Page 60 of White Rabbit

“Fuck, he showered quicker than I thought he would,” Andrew slurs with a grin. The man is unhinged.

A moment later, Eli appears in my bedroom door. His dark eyes seem to blaze and he looks at me, kneeling on the floor wrapped in a throw, my face swollen.

“Don’t come any closer, Left Hand.” Eli lifts his hand in surrender, but listens, not taking another step forward. Andrew laughs, cocking the gun. “Looks like we found your weakness Creed, my whore of a sister.”

“Andrew…”

“Shut it, bitch!” He strikes me again, this time with the butt of the gun. The copper tang in my mouth tells me he’s split my lip.

My whole-body tenses as Eli moves into the room, looking bored.

“Stay the fuck back!” Andrew screeches, shifting his body so that he’s still facing Elijah. “I’m warning you!”

“You know why your little scheme with daddy was always going to fail, Bass?” Eli, standing near my window, plays with my blinds, tapping them as if he’s finding the whole situation tedious.

“Why?”

“Because men like you are weak. You don’t have what it takes to lead.” Pulling on the cord for the blind, Eli lets the morning light flood my apartment. “Pathetic, really.”

“Weak?” Andrew bellows, his face red. “I could kill you, both of you.”

“But you’re not going to. Because I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Leaning back so that he’s half perched on my window ledge, Eli crosses his arms. “I can and I will. So, choose, Bass.”

Andrew scoffs and pushes his gun back against my head. “Fuck yo?—”

There’s a muffled bang as the window shatters and Andrew falls to the floor with a hole in his head. Blood oozes out, spreading into a puddle on the hardwood flood.

“Rabbit, are you okay?” he asks as he rushes forward and pulls me into a tight hug. “Talk to me, Ava.”

“No,” I breathe into his neck, my fingers digging into his back as I hold on tight. Bursting into tears, I choke out, “I’m not alright.”

Eli rocks us gently. “Shhhh. I’ve got you. He can’t hurt you now.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ELIJAH

“So, this is where you live,” Ava tries to say casually as she walks around my massive loft apartment as if she hadn’t spent most of the afternoon trembling in my arms while my people came in, led by Nicco, to clean up after the incident with her brother.

Julian had also stopped by briefly to offer his support and let me know that my penthouse apartment was fully stocked so we could hide out for a few days. We usually tried to avoid having Jules anywhere near the cleanup sites.

Cato and Rosie had even done their share, arriving shortly after everything had gone down, climbing under the duvet with her on the couch. Rosie had held her hand while Cato stroked her hair while the three of them talked in hushed whispers, mixed in with bouts of silent tears. I’d tried to get her to move away from her brother’s body, but she’d insisted on staying as all traces of him were erased.

I was relieved I hadn’t gotten around to removing the surveillance from across the street since it had saved her life. Andrew had been high and drunk. There was a very real chance he would have killed her, and I couldn’t live without her.

Ava lingers by the enormous windows where all the sunlight usually floods in, looking beautifully sad in the white summer dress I’d managed to convince her to wear earlier before everyone else could arrive and find her naked on the floor. I’d only grabbed it because it was easy to get over her head and required little input from her. Standing against the window, the city lights glimmer through the thin fabric, making her look almost untouchable.

Chuckling, I pull the cork out of the bottle of wine. “I own the entire building. Several buildings in fact. My security firm offices are downstairs but yes, this space here is mine.”

Handing her a glass of wine, I watch her expression carefully. A lot has happened lately, and she just watched her brother get shot. I know she’s not made of delicate glass, but she is precious and if she needs to break down, to do more than just cry, I need her to know I’ll be here to piece her back together. Always.

“Little Rabbit, how’re you holding up?” I tuck a strand of her chocolate-colored hair behind her ear as she nurses her glass, holding the rim against her bottom lip.

Frowning, she opens her mouth and then closes it again, as if she’s not sure how to answer. Saying nothing, she wanders over to my sofa and sinks into it, crossing her legs underneath her.

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