"THE LEES," Arthur Shelby announced when Thomas returned from riding, "are stationed right outside of Birmingham, but they said they had already found us."

The group was standing around the now smoldering campfire. There was no urge to rekindle the light, as it was growing increasingly obvious that they would no longer be staying here. Arthur was recounting the trip, as John stood idly next to Evelyn, his hands shoved into his pockets. Thomas was across from her, his head casted down to the ground as he digested Arthur's information.

"They said they had some men following us," John added hesitantly.

Thomas's brows stitched together, and he cleared his throat before replying, "How is that possible?"

Arthur glanced in Evelyn's direction, which sent an icy cold wave down the back of her spine, "They, uh, said they had been tracking Danior's girl."

Evelyn blinked, her eyes darting between Arthur and Thomas in disbelief. How was that possible? She had been so careful to leave to traces of her movements, it seemed impossible to fathom that someone had known where she was this whole time.

But then it dawned on her. The carved message she had found a few days earlier. Gospodarica żeli dijete - the Mistress wants her child. It had been the Lees who left that signal, waiting for her to pick it up to see if she would take the bait. They wanted to see what Evelyn would do next, if she would come out into the open and expose herself for the sake of finding James.

It had been a cry for an alliance. Evelyn was sure of it. Why else would they single her out? Why else would they have been tracking her? She was the only other person, apart from her dead mother, who knew how Danior's mind calculated power. She was an excellent ally for anyone looking to fight against him — that's why the Shelby's decided not to kill her so many days earlier. It's why Thomas protected her that afternoon in the woods, when Yuba, Mircea and Mihai were only feet away.

But if that was the case, why didn't the Lees approach her? Why did they let her wander for so long?

"Did you know about this?" Thomas asked Evelyn suddenly, staring at her from across the fire. His face was stoic, his tone matching the unreadable opinion he was forming regarding the news.

She shook her head furiously, "No. I thought - I mean, I've been out here for months, and I haven't come across anyone. Only my father's men. You all said the same thing when we first met."

It was true. No one had known the Lees were hanging around, lurking in the edges of the clearing as Thomas and Polly developed their plan of attack. Evelyn found some solace in this, because on some level, it showed she was just in the dark as everybody else.

But it was obvious that she was the only one who believed this.

"Why would they keep you alive?" Thomas wondered after a moment, his head cocking to the side slightly, "Do you know something?"

"No," Evelyn reiterated again, "I haven't seen the Lees since..."

Since the night I got pregnant. The words dissipated heavily in the back of her throat, nearly causing her to choke. She shifted her feet awkwardly, wrapping her arms around her empty stomach. Evelyn was still shaken up from her earlier episode, and the current topic was doing little to relieve the lingering nausea. The group continued to look at her, expecting Evelyn to continue.

"The Lees killed a lot of my father's men," Evelyn offered instead, "It's the only fight he lost. Maybe they were just trying to see what side I'm on."

John coughed next to her, "Zilpha said she would only meet with Evelyn."

Thomas rolled his eyes, shaking his head in visible annoyance, "That's not happening."

The air shifted, tension climbing slowly between the group. Thomas pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, sucking on it harshly once it was lit. The smoke from his lips bellowed upwards, his blue eyes resting on his aunt's face. Polly's dark stare darted between him and Evelyn, as if she was holding a silent conversation with her nephew.

It sparked a fire of annoyance. Who gave the Shelby's permission to decide her fate? With a long sigh, Evelyn brought her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes harshly. The clock was ticking down to something dark — something bigger than she could have ever anticipated. She sensed it this morning, when she fell into the depths of the spirits call. And each day she stood still, her father drew her son farther away.

"I'm talking to Zilpha," Evelyn finally said, her voice louder than she anticipated. As she drew her hands away from her face, Thomas flicked his attention towards her curiously.

"The Lees are the only ones left who are willing to help kill my father," Evelyn reiterated, "The smartest thing to do is to not make them angry. If Zilpha wants to meet with me, then I am going to do it."

"That's where you're wrong," Thomas replied casually, though his icy stare locked with hers, his eyes boring into her skull, "The Lees aren't the only ones who want to kill Danior Heron. The Peaky Blinders want him dead as well. So, the next question is, what does that mean for the enemy's daughter?"

"We won't find out unless I meet with Zilpha," Evelyn held her attention, fixing her face into one that matched Thomas's energy. She needed to show that she was strong; that she wasn't nervous or doubtful of what the Lees could want from her, or what the Peaky Blinders were capable of. Any inkling of weakness would mean she would be left behind — and with that, her chance of finding her son.

This, though, she was good at. For the last ten years, Evelyn had been putting on a front that showed she wasn't afraid of her father — of his cruelty and malice, of his constant demands and oppressive ideologies. She had eaten his punches and deflected his words, all with a straight face. She never broke, and Evelyn would be damned if she let a man like Thomas Shelby succeed where her own father couldn't.

"Might I remind you of my promise earlier?" Evelyn spoke again, this time with more confidence, "I am with you."

Thomas's face softened briefly — it was quick, and it was a moment of weakness that only Evelyn caught. He coughed quickly, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to hide it. Evelyn knew this had been enough to convince him.

Next to her, Polly clicked her tongue, "Well, I vote that we let the girl come."

"We need her, Tom," Arthur assured, "That old hat won't see us without her."

Thomas finally looked away, a small tinge of pink casting across the bridge of his nose. He didn't like being outnumbered, and Evelyn's words had only flustered him more so. Silently, he walked over to the smoldering fire, before using the side of his boot to kick loose dirt overtop. The small flames dulled, the earth sizzling as the red and orange hues turned to plumes of white smoke.

"Fucking gypsies," Thomas muttered, tossing his dead butt into the ashes. He turned back to the group, avoiding Evelyn entirely, "Aye, Arthur - John - pack up the vans. Polly and I will load the horses. We head towards the Lees by midday, we should get there by nightfall."

"What should I do?" Evelyn asked, as Thomas and Polly turned their backs and began their trek towards the horses, who were grazing some distance away. His back hunched forwards slightly as he walked away, his large wool coat opening against the wind. Her gaze traveled down his backside, resting on his hand, where she watched him roll it into a fist before relaxing.

Without looking back at her, Thomas shouted, "You wait for me to give you orders."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

No one seemed to want to speak as the group headed in the direction of the Lee's encampment. Arthur led the way, riding on the back of Dreamer with Thomas and Monaghan Boy following a step behind. Evelyn trudged along next to John, who was rightfully annoyed by the news that his horse had "run-off." Evelyn felt guilty but could not bring herself to admit to him that she had been the one to lose his horse.

The reality that Evelyn would be confronting the Lees after so many years sparked an almost debilitating nervousness within her. Memories stirred, ones that reeked of an evil brutality and power-hungry men, of women's screams and children crying for their mothers. She could smell the rancid sharpness of an unknown man's sweat as he gripped her neck to pin her to the ground, her vision tumbling in and out of darkness as the stars above swirled in rapid circles.

Evelyn gulped suddenly, as if she could no longer breath, as if she were back in that moment, and she immediately reached for her pendant, tearing it off her neck looking from some relief.

Next to her, John side-eyed Evelyn, chewing on a toothpick, "You alright?"

Evelyn blinked, her present-reality solidifying into view, "Yeah," she mumbled, "Just couldn't sleep."

He nodded once, adjusting his peaked cap, before jutting his chin towards the locket that she was gripped in her palm, "What's in there?"

She glanced down at the pendant, the rounded silver glinting against the sunshine. Evelyn clicked it open, revealing the small photograph of her son and the dried flower she had stolen from Thomas's van. John stepped closer to her as they walked, peering down at the small, black and white image with a curious expression.

"That's my son," she said quietly, tilting it in John's direction so he could get a better view.

"He's got your eyes," John smiled, and he pointed to the empty space within the pendant, meant for another image, "I think your lover is meant to go there, eh?"

Evelyn snorted, snapping it the pendant shut instantly, "Once I find someone worth taking a picture of, perhaps I'll consider it. For now, this pendant belongs to my son."

John roared with laughter as he shook his head, "Tommy said you were a spitfire."

He had been talking about her?  Her eyes glanced slightly to her left, where Thomas bobbed against the rhythm of his horse trotting. She could have sworn that his ears perked at the sound of his name, but on the outside he appeared completely in his head.

"He doesn't know the half of it," Evelyn mumbled, slipping the necklace back over her head. The cool metal came to rest where it always did, warming against the heat of her skin, "What about you then? You got a woman? Children?"

John's amusement fell from his face, and he looked away from Evelyn, his eyes fixating on the road beneath their feet, "I got two boys and two girls."

Evelyn's eyebrows rose out of shock, "I don't see any children runnin' around here. They with their mum?"

He hesitated, pain creasing the features of his full lips. Unlike Tommy, who's emotion was locked deep within his head, John wore his on his sleeve. The innocence and naivety that Tommy lacked, was ever present in youngest of the three Shelby's, "My wife is dead. She died shortly after I came back from France."

It was in this moment that Evelyn's mind pricked, a tingling sensation etching itself on the side of her skull. It was the same feeling that had taken over her earlier that morning, but instead of fighting, Evelyn tried to embrace it.

She knew there was a spirit near John now, attempting to make its presence known. She willed it to come closer, to give a sign perhaps, but the moment that she tried to grasp at the energy, it dissipated entirely, causing a lick of irritation.

"Someone's around you," Evelyn announced to him without much thought, "But I can't see who it is."

John blinked in surprise, his mouth dropping open slightly, "Martha?"

But Evelyn gave him a sympathetic shrug, and she quickly looked elsewhere. She shouldn't have said anything — she knew from her mother that dabbling in the spirits was tricky business. It gave people false hope; a trail of never-ending breadcrumbs that never kept one's belly satisfied. She needed to be more careful with her gift, especially around the Shelby's.

Especially around Thomas.

"Where are your children now?" Evelyn asked him, in an attempt to change the subject.

John sighed, blowing his cheeks, "They live with Martha's mum outside of Brimingham. I couldn't take care of them on my own, and when Kimber swept through...It just wasn't safe to have them around me."

"And my father," she added, and John pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. Anger and resentment rose within her, towards her own kin for being so brutally selfish towards another man's family. It was one thing to go after a man for power and money, but it was another thing to target their women and children.

Danior was ruthless in that sense. It's what made others fear him. Because, unlike every other gang in this world, the Heron men and their allies never held back. They had no boundaries; everyone was up for slaughter when the time came.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn finally said to John, "I'm sorry that my father tore your family apart."

With a sigh, John shoved his hands deep into the recesses of his pockets before bumping his shoulder lightly against Evelyn's. The gesture was warm and sympathetic, one that meant John was trying to bring comfort between them both.

"I'm sorry he tore your family apart too."