Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 527

He pressed a hand to his chest, grimacing. “I get the feeling Ms. Winslet’s got it out for Sylvia and her mom. You should probably keep your guard up.”

It was the kind of comment that sounded like it said a lot, but actually said nothing.

This, at least, wasn’t breaking his promise to Sylvia.

“Yeah.”

Rupert lowered his gaze, staring at his cigarette with something left unsaid.

Chris caught on immediately, grinning as he stepped closer. “You sure you don’t wanna get checked out at the ER?”

“Nope.”

Chris snorted. “Serves you right, honestly.”

He slung his med kit over his shoulder and strode out.

As the last ember of his cigarette dimmed, the room slipped into silence, and Rupert was left alone with his thoughts.

A few minutes later, Reese knocked gently and entered, carrying a fresh mug of tea.

“Dr. Chris already left?”

Rupert stubbed out his smoke and took the tea from her. “Yeah.”

Reese’s eyes flicked over his back, and her heart squeezed. She fidgeted with her fingers, trying to steady herself.

“Mr. Rupert, why’d you take those nine lashes for Sylvia?”

“She’s Edwin’s stepdaughter.” Rupert’s face was blank, as if taking a beating was just another Tuesday.

“Oh, I see.”

Reese smiled, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

She glanced at the clock. “Since we missed dinner at the Bluebird Bistro, I had the staff whip up something simple. Come eat with me?”

“Sure.”

Reese reached out, ready to help him up.

He slipped on his jacket, dodging her hand with casual ease.

She bit her lip, but still followed him down the stairs.

At the dining table, the staff brought out the last dish.

Reese eyed it with curiosity. “Is that…chicken pot pie?”

“The kitchen said Mr. Rupert stocked up on them and never touched them, so they figured tonight was the night,” one of the staff explained, dishing out generous portions of the pie.

Reese accepted the serving spoon. “I’ve got it, thanks. You all can take a break.”

Hospital.

Rupert stopped outside the door to the hospital room, hand raised to knock, then hesitated and let it fall.

He glanced coolly at Orson. “I’m not going in.”

Orson, holding a Tupperware container, looked exasperated. “Mr. Rupert, you’re already here. Might as well go in, right?”

“Nope. Not in the mood to get yelled at.”

Rupert’s eyes darkened. He turned to leave, but before he could, the sound of something breaking came from inside the room.

By the time Orson looked up, Rupert had already disappeared down the hallway.

Inside the room—

Sylvia had tried to pour herself a glass of water, but twisted too quickly, pulling at the bandages on her back.

The glass slipped and shattered on the floor.

She bent down to clean up the shards, but before she could, a pair of strong hands closed gently but firmly over hers.

A man’s breath was hot against her ear, voice tight with worry. “Do you want to shred your hand too?”