Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

A heavy, dark sky pressed down over the house, the salty sea wind lashing

against Sylvia with unrelenting force.

This weather, this scene-it was all too familiar. In her past life, Naomi had died right here.

A fatal car crash.

But who could've guessed that the real filth was hiding in a house not far from the wreck?

No one except Rupert, in another life.

Now, with storm clouds rolling in, the endless stretch of ocean looked like a gaping abyss, ready to swallow Sylvia whole.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, rain whipping sideways, wild and relentless-just like the storm inside her.

Her eyes burned with a sharp, stinging light, and by now, she couldn't tell if the wetness on her face was rain or tears.

She tried to steady herself, but her legs felt like they were made of lead.

The next second, Yves had his hand wrapped tight around her throat, slamming her to the ground.

"I'll kill you right now and toss you straight into the sea."

Sylvia's face flushed, her throat unable to make a sound.

ground, seizing a jagged stone. With all her strength, she smashed it

mixed with blood,

scrambling up and staggering away as fast as she

his wound as he chased her down. He grabbed her arm with such force she swore she heard something crack. Almost at the same moment, the roar of an engine cut through

black car tore through the curtain

shoved Sylvia into the nearest car and

raced down the coastal highway, weaving dangerously close

to fight back, but her hand was numb with

herself against the

chaos-wind and rain thrashing the glass like a thousand

sky, illuminating the driver of the other

breath

eyes met. Rupert glanced over, his stare cutting through

l.ne

lighting, she saw a hint of red at

cold indifference seemed even more chilling under

motioning for Sylvia

hesitated, then followed his gaze

by a construction barrier- and Rupert was on

wrestling the wheel to force Rupert's car

heart twisted as Rupert didn't slow down-instead, he

panic all tangled up

was blasting, but sweat trickled