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.

in her arm. She opened her eyes to see a stranger injecting something into her vein, the clear medication sliding slowly through the

tried to pull away, but the man holding her just tightened his grip. "Let go! Don't touch me!" Sylvia's voice

his breath hot on her cheek. "It's me," came the

Rupert.

his touch, mumbling, "Don't... don't

brow furrowed. His

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leven lower.

drugged with something his

it, keep you

her fog. Images of Mark flashed before her eyes,

hold tightened, his voice steady and deep.

capped the syringe and packed up his

answer was ice-cold. "Destroy

and

Sylvia's veins, not relief-just a gnawing,

awful... Let

Just hold on." Rupert's

still raw from the ropes Mark had used, ached under his grip. She sucked in a sharp breath, pain

do you even want? There's nothing left for you to use

he loosened his grip