Page 1 of White Rabbit

Chapter One

ELIJAH

I’d fucked up big time.

A momentous fuckup.

A fuckery of epic proportions.

This was not where I was supposed to be. I was the Left Hand of The Family. How had I ended up here? Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch as they open the door to the transport bus. A male officer who smells like tobacco and stale sweat places a hand on my arm, trying to shove me forward, but I snarl at him, snapping my teeth in his face.

I’ll bite the fucker’s nose off if he touches me again. I’d done it before. Messy as fuck, but it sends a message.

“Calm it down, Creed.” Officer Brentwood says, sounding bored, and I take it for what it is. A request. I’ll oblige him, because he’s one of ours. But the slimy cunt who keeps trying to touch me isn’t, and he needs to learn. Barely two minutes pass before he tries to assert himself again. Sorry Brentwood, but I’m not the problem here.

The heat of his hand lands on my arm once more, and I register a second warmth on my back before stomping my foot down onto his with a grunt. As his body folds in on itself with a wail, I headbutt him.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” I warn as he crumples to the floor, clutching his bleeding nose. Pussy.

The other men crowding me are quicker at reading the room, stepping away to give me breathing space. They think I’m dangerous, and they’d be right about that.

I should be in Newtown getting my dick sucked, eating pie, drinking beer with Jules, and kicking Rosie’s ass at our little game.

Not necessarily in that order, but I was on a winning streak with what was now dubbed the ‘Kill Count’. It was going to be my crowning glory. I was supposed to emerge the victor over that unhinged creature Jay called his wife. I don’t give a shit if she makes the best croissants in Newtown, the woman was deranged and it was laughable that she thought she was more dangerous than me. Me. Pfft, I snorted, startling the man who stood closest to me. She wasn’t more dangerous, just more volatile.

Instead of reveling in the vices that made my life bearable, I was here, where it smelled faintly of piss. There was now blood spattered on my shoes and a rogue spider seemed determined to make its way up my trouser leg. Didn’t they know who I was?

Metal jangles around my wrists as I slide into my seat in the back of the transport bus, ignoring the way the guard sitting inside watches me as if I might suddenly explode. I’m not some combustible breed of criminal. I work for the mafia, we have class. Sometimes.

The guard’s dark eyes would burn a hole through my skin if they could, and the raw rage flickering within them is interesting. Does he know me personally? Have I offended him somehow? Did I fuck his mother? Or does he get off in seeing men larger and stronger than him in chains? Does he have a power kink? I stare at him back, barely noticing as the second guard clambers in behind me and clips my feet chains to the floor, muttering about how it’s a ‘safety measure’.

The engine starts, and I settle into the rocking motion of the tin-can bus as we leave the city. I rarely leave Newtown. It’s where my family has lived for generations and I’m perfectly content with the fact I’ll likely die in the shitty city too. In fact, I was raised to expect nothing less, especially in my line of work.

Tilting my head back, I watch as the passing landscape blurs and we head towards Ogmore Grange. To my new home for the next couple of weeks.

A few hours later, the hustle and bustle of the city is behind us as we head down a dirt track into the middle of nowhere. The sky glows orange as the sun sets, but the soft shade does nothing to quench the unease in the pit of my stomach. Inhaling, I tilt my head back, taking deep, slow breaths as I prepare myself for what comes next.

Prison.

Fucking prison.

Iron bars, Perspex screens, cuffs, shared showers and shit food. People trying to shank you while you take a shit. Contraband and prison bitches. This was not supposed to happen again.

How could I have been stupid enough to get caught? That was sloppy, and I was never sloppy. I’d been raised better than that. I knew what happened when mistakes were made. That’s why none of this makes sense.

Giving up on trying to find some inner calm, I put my head in my hands and groan softly, causing the officers on either side of me to glance over suspiciously. The dark-eyed one shifts his hand to his weapon, finger twitching nervously. So he knew who I was. Interesting.

A few days ago, I’d been at Jules’ house like usual, eating the fresh cheese and herb muffins Rosie left out on the kitchen worktop. She said she left them out to cool, but everyone knows that once it’s out of the oven, it’s all fair game. We’d argued, and Jules had to call a timeout again, but it was her fault for pulling my hair. If she didn’t play dirty, it would never turn into a fight.

How did I get from there to here? And how did it all happen so fast? There was a due process that was supposed to be followed. Fucking procedure. What? They took one look at my tattoos, my record and my surname, and decided I was definitely guilty? That was some biased stereotype bullshit. I mean, technically they weren’t wrong… but the correct process hadn’t been followed.

There had to be a fucking rat amongst my men. A traitor. Being meticulous was something my father had beaten into me until I couldn’t see straight. I learned. I adapted. I left no stone unturned. Burn it all, bleach it, wipe it down, dispose of it?I did them all to ensure that not even a smudged partial print could be found. I knew what I was doing. I’d been in this role a long time and I was a fucking professional.

Only someone close to me would have the opportunity to pull something like this. Someone with access. Fucking rat. And when I found out who it was, I was going to skin them alive. First things first, I had to clear my name. Which was looking pretty impossible, as we pull up to the chain-link fence and huge electric gates, but I knew Jay would have my back. We would fix this. I refused to rot inside these concrete walls.

I mean, I was guilty of my crimes. There was no doubt about that, but there's no way in hell anyone should have been able to prove it. Men like me didn’t just get caught by chance. The Family protected their own, whether they bribed, blackmailed or simply took what they needed to get the job done and I’d been groomed for this role since I was ten. That was when I became a man in my father’s eyes, and men worked. Men protected their families and The Family. It was expected of me, trading my life for protection and for him. I had never known anything else.

I’d spent a short stint in a juvenile detention center when I fucked up at fourteen and never looked back. My father made sure I’d learned my lesson. Only idiots get caught. Incompetence and stupidity were two things he could not tolerate. He was a hard man, Augustine Creed, and I had to face some harsh truths about the world from a young age, but it made me who I am today, it elevated me to the ‘Left Hand’ of The Family. It was my job to protect Jay, to keep him informed, to keep my Captains in line, to dole out punishments and to seek vengeance where needed. I helped run Newtown, keep it ticking over smoothly so that those who live normal, perfect lives can go about their merry little days none the wiser.

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