Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

On the other side of the office, Chris was carefully tending to Rupert's wounds, dabbing at the cut just above his eyebrow.

"It's nothing serious," Rupert muttered, brushing him off.

Rupert gave a low grunt and fished a cigarette from his pocket. With a flick of his lighter, he took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl up between them and thicken the room's already heavy air.

After a moment of tense silence, Chris let out a bitter laugh. “You knew Caleb was going to go after Bridget, didn't you?"

Rupert only nodded, the answer hanging in the mist of cigarette smoke.

Chris sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, man. I don't even have the nerve to

beg you for forgiveness anymore. I talked to my mom, too. She just feels awful— says she should've kept a better eye on Caleb."

Rupert tapped his ash into the empty mug on his desk. "Save it. Once Caleb's back, then you can apologize all you want."

Chris hesitated, recognizing the implication: Rupert still expected Caleb to return in one piece. He decided not to push further.

Still, something bothered him. "But, dude, your wedding was tighter than a Fort Knox vault. Security everywhere. How the hell did Caleb just ride in on his Harley and crash the ceremony? You let it happen, didn't you?"

Rupert finally looked up, his eyes dark and unreadable. That was all the answer Chris needed.

"What, you figured there's no better evidence than the bride eloping in front of everyone?"

"You're cold, man. Ruthless-even when it comes to yourself." Chris gave a low whistle, half in admiration, half disbelief. After a minute, he frowned. "But if you still want them both back, why let them run in the first place?"

smoke, his gaze narrowing. "Remember that night at O'Malley's

it? I thought everything was covered?" Chris raised an eyebrow, a little defensive-the bar was his and Caleb's joint venture, though he barely showed up anymore. The office in the

She was waiting for me—had to be. Someone tipped her off. There's no

there was someone else, besides us,

got nowhere else left to turn. She'll

idea who it

admit it

answer, just kept smoking, his thoughts swirling as dark as the

Chris changed the subject. "So, how'd you know Freya's

you a little girl in my dreams clued me in, would you

silent. He'd dreamed about

Before either cou

could say

door burst

one look

and all,

over.ne

smoking-and snatched the

his fingers,

a

not puffing away like

if the cigarette was still there. He gave Sylvia a look, the last wisp of smoke hiding the flash in

"Concussion? When did-"