Page 52 of White Rabbit

If Creed could see me now, would he still call me his White Rabbit? I originally thought the drug related nickname was an odd choice from the mafioso, but it made some sense now that I knew how the dots connected.

Julian Asaro was the main shareholder for a holding company called WunderLnd Corporation.

He was also the head of the mafia.

His wife was known as the Queen of Hearts.

One of their main products was called…White Rabbit.

What kind of world was I getting myself into?

Were they all mad here?

Sitting back in my father’s worn brown leather chair, I realize the background noise of the vacuuming has stopped. A few minutes later, I hear Elsie lugging the vacuum downstairs, judging by the banging and thumping.

Shit, it was time to get out of here before she came in to clean up and found me. Grabbing my memory stick and phone, I shove both of them in my hoodie pocket. Cracking open the office door, I listen to her pottering around in the kitchen. I wait for her to turn the radio on before I sneak over to the front door. As she sings along to some upbeat pop song, smiling to myself, I use the noise to slip out.

Half-way down the street, the hair on the back of my neck rises and footsteps on the sidewalk make me think someone is following me. Who the heck would follow me?

Shaking my head, I slide my hands into my front pocket and wrap my hand around my knife. I was just being paranoid, but even just holding it made me feel better. Exhaling, I straighten my shoulders and keep walking. The steps continue, keeping pace with me.

Glancing towards an alleyway up ahead, I change direction and duck down it, picking up the pace. When I reach the end, I stand with my back against the building, waiting to see if someone emerges behind me.

As those familiar footsteps get closer, I hear someone hiss. “Shit, we lost her.”

Maybe I wasn’t so paranoid after all.

Turning back into the alley, I charge, tackling whoever was following me against the wall. We grapple for a few minutes, pushing and shoving until I force them back. I hold my knife against their neck as my other arm presses against their chest, pinning them in place.

“Woah!” Hazel eyes, similar to mine, narrow in warning as a perfectly arched brow rises. “You almost took my eye out.”

Another person enters the alley and I glare between the two of them. “Who the fuck are you and why are you assholes following me?”

The figure pinned against the brickwork is dressed far too stylishly to be a thug looking to mug me. Dyed green hair is artfully pinned up in a messy bun that’s held in place with two black and gold hair sticks. Their clothes are all black, but there’s a lot of silver jewelry, from the lip ring and the many studs and hoops in their ears to the rings on their delicate fingers.

“I’m Cato. They/them.” Their melodious voice sounds amused as they gesture to the other person in the alley. “That’s Nicco.”

Now Nicco is what I imagine when I picture a member of the mafia. He’s got dark chestnut hair that swoops back off his forehead as if he’d recently run one of his large hands haphazardly through it. His suit is smart, but not designer, and he’s got three buttons undone on his shirt, revealing a smattering of chest hair and a gold chain with a pendant of some saint. He’s also a big boy, six foot three, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. The fear I feel creeping in vanishes when his handsome face cracks into a wide, friendly grin.

“He/him,” Nicco supplies helpfully before winking at Cato. “Did I do that right?”

“Yes, you did, love.” Cato rolls their eyes, with an affectionate smile ghosting their lips. “Are you going to lower your knife? You seem a little twitchy and I’d rather not get blood on my blouse. It’s Tom Ford.”

Wait…Where had I heard that name before? Stepping back, I lower my weapon and take a closer look at them, recognizing the green hair from the charity auction. “Cato? Ro’s Cato?”

“Oh fuck.” Cato places their fingers just above their eyebrows, making circular rubbing motions. “What’s she been saying about me now?”

Folding my knife away and sliding it back into my pocket, I check that my phone and memory stick are where they should be and I hadn't lost them during the tussle. “You still haven’t explained why you’re following me.”

“We were watching over the house, and you surprised us. You're not supposed to be here.” Nicco and Cato share a look, some sort of telepathic conversation happening between them I’m not privy to. Cato crosses their arms, giving me an accusatory stare. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was fired today.” Huffing, I kick some garbage near my feet. I wasn’t that angry about my job. I really wasn’t. But I was going to miss my art class. I was trying not to think about how Eli was still behind bars for God knows how long. “My father said if I didn’t quit, he would make me. The next time I go into work I’m called into the warden’s office and the rest is pretty self-explanatory.”

Cato’s lips twist in a grimace. “Hmmmm. Naughty daddy.”

Curling my lip in disgust, I grumble, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Yeah. Sorry, that was too far, even for me.” Looking sheepish, Cato shrugs and the nonchalant action makes them seem younger. “So, what’ve you got in there?”

---