Page 122 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

He turned around, and I saw what he’d been arranging.

Pliers. A knife. A blowtorch.

My stomach twisted.

“Syx.” Amai looked at me. “Come here.”

I didn’t want to move.

But I did.

I crossed the room slowly, my legs feeling like they were made of lead, and stopped beside him.

“You’re going to watch,” Amai said. “And you’re going to learn.”

“Learn what?”

“How to get the truth.”

He picked up the pliers and walked toward Duke.

“Wait—wait—Amai, I swear—I don’t know anything else!”

“You know where Rahsaan keeps his secondary accounts.” Amai’s tone didn’t change. “You’ve been running money for him for six months. You know the routes. The contacts. The drop points.”

“I don’t⁠—”

Amai grabbed Duke’s hand and forced it flat against the armrest.

He screamed.

“Let’s start with your pinky,” Amai said. “And we’ll work our way up.”

The pliers closed around his fingernail.

“No—no—please!”

Amai pulled.

The sound.

I’ll never forget that sound.

Wet. Tearing. Duke’s scream rising to a pitch I didn’t know a human voice could reach.

Blood welled up from the nail bed, dripping onto the floor, pooling around the drain.

“Where are the accounts?” Amai asked.

“I don’t—I don’t know⁠—”

Amai moved to the next finger.

“Wait—wait—okay—okay⁠—”

“I’m listening.”

Duke was sobbing now, his whole body shaking. “There’s—there’s a bank in the Caymans—Grand Cayman—Rahsaan uses it for—for offshore transfers⁠—”