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“Frankie?” Rory said, his voice ice.
Frankie waited.
“Empty her crypto.”
“I don’t know her seed phrase,” he said pathetically.
Rory stood over her. “You memorize it? I bet you did.”
She had. But did she give it to him? When you’re trying to stay alive, to keep your daughter alive, to inhale one more time…you do. You do anything and say anything. She asked him for a pen and wrote down the twelve words, including the three that were a computer’s way of tormenting her.
Badminton
Stereo
Ghoul
Collective
Oxygen
Juveniles
Diploid
Marmoset
Supinate
Delusion
Pizza
Recur
She started to hand the paper to Rory, but he said to give it to Damon. Right away, he began typing the phrase into a laptop on the bar.
“Betsy,” said Marisa, and her tone was tentative. “There’s something I need to—”
“Shhhhhh. This will all be fine, sweetheart,” she said, cutting her off and hoping to reassure her. “Don’t be scared.”
“No. I—”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” said Rory.
Betsy saw the color was draining from the girl’s face. She began to suspect either that Marisa knew something she hadn’t shared or these men had done more to the child than anyone had let on.
Damon looked up at Betsy from the laptop. “It’s gone. Where did you move it?”
“I didn’t,” she told them. So, she thought, they’ve already taken it. Of course. Tony, she supposed. There really was no honor among thieves.
“Come here. We’re going to log into your bank account. You moved it there, right?”
She rose from the couch and joined him as he’d asked. She knew there were a lot of guns in the room.
“Which bank do you use? And is it in your savings account or checking account?”
She told Damon the bank, and he went to the website. “Log in,” he commanded.
