Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 611

They really were in this together.

If she actually ended up killed in that crash, at most it would be ruled an accident.

Maybe the guy behind the wheel would even get off easier, since technically, she’d darted into traffic where she shouldn’t have been.

She’d die, and no one would ever know the truth.

As these thoughts spun in her head, the sound of two men hitting the ground and begging for mercy echoed from the alley.

It was over. Sylvia rushed toward the dark passage—she had to see who wanted her dead.

But just as she reached the mouth of the alley, Chris and Orson showed up with backup.

Rupert didn’t even give Sylvia a chance to speak. He stared down at the men sprawled on the ground. “Take care of it.”

Orson instantly motioned for his guys to gag the two men and drag them away.

Seeing this, Sylvia finally understood Rupert’s intentions—even she couldn’t miss it now.

“Why gag them? What, there’s something I’m not allowed to know? They tried to kill me! Why am I the only one left in the dark?”

“You don’t need to know.” Rupert’s voice was cool, almost distant, as he stood half-hidden in the shadows.

Sylvia froze for a second, but she already knew the answer.

“Kay? Was it her? Why are you covering for her? Who gave you the right to decide for me?”

She glared at Rupert, bristling like a cornered animal, and spun around, ready to chase after the men being dragged away.

But she barely got two steps before Rupert caught up and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Let me go! This has nothing to do with you!”

Sylvia struggled, twisting her wrists, but Rupert just pinned her arms with one hand, pressing them tightly against her chest so she couldn’t move.

“What good would it do you to destroy her?” he said, voice low but firm. “Don’t forget, you’re about to start your fellowship. Are you just going to throw away your dream? And… how are you going to explain all this to Lester?”

As he finished, Rupert dropped something onto her chest.

Sylvia glanced down—it was the scarf he’d just taken from her neck.

Untouched, still perfectly fine.

He hadn’t used it at all.

Her gaze drifted to Rupert’s hand, which was still clamped around her wrists.

Sylvia looked up at Rupert, unconscious on the couch.

His shirt was open, revealing a strong chest that seemed almost ghostly pale. The black back brace around his waist looked harsh and out of place.

Red marks dug deep into his skin where the brace had pressed too tightly, as if someone had tried to tear him apart.

She had no idea his injuries hadn’t healed.

“People who only care about money don’t think about anything else,” Chris said with a sigh.

Sylvia went rigid.

Yeah, people who’d make a move in broad daylight didn’t care about consequences—they were desperate.

Rupert must’ve known that.

So why had he run into that alley for her?

Sylvia lowered her head, her back trembling, trying to steady her breathing—as if one wrong move might shatter the man lying on the bed like fragile glass.