Page 121 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

And then he turned and walked toward the door.

“Wait—where are you going—Amai!”

The door closed.

The lock engaged.

And I was alone.

The room was silent except for my breathing.

Fast. Shallow. Panicked.

I pulled against the restraints, but they didn’t budge.

My wrists burned where the leather dug into my skin.

My chest felt tight, compressed by the strap holding me in place.

I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t run.

Couldn’t do anything but sit here and wait.

And remember.

The man’s name was Duke.

I didn’t know his last name. Didn’t know where Amai had found him or what he’d done to end up here.

All I knew was that he’d fucked up.

Bad.

I’d been seventeen—still new to the family business, still learning how things worked.

Amai had told me to come to the Sanctum. Said I needed to see something.

I thought it was going to be a lecture. Maybe some kind of test.

I didn’t expect this.

Duke was already in the chair when I arrived, his wrists and ankles strapped down, his face pale and slick with sweat.

He looked at me when I walked in—desperate, pleading—but I didn’t know what to say.

Amai stood beside the table, his back to us, arranging something I couldn’t see.

“Close the door,” he said without turning around.

I did.

The lock clicked into place, and Duke flinched.

“Amai, man—please—I told you everything I know.”

“No.” Amai’s voice was calm. Almost gentle. “You told me what you thought I wanted to hear. That’s not the same thing.”