Birmingham felt smaller as the days passed, like the walls were closing in, suffocating under the weight of secrets and shadows. It wasn't just the Peaky Blinders anymore—there was something more insidious working beneath the surface. Something darker.
Inspector Campbell had made it clear he was after more than just the Shelbys. The more he investigated, the more he realized that James Shelby was no mere soldier in Tommy's ranks. He was a problem—one that Campbell couldn't simply root out through intimidation or fear.
James had made the mistake of showing his hand.
And now Campbell knew he wasn't just hunting a gang leader. He was hunting a ghost.
The morning after the Claytons had been dealt with, James found himself at the betting shop, standing behind the counter as the usual hustle of business moved around him. He'd learned quickly that this wasn't just about strength. The Peaky Blinders' empire was built on connections, on information, and on the ruthless exploitation of every opportunity that came their way.
Tommy had given him an assignment.
"Keep your head down, keep your eyes open. We need to know where the next attack will come from."
James had no objections. He had already been watching the movements of the rival gangs. It wasn't just the Claytons. Other names had surfaced, and the game was getting more dangerous. But James wasn't worried.
Not yet.
Arthur walked in, a bottle of whiskey in his hand and an unreadable look on his face. "You look like you're thinking too much, James," he muttered.
James didn't even flinch. "I think too much when I don't have enough to do."
Arthur chuckled, slapping him on the back with a force that made James' bones creak. "Well, we've got work coming. The Cartel's trying to muscle in. Word is they're looking for a way to take out the Shelbys once and for all."
James nodded, his eyes scanning the room. "Then we find them first."
Arthur took a long swig from his bottle and smiled. "That's the spirit."
But James' mind was already elsewhere.
Across town, Campbell was seething. His every move had been watched by someone. He'd grown too cautious, too slow, and it was making him reckless. The news of the Claytons' defeat spread quickly—too quickly. Campbell had believed that his men could control the streets, that his position as an inspector gave him the advantage. But now he knew that he was just as vulnerable as any other man in this city.
The word had spread like wildfire: James Shelby had stepped into the fray, and he was far more dangerous than Campbell had ever anticipated. No one had ever seen him coming. No one had ever seen him leave.
He had to find a way to break him, to uncover whatever it was that made James Shelby so untouchable.
Campbell stood by his window, watching the streets below as his mind worked over the options. He wasn't just going to put a bullet in him. He needed to know what kind of man he was dealing with.
"What are you hiding, James Shelby?"
Campbell muttered to himself.
James sat at the edge of the room in the Garrison, watching Tommy and Arthur speak with the other members of the family. The war with the Cartel was heating up, and the Shelbys had to act quickly to stop their expansion into their territory.
"You're quiet tonight," Polly remarked, sitting down across from him. "You've got that look in your eyes."
James didn't answer immediately. He looked out toward the darkened streets through the window. "Just thinking about the Cartel. They won't be the last. And Campbell's still lurking around."
Polly raised an eyebrow. "Campbell doesn't scare you?"
James met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "No."
"You've got a different way of looking at things," Polly said. "I can see that. It's what makes you... useful. But remember, James, this isn't war. It's business. The moment you forget that, you're out of your depth."
James nodded, but Polly's warning didn't register the way it should have. He knew what business was, and he knew how to survive in it. The war had already taken everything from him—his family, his peace. But now he was a Shelby, and it wasn't just about surviving. It was about taking control.
Tommy turned to him, catching his eye. "We've got a problem. Campbell's men are sniffing around again."
James straightened. "I'll deal with them."
Tommy shook his head. "Not yet. We need to know what he's after first. If you strike too soon, it'll bring more heat down on us than we can handle."
James clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm not afraid of Campbell."
Tommy's gaze hardened. "You should be. He's not the type to let anything slide. He's dangerous."
"And I'm not?"
Tommy didn't flinch. "No, you're something else. You've got power, James. But power isn't always the answer."
James stared at Tommy for a long moment, considering the weight of his words. It wasn't the first time Tommy had tried to keep him grounded, and it probably wouldn't be the last.
"Fine," James said, his voice steady. "But if Campbell makes a move, he won't see me coming."
That night, as the Peaky Blinders slept, Campbell was already setting his trap. He had been watching James, tracking his movements, waiting for the right moment to act. He knew now that he couldn't approach the Shelby family head-on. He needed leverage—something to bring James to his knees.
He had a plan.
And this time, it wouldn't be a warning.
As James made his way through the city's darkened streets, the familiar chill of the hunt settled in. He could feel it—the presence of someone following him. But this time, it wasn't just the usual underworld scum looking to make a name for themselves.
This time, it was Campbell.
James didn't turn around. He didn't need to.
But as the footsteps grew louder, and the night air seemed to grow heavier, he finally spoke, his voice a low whisper in the darkness.
"Is this your move, Campbell?"
The footsteps stopped.
And then the voice replied, smooth, but with a dangerous edge. "Not yet, Mr. Shelby. But it's coming."
James smiled, a dangerous, knowing smile.
Let Campbell think he had the upper hand. Let him set his traps. James was no longer the soldier he had once been. He was something more. And he was going to make Campbell wish he had never set his sights on the Shelbys.