𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌

Sade

1:00 ─♡────── 4:01

"𝚂𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔"

The car glided smoothly through the dark streets, the low hum of the engine the only sound inside. Karim sat in the backseat, his elbow resting against the door as his fingers tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest. His eyes were sharp, fixed somewhere beyond the window, though his mind was far from the passing scenery.

Abbas sat across from him, his body rigid, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. There was a tension in the air—thick and oppressive—that Abbas couldn't shake. Finally, after several long, heavy moments, he spoke.

"That didn't go how you wanted," Abbas said, his tone cautious but not quite deferential.

Karim's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Didn't it?"

Abbas frowned. "Arthur Shelby humiliated you in front of everyone. The men saw it. The woman saw it."

Karim turned his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto Abbas like a predator sizing up its prey. "Humiliation is temporary. Power is permanent."

Abbas hesitated, then scoffed softly, shaking his head. "Arthur Shelby's not the type to let things go. If we cross him—if we cross any of them—they'll come for us."

Karim leaned forward, his gaze never leaving Abbas's. "Let them. The Shelbys think they've won because they hold their territory with brute force. But brute force is predictable. Controllable. Do you know what the most dangerous weapon in a war is, Abbas?"

Abbas frowned but didn't answer.

Karim's smile widened, cold and calculating. "Information. And I intend to have all of it."

He leaned back again, his fingers returning to their rhythmic tapping as he continued. "You asked me why we let them walk away. Because I need time. Time to understand what makes them tick. What they fear. Who they protect. And when the moment comes, I'll strike—not with fists, but with precision."

Abbas's unease deepened, but he pressed on. "And her? What's she to you?"

Karim's gaze flicked back to him, his expression unreadable. "Maeve Harding," he repeated softly, almost to himself. "She's a curiosity. A loose thread in a tightly woven fabric. And you know what I do with loose threads."

Abbas shook his head. "She's nothing but a distraction. A pretty face who happens to mingle with the wrong family."

"Is she?" Karim countered, his voice cool. "Or is she the key to unraveling the Shelbys from the inside?"

Abbas narrowed his eyes. "You think she'll turn on them? A woman like that?"

"No," Karim admitted, his tone laced with something darker. "But loyalty can be exploited. Everyone has a weakness, Abbas. Even her."

Abbas shifted in his seat, his discomfort evident. "You're walking a dangerous line. The Shelbys aren't the type to let a grudge go. If they even suspect—"

"They won't," Karim interrupted sharply. "Not yet. And by the time they do, it'll be too late."

Abbas exhaled slowly, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "What's the plan, then? What's the next move?"

Karim leaned back fully now, his fingers steepled under his chin as he spoke. "We start small. Strategic. Find cracks in their foundation. And if there aren't any..." His smile turned predatory. "We create them."

He gestured toward Abbas. "First, I want Freddie Thorne. The communist."

Abbas blinked, confused. "What about him?"

Karim's smile didn't waver. "He's the perfect weapon. We tip off Campbell. Feed him the information he needs to arrest Freddie, pull it all on Thomas. And when the dust settles, the Shelbys will be too distracted cleaning up their mess to see what's happening in the shadows."

Abbas frowned, still uncertain. "Why Freddie? What's the angle?"

Karim's eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Because Freddie's a liability. Not just to them, but to everyone connected to them. You think Campbell's vendetta ends with one arrest? No. It's a domino effect. One piece falls, and the rest will follow."

Abbas hesitated, his unease growing. " What's the play there?"

Karim's smile softened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "A woman who moves in silence but sees everything. She's clever, careful, and utterly loyal. That makes her dangerous—and valuable."

"Valuable how?" Abbas pressed, his voice tinged with frustration. "You think you can use her against the Shelbys?"

"Perhaps," Karim said nonchalantly. "Or perhaps she's useful in other ways."

Abbas shook his head, his expression hardening. "You're not just after information, are you?"

Karim chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Abbas, you've known me long enough to understand this: I never want just one thing."

Abbas crossed his arms, his voice lowering. "You're risking a war for a woman who won't even look at you twice."

Karim's expression darkened slightly, though his tone remained calm. "Watch her, Abbas. I want her life laid out in front of me like a map."

"And when you have that map?" Abbas asked.

Karim's smile returned, colder now. "Then I'll decide whether to burn it or use it."

The car pulled to a stop in front of Karim's office, its polished facade gleaming faintly under the streetlights. As he stepped out, Abbas followed, his frustration giving way to resignation. He knew better than to argue when Karim's mind was set.

Before stepping inside, Karim paused, turning back to Abbas. "And one more thing."

Abbas raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Make sure the Shelbys know nothing of this," Karim said, his voice a low growl. "Not yet. When we strike, it has to be swift and precise. I want them reeling before they even realize the blade's in their back."

Abbas nodded reluctantly, his jaw tightening. "Understood."

Karim turned, disappearing into the building without another word. Inside, his mind churned with plans and contingencies, his thoughts returning again and again to Maeve Harding. She was a mystery—a puzzle he intended to solve. And when he did, she would either be his greatest asset or his greatest weapon.

For now, though, he would wait. Patience was a virtue Karim had mastered long ago. And in the end, it was always the patient man who won.

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Abbas stood in front of Karim's desk, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Karim leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on the armrest, the other holding a half-full glass of whiskey. The room was dimly lit, the flickering shadows from the fireplace casting an eerie glow. Karim's expression was unreadable, though the slight tilt of his head suggested interest.

"Well?" Karim prompted, his voice smooth but edged with expectation.

Abbas smirked faintly, crossing his arms. "It went exactly as planned."

Karim gestured with his glass. "And Grace Burgess? Did she bite?"

Abbas chuckled darkly. "Oh, she bit. Hard."

Karim raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do tell."

Abbas stepped closer to the desk, his tone dropping as he began to recount the meeting. "I approached her as you instructed. Played the game. It took some finesse, but she couldn't resist the bait."

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The small house was silent when Abbas arrived. A thin curtain of smoke rose from the chimney, and the dim glow of lamps shone faintly through the windows. The neighborhood was quiet, tucked away from the chaos of Small Heath's main streets. Abbas moved silently through the shadows, his men close behind him, each one armed and poised for trouble.

"Make it quiet," Abbas murmured to his men before he stepped forward and knocked firmly on the door.

The sound echoed through the stillness of the house.

Inside, there was a shuffling noise. After a long pause, the door cracked open, just enough for Grace Burgess to peer out, her expression wary but composed.

"Who are you?" she asked sharply, her gaze darting to the shadows beyond Abbas.

"Miss Burgess," Abbas said smoothly, tipping his hat with the kind of polished confidence only men like him carried. "Apologies for the hour. May I come in?"

Grace's grip tightened on the edge of the door. "It's late. Whatever business you have, it can wait."

"Unfortunately, it cannot," Abbas replied, his smile thin. Before Grace could shut the door, he stepped forward, pushing it open. His men followed silently, spreading out into the small sitting room like shadows.

Grace retreated, her back straight and her jaw tight as she watched Abbas remove his hat and set it down on a nearby table. "I asked who you are."

Abbas ignored her question for the moment, letting his gaze wander briefly around the room—the modest furnishings, the fire that burned low in the hearth, the neatly stacked papers on the desk. He smiled faintly. "You live simply, Miss Burgess. I wouldn't have expected that."

Her expression hardened. "If you don't tell me what you want, I'll scream for the coppers."

Abbas chuckled softly, though the sound held no humor. "I don't think that will be necessary. I'm not here to harm you. I'm here because we have... interests that align."

Grace's brow furrowed. "Interests?"

"Yes," Abbas said, reaching into his coat and producing a small, folded piece of paper. He held it up between two fingers, the gesture deliberate and slow. "This is for you."

Grace didn't move. "What is it?"

"A gift," Abbas replied, stepping closer and placing the paper on the table between them. "Consider it information that may be of great use to you."

Grace glanced at the paper warily before looking back at him. "Why would I take anything from you?"

Abbas's smile sharpened. "Because you've been looking for him. Freddie Thorne."

Grace's breath caught, though she tried to hide it. Abbas watched her closely, noting the flicker of emotion in her eyes. She glanced at the paper again but didn't reach for it.

"How do you know about that?" she asked, her voice steady but low.

Abbas tilted his head slightly, feigning curiosity. "Come now, Miss Burgess. You think you're the only one with ears in this city? Secrets have a way of reaching the right people."

"And you're the 'right people?'" Grace scoffed, though the edge in her voice betrayed her unease.

Abbas didn't answer. Instead, he opened his coat and withdrew a thick folder, worn at the edges. He placed it on the table beside the folded note and tapped it with two fingers. "This, however, isn't a gift. This is your story, Miss Burgess."

Grace froze. Her eyes darted to the folder before narrowing suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

Abbas opened the folder slowly, revealing photographs—grainy but unmistakable. The first showed Grace outside the police station, speaking to Inspector Campbell. The next, her shadowed figure in a meeting with Tommy Shelby. Another, her face partially obscured as she exited a carriage with a parcel in hand.

Grace's throat tightened. "How did you—"

"Doesn't matter how," Abbas interrupted, his tone cold and even. "What matters is that you've been playing a dangerous game, and my employer happens to be paying attention."

"Who's your employer?" Grace demanded, her voice rising slightly.

Abbas smiled thinly. "Al-Sharid."

The name hit Grace like a blow, and Abbas saw it. Her shoulders stiffened, her mouth opening briefly before she snapped it shut. Of course she'd heard of Karim Al-Sharid—anyone connected to power in this city knew the name. His influence, his money, and his alliances stretched far beyond Small Heath.

Grace's voice was lower when she spoke again. "What does MR Al-Sharid want with me?"

Abbas tapped the folder again. "This isn't about you, Miss Burgess. It's about her."

"Who?"

"Maeve Harding."

Grace blinked, visibly thrown off guard. "What does Maeve have to do with anything?"

Abbas smirked, almost enjoying her confusion. "You'll find out soon enough. What matters now is this—I gave you Freddie Thorne's location. Do with that what you will. "

Grace looked down at the small paper on the table, her mind spinning, before glancing back up at Abbas. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Abbas leaned forward, his voice a quiet rasp. "Because the Shelbys are your problem. And Maeve Harding... is ours."

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Back in the present, Karim watched Abbas carefully, his dark eyes glittering as the flashback ended. "And you think she'll go through with it? Turn Freddie in?"

Abbas shrugged, though a confident smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "She doesn't have much of a choice. She wants Freddie, and I gave her what she needed. It's only a matter of time."

Karim leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Good work."

Abbas's smirk faded slightly as he straightened. "What's the next move there?"

Karim's smile was faint, unreadable. "We keep watching."

Abbas hesitated. "And if the Shelbys catch on?"

"They won't," Karim said smoothly. "Not yet."

Abbas studied him for a moment. "What exactly do you want from her?"

Karim looked up, his gaze dark and unrelenting. "Everything."

The single word hung in the air like a threat, filling the room with a heavy silence as the fire crackled softly in the background. Abbas said nothing more, understanding that Karim's plans were far from over. For Maeve Harding—and the Shelbys—this was only the beginning.