Chapter 95 - The Hostage in the Conservatory
Olivia’s head throbbed with a vicious, pulsating agony.
The lingering effects of the midazolam made the room tilt and sway, but the sheer, primal terror of a mother kept her conscious, clawing through the chemical fog.
*Where is Grace?*
That was the only thought screaming through her mind. Not the ropes cutting into her wrists. Not the freezing cold air sweeping through the conservatory’s broken terrace windows. Not the blood dripping from her lip where Thorne had struck her when she tried to bite his fingers off in the ambulance.
Only Grace.
She raised her head, glaring with pure, unadulterated venom at Thomas Sterling.
Thomas was dressed in a tailored Tom Ford suit, but the illusion of sophistication was completely shattered. His tie was undone, his collar stained with sweat, his eyes bulging with the frenzied, erratic energy of a man who knew his empire was slipping through his fingers.
"Stop looking at me like that, Olivia!" Thomas snapped, suddenly halting his pacing and pointing his gold pistol directly between her eyes.
"You brought this on yourself! If you had just stayed the obedient little corporate bride... if you had let your mother marry you off to someone who knew how to obey the Council... we wouldn't be standing here!"
Olivia didn't flinch. She stared straight down the barrel of the gun, her dark eyes burning with such ferocious hatred that Thomas actually took an involuntary step backward.
He laughed nervously, running a trembling hand through his disheveled blond hair.
"You think Ethan is coming to save you?" Thomas sneered, taking a heavy swig from his crystal tumbler. "Ethan is a dead man. Even if he survived Queens, he’s currently chasing Thorne’s decoy into a swamp in New Jersey."
Thomas leaned down until his breath, reeking of expensive bourbon and sour panic, washed over her face.
"And your precious little girl?" Thomas whispered, a cruel, mocking smile stretching across his lips. "She’s already halfway to a private clinic in South America. You'll never see her again, sister-in-law. Not unless Ethan delivers every last cent of the Zurich trust into my accounts."
Olivia lunged forward against the ropes with such sudden, violent force that the heavy antique chair rocked on its legs.
A muffled, guttural scream of absolute fury ripped through the tactical tape over her mouth.
She didn't care about the bonds cutting into her skin until blood ran down her forearms. She wanted to tear his throat out with her bare teeth.
"Save your energy," Thomas chuckled coldly, straightening his jacket. "It’s 11:52 PM. In eight minutes, the transfer window closes. If Ethan hasn't transmitted the biometric keys by midnight, I pull this trigger, and I leave your corpse here for the rats."
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany double doors of the conservatory rattled.
A panicked operative, wearing Thomas’s private security insignia, burst into the room, his uniform disheveled and covered in mud.
"Mr. Sterling!" the guard gasped, clutching a wound in his side. "The perimeter sensors... they’re going dark! All of them!"
Thomas whirled around, his face draining of color. "What do you mean, going dark?! Is it Ethan?!"
"No, sir!" the guard stammered. "It’s... it’s not Ethan! It’s heavy assault gear! Black uniforms, no insignia! They’re using thermal cloaking and suppressed carbines! They just executed the entire gate garrison in less than ninety seconds!"
"Impossible!" Thomas shrieked, knocking a multi-thousand-dollar marble bust off its pedestal, sending it crashing into pieces across the floor. "The Council promised me extraction! They promised me immunity once the liquidation script cleared!"
"They lied to you, Thomas," a voice echoed through the high rafters of the conservatory.
The voice was low, resonant, and dripping with lethal authority.
Thomas froze. The guards in the room whipped their assault rifles upward toward the glass ceiling.
"Who’s there?!" Thomas screamed, his voice cracking into high-pitched hysteria. "Show yourself!"
CRACK!
The massive central skylight exploded in a torrential cascade of reinforced glass, steel frame splinters, and blinding white lightning.
Two flashbang grenades detonated simultaneously in mid-air, unleashing an ear-splitting 170-decibel boom and a blinding million-candlepower flash that instantly blinded Thomas and his guards.
Screams of agony filled the conservatory as men dropped their weapons, clutching their ears and eyes.
Through the shower of falling glass, a dark figure descended on a tactical fast-rope like an angel of death.
Ethan hit the marble floor in a low crouch, rolling smoothly to absorb the momentum.
Before the guards could recover their senses, his suppressed rifle barked three times with terrifying, rhythmic precision.
*Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.*
Three of Thomas’s bodyguards dropped instantly, neutralised before they could clear their holsters.
Marcus hit the floor a second later, sweeping the perimeter with lethal efficiency, pinning the remaining guards behind the stone columns.
Ethan rose to his full height, stepping over the shattered glass.
His eyes locked onto Olivia.
In that single, fraction of a second, the cold, merciless mask of the sovereign warlord cracked, revealing the raw, bleeding soul of a husband.
"Ethan..." Olivia choked out against the tape, fresh tears cutting tracks through the grime on her cheeks.
Ethan was beside her in two strides.
With a single flick of his combat knife, he severed the heavy zip-ties binding her wrists and ankles.
He ripped the tape from her lips with gentle precision.
The moment her hands were free, Olivia threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his Kevlar vest, sobbing with an intensity that rattled her entire frame.
"Grace..." she gasped, her voice broken, clutching his jacket like a drowning woman. "Ethan... he took Grace... he took our baby..."
Ethan wrapped one massive arm around her, holding her so tightly he could feel her heart slamming against his chest.
"She’s safe, Livvy," Ethan whispered fiercely into her hair. "I got her. Grace is safe. She’s with Sarah. Nobody touches our daughter ever again."
Olivia collapsed against him for half a second, releasing a long, shuddering breath of pure, agonizing relief.
"Ethan!" a voice shrieked from across the conservatory.
Ethan turned slowly.
Thomas was cowering behind a massive marble statue of Minerva, his gold pistol trembling violently in both hands, aimed directly at Ethan’s chest.
"Don't move!" Thomas screamed, his eyes rolling back in terror and madness. "Don't move or I swear to God I'll kill you both!"
Ethan gently pushed Olivia behind his armored frame, stepping forward into the open marble floor.
"Put the gun down, Thomas," Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You're out of moves."
"I have the assets!" Thomas yelled, clutching his glowing biometric drive like a holy relic. "I have seventy percent of the Sterling empire! I am the Sovereign now! You have to obey me!"
"Look outside the windows, Thomas," Ethan said, pointing toward the dark terrace.
Through the mist, red laser sights began painting the marble pillars of the conservatory.
May you like
Dozens of them.
"Victoria’s executioners are already here," Ethan said softly. "And unlike me, brother... they don't take prisoners."
