Shelby Manor – Early Morning
The day had come. The calm before the storm was over. The Shelbys had spent the night together in a rare moment of peace, but now, as dawn broke over the horizon, the harsh reality of their situation returned.
James stood by the window in the manor, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The soft light of the morning seemed to mock the gravity of the day ahead. His mind was still a whirlwind of thoughts—the prophecy, the fire inside him, Tatiana's cryptic words, and the deep, suffocating desire for vengeance. But he couldn't afford to be distracted. Today, the Economic League would be the target of their retaliation.
Behind him, Tommy's voice cut through the silence.
"We need to hit them hard," he said, his tone as cold as the steel he carried with him.
"They've made their move, and now it's our turn."
James turned to face him. The fire inside him burned brighter than ever. It was no longer just a flicker in the back of his mind. It was alive, thrumming in his veins, urging him to strike—to burn everything down.
"I'll be ready," James replied, though his voice carried the weight of the uncertainty he had yet to resolve within himself.
Tommy's gaze lingered on him for a moment, something like concern in his eyes. But it was fleeting, quickly masked by the ruthlessness that defined him.
"Good," Tommy said, nodding as if to himself. "We don't get many chances like this. The League is strong, but they're not invincible. We strike fast. We hit them where it hurts."
Arthur and Michael stood nearby, already preparing for the war ahead. Their faces were hard, resolute. For Arthur, this was another fight to prove himself. For Michael, it was another test of loyalty.
Polly entered the room, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she approached the table. She didn't speak at first, but her eyes were sharp as always, taking in the gathered men and the tense atmosphere.
"We need to act carefully," she said, her voice steady. "The League won't go down easily. We're dealing with powerful people. This isn't just about muscle. It's about strategy."
James nodded, grateful for her wisdom. He had always respected Polly's ability to see beyond the immediate threat.
"We'll have to move fast," Tommy said, pulling out a map of London and spreading it across the table. "We'll target their businesses first, cripple their operations. Then we hit them where it hurts—attack their finances. If we take their money, we take their power."
The plan was simple, but dangerous. It was exactly what the Shelbys had always done: strike with precision, hit their enemies fast and hard, and leave no room for retaliation.
"We need to be ready for their counterattack," James said, his voice laced with the fire inside him. "They'll retaliate, and they won't stop until we're all dead."
Polly's eyes softened for a moment, but she didn't say anything. She knew that James was speaking from a place of fear—fear of the unknown, of the power inside him, and of the consequences of his actions.
Tommy didn't hesitate. He picked up a cigar, lit it, and took a long drag. "We've been in worse situations before, James. We'll survive this."
London Streets – Later that Day
The Shelbys were out in force. James, Tommy, Arthur, Michael, and a handful of their most trusted men moved through the streets of London with a quiet, dangerous purpose. The Peaky Blinders were always a force to be reckoned with, but today, they were more than just a criminal gang. They were an army—united in their goal to bring the Economic Leagueto its knees.
James felt the familiar weight of his coat on his shoulders, the flash of his blades under his sleeves. But it wasn't the steel he carried that made him dangerous today. It was the power within him. The fire that had been building ever since he had first heard the prophecy.
They arrived at one of the League's key warehouses—a front for their operations. The men inside had no idea the storm that was about to hit.
Tommy motioned for James to lead the way.
"Let's show them how the Shelbys fight," Tommy said with a cold grin.
James nodded, his breath coming fast. The fire was alive in him, burning brighter with each step he took toward the warehouse.
This wasn't just a mission to take down the League—it was personal. The whispers of the prophecy echoed in his mind, urging him forward.
The Peaky Blinders stormed in. James's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room.
The League's men were scattered, trying to regroup, but they were no match for the efficiency of the Blinders. Tommy and Arthur were already on the move, knocking out the guards with brutal force.
But James didn't go for the easy kill. He moved with purpose, his gaze falling on the leader of the operation—a man named Harris, known for his ruthlessness in dealing with enemies.
James felt the fire within him flare, his body moving without thinking. The air around him seemed to crackle with energy as he stepped forward, his movements precise, controlled.
He drew his blade, slicing through the air with an ease that was almost supernatural. The fight felt different today—easier, almost.
Harris's eyes widened as he saw James approaching. The fear in the man's gaze sent a rush of satisfaction through him. Harris had no idea what he was up against.
"You're a dead man," Harris spat, pulling a gun from his coat.
James's reaction was instinctive. He raised his hand, and for a split second, he felt the power inside him surge. It was as if the flames that burned within him extended outward, like an invisible force field. Harris fired, but the bullet seemed to slow in mid-air, falling harmlessly to the ground.
The moment stretched. The air seemed to vibrate with an energy that wasn't quite human. James stepped forward and, in one swift motion, disarmed Harris, knocking him to the ground with a punch that sent a shockwave of pain through the man's body.
"You were warned," James said, his voice low, barely more than a growl. "The Shelbys don't back down. And neither do I."
Harris groaned, his hand clutching his chest. His men were already fleeing, terrified. They had underestimated the Blinders—and now, they would pay the price.
James didn't stop to enjoy the victory. He could feel the fire inside him growing, urging him forward. The battle wasn't over, and the League was still a threat. But with each fight, he was getting closer to understanding his power—closer to controlling it.
Shelby Manor – Later that Evening
The family gathered once again in the drawing room, their faces grim but satisfied. The first strike had been successful. The League's warehouse was destroyed, and its operations severely crippled. The Shelbys had sent a clear message.
But James couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough. The fire inside him was restless, always yearning for more. He had tasted power, and it had left him hungry.
Tommy stood at the head of the room, watching the others carefully. "We've won today," he said, his voice steady. "But this war is just beginning."
James's mind was elsewhere. He felt the weight of the prophecy pressing down on him. The fire that had been awakened inside him was not something he could ignore forever. It would either consume him or make him stronger.
"Tomorrow," Tommy continued, "we'll keep pushing forward. We take the fight to them. No mercy."
James looked up at his brother, a spark of determination lighting in his eyes. "No mercy," he echoed, the fire within him burning even brighter.