Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Through the thick fabric of her jacket, Sylvia could hear the sickening thuds of fists meeting flesh, the ugly crunch of twisting bone.

With a metallic clang, a scalpel hit the ground.

Mark didn't even have time to scream-he just crumpled.

Suddenly, the ropes binding Sylvia's arms and legs were gone. Weak and barely conscious, she felt herself swept up into someone's arms.

As she was turned, her jacket slipped from her face. She looked up, dazed, and saw her rescuer.

Rupert.

He looked exactly like the shadowy figure from her memories: pale, cold, his eyes blazing with a lethal intensity.

Sylvia's hand came up, trembling, and brushed his cheek. She murmured, almost deliriously, "You came to save me..."

She didn't finish. Her hand dropped, and she slid into darkness.

Rupert's heart tightened at the sight. He turned, his stare colder than a winter storm, fixing Mark's body on the ground.

"Orson."

"Yes, sir." Orson, shaken by Rupert's presence, hesitated for a split second before stepping forward, grabbing Mark's already mangled arm, and slamming him onto the table.

woke with a jolt of pain in her arm. She

but the man holding her just tightened his grip. "Let go! Don't touch me!" Sylvia's

her closer, his breath hot

Rupert.

hesitated, still shying away from his touch, mumbling, "Don't... don't touch

brow furrowed.

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leven lower. "You

drugged with something his

it, keep

Mark flashed before her eyes,

hold tightened, his voice steady and deep. "You're

and packed up his

was

nodded and vanished out the

in Sylvia's veins, not relief-just a

awful... Let

it out. Just hold on." Rupert's grip

had used, ached under his grip. She sucked in a sharp breath, pain

you even want? There's nothing left

cold as stone, but he loosened his grip when he