Avos'

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤

"CHARLIE THOMAS SHELBY, THIS IS NOT FUNNY!"

Oksana stops halfway down the stairs, hanging onto the railing as she tries to catch her breath. Once she does, she straightens up and tries to come up with some sort of calming chant in her head to remind her that taking care of children requires the patience of a saint.

And saints don't shout their hearts out at four-year-olds who are deceptively good at hide-and-seek.

Granted, she never should have said yes. When Charlie had practically begged her for a quick round before bed, refusing to brush his teeth if they didn't, she should have held her ground and threatened to summon his father.

But, no, she had caved the second he pouted his lips and she's convinced he found a way to bring tears to his eyes by command.

So, now she's stuck searching for Charlie, feeling foolish for having underestimated his talents, and cursing that it's twenty minutes past his bedtime. She rounds the corner of the stairs, checking the living room which is empty, the sitting room which is dark, and the kitchen which is filled with the rest of her staff that gives her a questioning look.

She groans when she spots that the front door is open and reminds herself to explain to Charlie that this technically counts as cheating.

It's freezing outside, chill with the warning of snow to come, and her teeth chatter as she focuses her ears to see if she can hear a soft pattering of footsteps or a wayward giggle. She hears crunching in the distance and follows the sound, but she comes upon a scene she had not been a hundred percent prepared for.

Instantly, she recognizes both of Tommy's brothers, even though she's only met them once. It's hard to forget their rough stubbly faces or the fact that the oldest Arthur has a wild animalistic glint in his eyes or the tell-tale markers in John's stance that makes him look like he's perpetually looking for something to fuck. There is a man she doesn't know, one that truly resembles a gypsy with his dark complexion and array of jewelry.

Tommy's here too, but using the word here might be a stretch.

Tommy stands just and tall and just as proud as he normally does, his presence commanding an air of undisputed respect, but there's something off about him.

He looks relaxed, too relaxed, and there's a cold withering spark in his eyes. She's used to seeing that, used to seeing the way he views everything as an opportunity, having seen the more apathetic side of him since their unfortunate horse ride. However, tonight, there's something there that she's only seen in the eyes of a few men.

Evil.

She hates that word. It implies that there is such a thing as good and evil, wrong and right, black and white, but that's what it is. The blue in his stare is no longer meticulous and calculating- well, it is- but it's also terribly dark.

She trains herself on what he's directing that horridness too, and she has to hold back the gasp that threatens to escape her when she sees that there are actually five men hidden in the isolating horse stables.

The fifth man, for a lack of better words, is wrecked. His white button-up shirt is coated in blood, his nose is turned in a grotesque direction, his lip is split down the middle, and one of his eyes is shut.

Despite her instincts telling her to flee, she moves closer, hoping that the sounds of the whimpering man on the floor mask her steps.

"I don't recognize you," Tommy says, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leans against a stable and juts his chin at the man. "I know all my staff- their names, their faces, their mannerisms- and you aren't familiar."