Page 37 of White Rabbit

There was something about coming here, the risk of getting caught, the secrecy, that had my body on edge, riding an adrenaline wave I didn’t want to come down from. There’s also something about Rosie Gambino that seemed to pull me in. Shoving the three balls into my pocket, I leave, as if the whole thing had never happened.

Chapter Nineteen

ELIJAH

Skimming through the latest reports from Cato and Nicco, I sigh. Staying in Ogmore wasn’t luring out our traitorous little rat quickly enough, and I was becoming restless. I wanted to crawl into bed beside Ava each night, instead of watching her sleep on a screen. I wanted to shower and shit on my own. I wanted ten minutes away from the stream of consciousness that was Beans. Soon, I tell myself as I rub my eyes. Very fucking soon.

The reports tell me nothing new. The Cartel is pushing the boundaries, trying to expand beyond Meadowville, and they seem to think that with me behind bars, Newtown is up for grabs. How foolish they are. I reply to Nicco, authorizing a little show of force to remind them just where the lines lay.

Flicking through Cato’s surveillance of Ava, there’s something that's been bothering me, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

“Kal said he’s shifted the magazines and snacks.” Beans says as he wanders into our cell, holding a little slip of paper between his fingers. “He also has the information you want.”

“About time,” I grumble. While I didn’t strictly need Kal, or the information he could get me, I knew the importance of loyalty and chains of command. If I didn’t establish myself now that I'd handled Tiny and landed him in solitary, I ran a risk of being a target when he was eventually released with the rest of us.

The information I’d requested wasn’t exactly top secret either, I’d simply asked for a list of security camera blind spots and the guard rotations. Now, I’d done nothing but observe since arriving at Ogmore, which means I already knew those shift patterns like the back of my hand. Getting the blind spots also wouldn’t be a huge difficulty, but I wanted to build those networks inside these walls.

Glancing at Kal’s ugly scrawl, I work out that my best option is to wait until this evening, when they would play a movie in one of the recreational rooms.

It turns out I’m right as one inmate starts a bit of a brawl during the showing of The Lorax, meaning that the guard's attention is diverted. With a small switchblade tucked in my sleeve, Beans and I slip from the room and begin walking towards a small corridor just off the recreation rooms to the left. It’s an older part of the building and while there is a security camera, apparently it hasn’t been working properly for a while now, but the powers that be haven’t bothered getting it repaired.

As we walk past the recreation room that Louis, Sanchez and a few other Cartel members like to use, I slow my pace. I’m like catnip to these fuckers, and no doubt they’ll want revenge for Tiny if they think they can get it.

“Hey!” Sanchez calls, following us into the corridor, but I don’t turn around. “I said, hey!”

A large hand lands on my shoulder, spinning my body, which is such a rookie move as I shift into the motion, pulling out my knife and pinning him to the wall. Sanchez swallows, his neck moving against the tip of my blade.

“We don’t want no problems,” he grunts, holding out his hands in surrender.

I can’t help the bitter laugh that leaves my lips. “That’s why you followed me out here? You hear that Beans? They don’t want any problems.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Beans, the scrawny little thing that he is, has pinned Louis to the wall is pressing a metal file against the man’s pulse point.

Turning back to Sanchez, I tut. “See, that in itself is an issue. Because I want to send a message, and I’m going to carve it on your skin. But that’s more of a ‘you’ problem.”

As I sink the point of my knife into Sanchez’ cheek, I hear a struggle behind me. Sanchez clenches his teeth and makes a straining noise, but he knows better than to move.

My blade might be small, but it cuts through flesh like butter, as I draw out the White Rabbit logo. There would be no mistaking the message I’m sending when The Cartel bosses see a rabbit on Sanchez’ face.

The sound of someone being slapped reaches my ears over Sanchez’ heavy breathing, and without bothering to turn this time, I hiss a quiet warning. “Louis, my friend! Sit still because you’re not leaving this unscathed either.”

“There are bigger things at play out there than us,” Sanchez spits through almost gritted teeth as I finish up on the rabbit’s ears. “You have no idea who’s pulling the strings, and when they come for you…”

Blood trickles down his cheek, flowing freely as I go back and retouch some of my lines. Well, I might be able to draw on paper, but cutting into skin was a different thing entirely.

Pulling away, but keeping hold of his face in a firm grip, I turn his face to get a look at my handiwork. When I’m satisfied, I bring my knee up to his stomach and knock the wind out of him, leaving him to crumple on the floor.

Glaring up at me as he struggles to catch his breath, he rasps, “I’m going to watch you choke on your own intestines, Left Hand. I promise you that.”

Chuckling, I begin adding my masterpiece on Louis’ plump cheek. “Can you even spell intestines, Sanchez? Do you know where in your body they're found, because I’d be happy to show you.”

“Now, tell me who the puppeteer is?” I’m almost finished with my art as Louis’ whimpering loudly, sounding more pathetic than Sanchez’ restrained huffs had been. Over my shoulder, I sing-song, “Don’t go quiet on me Sanchez.”

Finishing Louis bunny leaves him in a bawling mess of tears, snot and blood. I don’t bother hitting him. The fucker can barely breathe on his own, let alone if I buried my knee in his gut.

Beans coughs awkwardly, “Uhhh, Creed…”

Turning to see what the problem is, I’m met with Hari Houdini practically sitting on Sanchez’ chest, as the man lays unconscious on the floor. He’s holding Sanchez’ tongue between his thumb and finger, and I can see he’s cut several slices into the pink fleshy muscle. A slow grin spreads across his face and for the first time, I get a glimpse of why he might be behind bars.

---