Page 202 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
His lips trembled.
"You—" His voice dropped. "You knew all along?"
"I knew you were making moves in Europe," I said. "But I didn't know when you'd strike. You hid well, Sebastian. Not impulsive like Bianca. You stayed in France for ten years. Waited ten years. For one opportunity."
"And her—" I glanced at Olivia. "She was the piece you prepared. You got close to her because she's my weakness. You waited by my side for five years. Waited for me to find her, bring her back—then you could use her against me."
Olivia's breathing quickened. I heard her shift in the chair, ropes scraping.
I forced myself not to look at her. Kept my eyes locked on Sebastian.
"Am I wrong?"
His face was paper-white.
Then he laughed.
Different from before. His eyes crinkled with it. Unhinged.
"Ezio, you're one step ahead again." He laughed louder. "But it's not over! I haven't lost yet!"
He spun around, grabbed Olivia's hair, and yanked her from the chair. She cried out sharply. Ropes still bound her wrists. She stumbled as he dragged her forward.
A knife pressed against her throat.
Thin blade. Glinted once in the dim light. Olivia's breathing quickened. She looked at me, eyes wide.
Fear.
I saw it in her eyes.
"Don't move." Sebastian's eyes were bloodshot, expression manic.
I stopped.
"One more step and I'll slit her throat."
"Sebastian, you don't want to know the consequences." My voice was calm, but only I knew my palms were slick with cold sweat.
"Don't use that tone with me," he cut me off. "Don't order me, don't lecture me, don't look at me like I'm some failure. Ezio, all our live,s you've been better than me. More favored by Uncle. I always lost to you. But today—"
His fingers tightened. The blade pressed closer to Olivia's skin. She bit her lip. Didn't make a sound.
"I'm going to win."
"Sebastian, I can give you anything you want. Just let her go."
"Let her go?" He laughed, the sound garish in the dim light. "Then what? You let me walk away? Like you did with Bianca? No, Ezio. I'm not Bianca. I won't crawl out of here."
His arm locked around Olivia's neck, knife at her throat. Bloodshot eyes held that look—the kind that comes when someone's backed into a corner and stops caring about anything.
"I want you to kneel."
I didn't move.
"Kneel!" His voice sharpened. The blade pressed closer. A thin line of blood appeared on Olivia's neck. Bright red against her pale skin.
I stared at that bloodline. My fists clenched.
