Chapter 6: A Cold Deal
The alleyway was a choked, stinking pit of refuse and decay. The air was a thick, humid brew of wet garbage and something else, something metallic and rotten. It was the perfect place for a quiet, desperate transaction. Sam, a small, wiry man with the haunted eyes of a cornered animal, was hunched against a brick wall, his face a mask of weary defeat. The System had flagged him as a low-level criminal with a high probability of going to prison for his debts. He was a perfect asset.
Luca, a silent shadow in the gloom, approached him. "Looks like you've got a problem," Luca said, his voice low and even. "And I've got a solution."
Sam's head snapped up. His eyes, wide with suspicion, darted from Luca's face to the darkness behind him. "Who are you?" he said, his voice a dry croak. "You a copper?"
"No," Luca said. "I'm a man who's got a problem with the same people you do. And I'm willing to help you out."
Sam's cynicism was a palpable thing. "Why? What's the catch? Nobody helps nobody in this city."
"Is he helping this man, or is he simply acquiring a disposable asset?" The question, a small, nagging voice of conscience, echoed in Luca's mind. The System, for its part, was a cold, logical, and amoral presence.
The numbers were all that mattered to the System. The human element, the fear in Sam's eyes, the desperation in his voice, was a variable it didn't compute. Luca, for his part, felt a flicker of guilt, but he pushed it down. He was in a war, and in a war, you didn't think about the pawns; you thought about the chessboard.
"No catch," Luca said. "Just a favor. I'll pay off your debt. No interest. No questions."
Sam stared at him, his face a mix of disbelief and hope. He was a desperate man, and desperate men made desperate choices. He knew Luca's offer was too good to be true, but he also knew he had no other options.
"All right," Sam said, his voice a whisper. "But I need to know the terms."
"Later," Luca said. "Meet me tomorrow night. Same time, same place."
The pub was a stark contrast to the grimy alleyway. It was warm and inviting, a place of comforting smells and low, hushed conversations. The fire in the hearth cast a warm, dancing glow on the faces of the patrons. But at their small, secluded table, the air was cold and calculating.
"All I need is a favor," Luca said, his voice a low hum. "When I ask for it, you do it. Simple as that."
Sam was still wary. He had been a small-time criminal his whole life, and he knew a trap when he saw one. "And if I refuse?"
Luca's Gambler's Calm was in full effect. He met Sam's gaze, his eyes a calm, placid lake. "Then you go back to the bookies. And I get my money back."
Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat. He had no other choice. The pub, with its warm, inviting fire, stood in ironic contrast to the cold, calculating nature of the deal being made. Luca was not a good person. He was a better criminal. He was using a man's desperation, his fear, as a tool. He saw Sam not as a person, but as a probability, a variable in his grand equation. The System, his silent accomplice, confirmed it.
The numbers were cold, hard facts. He had acquired a new asset, a new pawn in his game. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of clean, crisp bills. He had withdrawn them from a new account, a new bank, a new life. He handed them to Sam. "The debt is paid. Now you belong to me."
The Shelby-affiliated bookie, a greasy-haired man named Frankie, was counting his money when Sam approached him. Sam, a look of profound relief and fear on his face, handed him a thick wad of bills.
"Here," Sam said, his voice a little too loud, a little too shaky. "It's all there."
Frankie's eyes widened. "Where'd you get this kind of money, lad? It's all clean. You rob a bank?"
Sam just shook his head, a grim, defeated look on his face. "I got a friend."
Frankie, suspicious, took the money. It was clean. Too clean. He had never seen such a large sum of money that wasn't covered in a thin, greasy layer of blood and grime. He knew a pattern when he saw one. He found a Shelby runner, a man named Alfie, and told him the story.
"He paid it all off. In cash. Clean money. You see that often?"
"No," Alfie said, his eyes narrowed. "Only from the boss himself."
The news of the clean money, the anonymous benefactor, spread like wildfire. The bookie's story made its way back to Arthur Shelby, a man who saw threats where others saw coincidences. "This new player, whoever he is, is operating outside the rules," he thought. "And that's something I can't abide." This new enemy wasn't a common criminal; he was an infection. The clean money, the quiet dealings, it was all too precise. It was a new kind of enemy, one who was not driven by desperation but by a larger, unknown agenda.
Arthur, his paranoia now a roaring fire in his chest, gave the order. "Find the source of the money," he said, his voice a low growl. "Not just the man who paid it. The man who gave it to him." The hunt for Luca, once a low-level annoyance, had now become a full-scale operation.
Love [ Peaky Blinders: Luca's Gambit ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ Peaky Blinders: Luca's Gambit ] with exclusive access to 35+ chapters on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [Grimm, Teen Wolf ,blacklist,Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!