Page 69 of Carnival Master

Cade’s eyes lock onto Duke, and his body tenses like a coiled spring. Before I can react, he lunges forward with a snarl.

Lars catches him by the shoulder, yanking him back. “Cool it,” he growls in Cade’s ear. “This isn’t your show. Ty calls the shots here.”

“But that fucking rat—” Cade struggles against Lars’s grip.

“I said cool it.” Lars’s voice drops lower. “We follow the boss’s lead. That’s how this works.”

Cade’s jaw clenches, but he stops fighting. His chest heaves with controlled breaths as he steps back in line with the others. Nash and Colt flank him.

Gage leans against the doorframe, silent as always, while Remy unloads the planted bricks from a duffel bag. The evidence of Duke’s betrayal piles up on the concrete floor.

I meet each of their eyes, seeing anger and determination.They’re ready to follow my lead, to deal with this threat to our family. Even Cade has settled, though his fingers still twitch at his sides.

Duke hangs between us, his sobs the only sound breaking the tense silence. I grab him by the shirt, wrenching him forward until our faces are inches apart.

“You’re gonna tell me everything you told Jimmy.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Names, dates, locations. And then you’re gonna beg for mercy, so I let you die quick.”

His eyes dart wildly. “Just let me go. I didn’t tell him anything else, I swear?—”

“Cut the bullshit.” Lars shoves him. “We know you played us. Now it’s time to pay.”

The fear in Duke’s eyes shifts to resignation as he realizes his pleas won’t save him.

I stand in front of him, meeting his gaze with cold steadiness. “You wanted to run things, Duke? Be careful what you wish for.”

I signal my men to follow and move to the far end of the storage unit. Behind me, Duke’s whimpers grow more desperate. He knows what’s coming.

“Lars, Cade, secure him to that pillar.” I nod to the steel pillar at the unit’s center. “Remy, bring me the box of tools from my trunk.”

They spring into action while Duke thrashes against his bindings. I consider the impending violence and how a sculptor might select just the right tools for his masterpiece.

“Here, boss.” Remy holds out a metal toolbox.

I take it with a nod, careful not to break eye contactwith him. It is a silent reminder that our family is strong, and betrayals only strengthen us.

“Ty.” Duke’s voice quavers. “Don’t do this. Please.”

His legs squirm, trying to keep his feet on the ground, but Cade and Lars tighten their hold on the rope around his torso, lifting him up until he dangles a foot off the concrete.

“I don’t like getting my tools dirty,” I explain. “Now, let’s see what you gave Jimmy besides access to our operation.”

I pluck a pair of needle-nose pliers from the toolbox and maneuver them so Duke can see them gleaming in the fluorescent light.

Duke’s whimpers turn to screams as I wrench the first nail from his index finger. Blood wells up from the exposed nail bed, dripping onto the concrete floor.

Cade bounces on his heels, eyes bright with excitement. His grin stretches wide as Duke’s screams echo through the storage unit. The unhinged bastard always did enjoy violence.

Behind his skull mask, Gage remains motionless, watching with his usual eerie silence. His massive frame casts long shadows in the dim light.

Lars stands at my right shoulder, face impassive as I move to the next fingernail. He’s seen enough of my torture to stay cool, methodically noting Duke’s reactions for signs of breaking.

Phoenix keeps typing on his laptop, occasionally glancing at the traitor. We’ve done this dance before—he knows the routine.

“Please, stop—” Duke’s plea cuts off in another shriek as the second nail tears free.

“Ready to start talking?” I ask Duke, positioning the pliers around his third nail.

His head thrashes. “I’ll tell you everything! Just please—no more!”

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