Page 7 of White Rabbit

What had gotten under his skin so badly? He was usually unfazed by everything. His position as a judge meant he’d seen and heard it all before. My father had earned a reputation for being unflappable, and yet…here he was, acting like I'd summoned a demon at the dining table.

“Left-hand?” I push, trying my luck. Hoping for something, anything.

“Ava, I refuse to talk any more about it. Just stay away.” He shuts me down. I recognize that tone from my childhood—he wasn’t going to budge on this topic.

I nod, not saying a word as Andrew continues to stare right through me.

Hadn't my father learned yet that the more he warned me away from something, the more drawn to it I was?

I was like a moth to a flame and Elijah Creed was burning ever so brightly.

Chapter Five

ELIJAH

My first week at Ogmore goes by quickly, days fading into a blur of boring routine.

Wake up.

Eat shit food.

Spend time in my cell.

Eat shit food.

Spend time in the yard or in the communal lounge.

Eat shit food.

Cold shower.

Spend time in the communal lounge or in my cell.

Bed.

I would kill for some of Rosie’s baking right now. Fuck, I’d even play nice and avoid antagonizing her while I sat and ate with her. Jules would laugh if he realized all it took for us to get along was a week with prison food.

I’m told I’ll be able to meet with my lawyer next week, and my commissary account and phone credit have finally been set up. No doubt the delays were intentional, but that makes me question just how deep into the sewage system my little rat is and who’s really pulling the strings here.

Settling in was easy. It was just like juvie, only the inmates were older and a little more vicious. Not that young offenders couldn’t be vicious, because I had seen some terrifying things in youth correctional, but adults have this lifetime of rage built up. All the disappointments that led them here. Every betrayal, every act of violence and every slight, were cataloged away until something on the inside tipped them over the edge into the abyss and then it was like a berserker being unleashed.

Prison was dangerous, a boiling pot, stirring up all that anger. The system treated us like animals—we were tagged, caged, watched through the glass and occasionally poked with a stick. They thought we were monsters. And they were right. Mostly.

Warden Williamson is far too busy for the likes of little old me, and so I’d only glimpsed the man in passing. He barely spared me a second glance as he made his way to the officer areas, pale blue eyes flickering over my face before looking away.

He was tall, and slim, but there was nothing noteworthy about him besides his arrogance; he wore that on his sleeve with pride. It’s funny how society forgets about the other monsters out there while worrying about us. The ones in the expensive suits, living in their mansions, driving their posh cars.

If Warden Williamson wanted to pretend he didn’t know exactly who I was, if he wanted to relegate me to the position of someone unimportant, then let him. I’d grown up with a father who was more brutal and bloodthirsty than Williamson could even imagine.

Augustine Creed often reminded me just how worthless I was while making me defend myself against men twice my age in one of his fighting cages at The Gryphon. I was hardly going to cry or question my power because one man in a suit didn’t look my way for longer than three seconds. Being back at the bottom rung of the ladder was a feeling I wasn’t used to, and I can’t say I was particularly enjoying it.

Granted, the other inmates seemed wary of me, especially the ones who knew me. But I was still in an influence deficit here, and I knew it. I needed to work my way up fast, or I'd risk being a sitting duck.

Prison survival was a game, and I intended to win. I had been right about my new sidekick, Beans, being the font of all knowledge inside these walls. Eager little puppy that he was, he was only too happy to share the details of gangs, contraband, and prison terms. He was like a hierarchy encyclopedia, having figured out the intricacies of how things worked during the three years he’d already been locked up, and I intended to use him to navigate my way back to the top.

I’d been through worse shit than this and come out the other side stronger. No one gets raised inside the mafia and lets something like prison break them.

When Beans got out of here, and if he kept himself clean, I might consider bringing him to work with us. We were constantly branching out, and our latest venture, White Rabbit, could always use a few extra hands pushing it. Especially with The Cartel, a rival gang, trying to block us at every turn.

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