As the clock struck the hour, Tommy stood up, adjusted his overcoat, and stepped out into the rain-slicked streets. The "HUN-nIk" crew might have captured the moment in high definition, but the grit of Small Heath was something no lens could fully soften. The Peaky Blinders were moving, and when they moved, the world held its breath.
It was 1919, and in the industrial heart of Birmingham, the didn't just walk the streets; they owned the rhythm of the city.
The smoke in was thick enough to chew on, but the tension hanging over the table in the corner was even heavier. Tommy Shelby sat with a gold-tipped cigarette between his fingers, his eyes fixed on a man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth.