Page 200 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
I stared at the photo for three seconds. Her clothes intact. Some redness on her face. But those eyes glaring defiantly at the camera—she was alive.
Good news.
I breathed a little easier. Didn't reply. Pocketed the phone and headed east.
The third warehouse had a rusted metal door, half-open. I pushed through. Inside was dark—windows boarded up, only thin slits of light leaking through.
My eyes adjusted.
She sat in the chair, wrists bound, head against the backrest. She looked up at the sound. Saw me. The fear in her eyes transformed into something more complex.
"Ezio."
"Don't talk." I scanned the entire space.
Bianca emerged from the shadows. Dark coat, hair disheveled, but her expression radiant—triumphant, almost manically joyful.
"You came," she said softly. "You really came alone."
"Bianca."
"Do you know how long I've waited for this day? When you threw me out, did you ever think this moment would come?"
"No. Because you weren't worth thinking about."
Her smile froze briefly, then recovered.
"Tough talk," she said. "Doesn't matter. You standing here proves everything. For her, you'd sacrifice anything: your pride, your safety, your..." She paused, lips curling. "Your life."
I watched her. Said nothing.
"You know what? These five years, I kept wondering when you'd finally stumble. You're too strong, Ezio. Nobody can touch you. But you have one weakness. Always had just one."
She looked at Olivia.
"Her."
"So?" I asked. "You kidnapped her just to tell me that?"
"Of course not." She smiled, the expression garish in the dim light. "I want you to agree to my terms. The Colonna-Visconti marriage proceeds as planned. She leaves. Never comes back. Her son stays at the manor."
"Bianca, who's helping you?" I cut her off.
She stopped.
"What?"
"Planning a kidnapping, blocking signals, pulling my people away—you can't do that alone." My voice was quiet but clear. "What you can do is bribe a servant or two, gather some gossip, and plant a spy in the kitchen. But not this level of operation."
Her lips trembled.
I took another step forward.
"So I'm asking, who's helping you?"
"I didn't—"
A soft laugh echoed from deep in the warehouse.
