby: Professional trust established.

John Shelby: Familiarity and friendship.

Polly Gray: Seen as a mentor and maternal figure.

Reputation and Allegations

- Loyalty: Fiercely loyal to the Shelby family, known to act decisively in their interests.

- Illegal Dealings: Whispers persist regarding her potential involvement in handling illegal operations.

No formal accusations or confirmations exist to substantiate these claims.

- Firearms Incidents: Rumored to have brandished or discharged a firearm on multiple occasions in defense of the Shelby family or their operations. These accounts, while compelling, remain unverified.

Karim's brow furrowed slightly as his eyes lingered on Arthur Shelby's name again and again. He tapped the edge of the paper with two fingers, as if weighing the information in his mind. Abbas noticed and leaned forward, his tone turning more serious.

"Before you ask-yes, she's close to Arthur Shelby," Abbas said. "No one knows how close. Could be personal, could be business, could be both. Doesn't matter. If you cross that line, it's you versus all of them."

Karim looked up at him, his expression unreadable. "Everything matters, Abbas. Everything."

Abbas snorted softly. "Fine. Then what else do you want to know? You've got everything in front of you-family, work, friends. Hell, you even know what bloody school her sister goes to. It's enough to leave her alone."

"It's not," Karim replied smoothly. He folded the file and placed it back into the envelope before setting it aside with a casual flick of his wrist. "It's a start."

Abbas's brow furrowed as his irritation boiled over. "You're serious about this?"

Karim picked up his whiskey glass and leaned back in his chair, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "Watch her."

Abbas blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Every move she makes," Karim clarified, his voice low but clear. "Where she goes. Who she meets. What she does when no one's looking."

Abbas swore softly under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're obsessed."

Karim's lips curled faintly, but his eyes held no humor. "I'm thorough. There's a difference."

"You're thorough when you're smuggling guns or fixing races," Abbas shot back, his tone sharp. "This? This is personal."

Karim's gaze narrowed, though his tone remained calm. "You don't understand her yet, Abbas."

Abbas sighed, his irritation giving way to something more resigned. "And what do you think you're going to find, Karim? Her secrets? A way in?"

"Maybe," Karim replied, swirling his whiskey lazily. "Or maybe I'll learn what makes her tick."

Abbas exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "You've got ambition, I'll give you that. But this is how men like us die, Karim. By chasing what we shouldn't."

"Then we'll be careful," Karim said simply, raising his glass to his lips. He drank slowly, savoring the burn. "If she so much as breathes differently, I want to know."

Abbas stood up abruptly, his coat rustling as he grabbed it from the back of the chair. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when Arthur Shelby comes looking for blood."

Karim's faint smile returned as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Arthur Shelby is a blunt weapon, Abbas. Men like him swing wildly and miss. Men like me... we know where to aim."

Abbas shook his head, muttering a curse as he turned for the door. "I'll start watching. But when this goes to hell, don't expect me to say I told you so."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Karim replied smoothly, the faint amusement never leaving his voice.

The door closed behind Abbas, leaving Karim alone with the file. He stared at Maeve Harding's name on the page, the ink dark and unyielding against the paper. People knew of her, but they didn't know her.

But Karim intended to.

Every door has a key, he thought to himself, folding the paper neatly. And every mystery can be solved.

For now, he would wait. He was patient-a quality most men lacked. And if Maeve Harding thought she could remain untouchable forever, she would soon learn otherwise.