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.

no idea how much time had passed when she woke with a jolt of pain in her arm. She opened her eyes to see a stranger injecting something into her vein,

tightened his grip. "Let go! Don't touch me!" Sylvia's voice was

held her closer, his breath hot

Rupert.

hesitated, still shying away from his touch,

brow furrowed. His

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leven lower.

drugged with something his

it, keep you from

Mark flashed before her eyes,

it-his hold tightened, his voice steady and

packed up his kit. "Mr.

answer was ice-cold.

nodded and

medication felt like fire in Sylvia's veins,

awful... Let

need to ride it out. Just

from the ropes Mark had used, ached under his grip. She sucked

me alone! What do you even want? There's nothing left for

Rupert's tone was cold as stone, but he loosened his grip when