Small Heath woke slowly beneath a blanket of grey clouds. The streets were already alive with the sound of horses, factory whistles, and market stalls being dragged into place. Men tipped their caps to the Shelby brothers as they passed, quickly looking away when Tommy’s cold blue eyes met theirs. Across the street, unnoticed by almost everyone, a young Romani woman knelt beside a weathered wagon, carefully tying bundles of lavender and wildflowers with faded pieces of ribbon. Wind pulled loose strands of dark hair across her face, but she paid them no mind, her attention fixed on her work. Tommy noticed. Only for a second. His gaze lingered just long enough to see that she was safe before he continued walking without changing his expression. Arthur never questioned it. John did. His eyes drifted across the street almost by accident, stopping the moment they found her. She wasn’t the loudest person in the market. She wasn’t dressed in expensive clothes. She wasn’t trying to be seen. Yet somehow, she was the only thing he could see. She stood, lifting the basket into her arms, and disappeared into the crowd without ever looking in his direction. John watched until the last glimpse of her vanished between the rows of market stalls. Only then did he realize he had stopped walking.