Page 106 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 4

“Boss.” It was William, head of Truth’s security detail. His voice had that tight, careful quality men used when they knew they were about to deliver bad news.

“Talk to me.”

“We arrived at the property at 19:37 as ordered. Your gate security informed us that the pickup had already been completed.”

My foot eased off the accelerator. “What pickup?”

“They said Mr. Kaisen Landry arrived approximately forty minutes prior and transported Ms. Renois and the baby to the secure location per your instructions⁠—”

I swerved onto the shoulder so hard the tires screamed. Priest braced against the dashboard as I slammed the brakes, gravel spraying up against the undercarriage like buckshots.

“What the fuck do you mean Kaisen picked up my family already?”

“Sir, your gate team said⁠—”

I ended the call and threw the Bentley into a U-turn across the grass median, engine roaring as I accelerated back toward the city. My hands were shaking on the wheel. My vision had gone narrow and sharp, the way it did right before I killed someone.

“Amai.” Priest’s voice cut through the noise in my head. “Amai, slow down.”

“He took them.” My voice didn’t sound like mine. “He fucking took them.”

“I know. But you’re doing ninety in a forty-five, and we just passed two NOPD units⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck about⁠—”

“That’s why tonight felt wrong.” Priest twisted in his seat to face me, his expression grim. “Those men we caught at Chef Menteur and Broad Street—they weren’t Rahsaan’s people. They were nobodies. No ties, no history, no reason to hit us except someone paid them to.”

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity.

The coordinated timing. The amateur execution. The way both crews had gone down without real resistance, like they’d been hired to make noise, not to win.

“It was a setup,” I said.

“It was a setup,” Priest confirmed. “Kaisen manufactured the threat to pull you out of position. He knew you’d respond. He knew you’d leave Truth with minimal security because you thought you were handling the real problem.”

I pressed the accelerator harder. The speedometer climbed past ninety-five.

“Amai, you need to let me drive.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re about to wrap us around a telephone pole doing a hundred miles an hour in the dark.” Priest’s hand moved to the wheel. “Pull over. Right now.”

“Get your fucking hand off⁠—”

“I’m not letting you kill us both because you’re too shaken to see straight!” Priest’s voice cracked like a whip. “Pull the fuck over, Amai. That’s an order from your brother, not your soldier.”

I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the fear beneath the command. Not fear of me. Fear for me.

I eased off the gas and guided the Bentley onto the shoulder.

We switched seats without speaking. Priest adjusted the mirrors, checked the blind spots, and merged back onto the highway with the kind of deliberate control I couldn’t access in that moment.

“He’s had them for over an hour,” I said quietly.

“I know.”

“Anything could’ve happened in an hour.”