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.

passed when she woke with a jolt of pain in her arm. She opened her eyes to

the man holding her just tightened his grip. "Let go! Don't touch me!" Sylvia's voice was barely more than

his breath hot on her cheek. "It's

Rupert.

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

furrowed.

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leven lower.

drugged with something his

keep you from getting

cut through her fog. Images of Mark flashed

his

stranger capped the syringe and packed up

was ice-cold. "Destroy

nodded and vanished out

felt like fire in Sylvia's veins, not relief-just a gnawing,

feel awful...

to ride it out. Just hold

grip. She sucked in a sharp breath, pain

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

but he loosened his grip when