Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chris rubbed his temples. Seriously, Orson and Rupert had been around each other way too long-saying even one extra word seemed physically painful for them.

He tried to explain, "He just wants you to do what makes you happy, Sylvia. It's not like he's trying to control you or anything."

Sylvia arched an eyebrow, a smile curling at the corner of her lips, half amused, half not. “Well, first off, tell him thanks. Second, maybe let him know I'd appreciate it if he stopped sending people to spy on me."

She hadn't told anyone about the training program, so if Rupert knew, it meant he had someone watching her. That much was obvious.

Chris started to blurt out, "But that's only because="

Orson reached out and stopped him, cutting him off. "Ms. Lloyd, I'll pass along the message. But I doubt that's the only reason you wanted to talk tonight, is it?"

Sylvia's throat felt tight. She took a sip of her coffee, stalling for a second.

"Orson, you know us better than anyone. You've watched this whole mess unfold from the start. You know how it ends, maybe better than we do."

"So whether you're his assistant or just his friend, please-talk some sense into him. Tell him to stop before he goes too far."

The table fell silent. The hum of the restaurant faded into the background.

Orson set down his mug, his expression serious. "Ms. Lloyd, I'm afraid I can't do that."

Sylvia stared, stunned. She couldn't understand this was the right thing for everyone, wasn't it? Why not just agree?

"Is this really a matter of right and wrong?" Orson asked quietly. "If it were that simple, don't you think he'd realize it? With the power he has, if he truly wanted to be free of you, don't you think he'd have done it already?"

unfocused. It was like the world paused for a second, her mind

raised his hand and snapped his fingers twice.

the others

of the men glanced at Sylvia,

Mr. Rupert myself,"

"Understood."

men headed out, rounding up the rest of

of them-she saw him jogging past her apartment every morning and every

the same route

the studio. Content

to s

it, Orson nodded toward the door.

outside for

grabbed her purse and

it had when she'd arrived, except dusk

and there were more

kids eating ice cream cones.

the sight of the busy street eased her nerves

out her phone, meaning to text Chris and Orson

when suddenly someone shoved her hard

the road-didn't slow down, in fact,