Page 147 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“Wait—” I started, but he wasn’t listening.

“Water, food, gauze, Tylenol,” he said, his voice distant, distracted. “There’s enough for a few days. Maybe longer if you ration it.”

“Amai—”

“I’ll be back.” He grabbed the edge of the lid. “Or I won’t. Depends on whether I can fix this.”

“Fix what?” I demanded, but I already knew.

Truth was leaving him.

Truth was taking back her agency, her choice, her control.

And Amai was losing his mind.

“She can’t leave,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “She can’t—I need to?—”

He started pulling the lid closed.

Darkness began to creep back in, swallowing the light inch by inch.

“AMAI!” I screamed, panic clawing at my throat. “DON’T?—”

But he wasn’t listening.

The lid scraped across the concrete, the sound deafening in the confined space.

The light narrowed to a sliver.

The lid slammed shut.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

But this time, I wasn’t alone in it.

This time, I had hope.

Winston was coming.

And when he arrived, when he pulled me out of this concrete tomb, Amai was going to learn what it meant to truly go to war with a Landry.

Because I wasn’t the fuckup anymore.

I wasn’t the disappointment.

I was the man who survived being buried alive.

And I was coming for everything Amai thought was his.

Chapter 13

WINSTON

My phone buzzed on the mahogany desk in front of me.

I didn’t look at it immediately. I was in the middle of reviewing quarterly reports from three of our legitimate businesses—the ones that kept the IRS satisfied and the money clean. Numbers had always been my language. Cold. Precise. Unemotional.

The phone buzzed again.