Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

"I know it's hard to believe me right now-and that's okay. We've got all the time in the world later."

"Sylvia, don't hate me. I never wanted to be this person, but I didn't get a choice."

Sylvia frowned, picking up on the hidden meaning in his words. "Who gave you a choice?"

Warren didn't answer. Instead, he stood up, crossed over to her, and swapped her untouched steak for the one he'd already sliced.

"Eat. Don't be stubborn. Uncle Rupert might let you have your tantrum, but not me. What I want, I get. And what I can't have... I'd rather destroy than let anyone else-especially Rupert-get it."

He smiled as he spoke, but there was nothing warm about it.

The way he cared for her was real, but so was his hatred for Rupert.

Sylvia glanced at his hand pressing down hard on her shoulder. "How am I supposed to eat like this? I'm not going anywhere, am I?"

Warren waved a hand at the bodyguard, who let her go.

He pushed the plate closer and gave her a warning look. "Sylvia, don't try anything. No one knows where you are not even Uncle Rupert. No one's coming to save you."

He ruffled her hair, not unkindly. "Be good. Just listen."

Sylvia glared at him, pure fury in her eyes. But in the end, she sighed, picked up her knife and fork, and started eating.

She had to eat.

Where else was she going to get the strength she needed?

Seeing her finally comply, Warren relaxed.

But just as everyone was letting their guard down, Sylvia twisted the knife in her hand and slashed Warren across the cheek, the blade pressing right to his throat.

She didn't hesitate-blood welled up where the knife cut.

Her voice was low and cold. "Listen, golden boy, I never said I was waiting for Uncle Rupert to save me. Tell your goons to back off!"

Warren raised a hand, signaling his bodyguard to stay put. He smirked. "Sylvia, did you forget? We're on a plane. There's nowhere to run."

"Even on a plane, you can't just fly anywhere. There's a flight plan-you have to talk to the tower. Isn't that right, Warren?"

Sylvia, tense and desperate, dragged Warren toward the cockpit, knife still at his throat.

But just as she reached the door, a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head. Her whole body went numb; the knife clattered to the floor.

She turned in time to see a woman-a golf club in her hands.

Fiona Carmen.

"You bitch! Haven't you messed things up enough for all of us?"

Sylvia crumpled, pain radiating through her skull, and Warren caught her before she hit the floor.

His eyes were cold, his smile even colder. "I warned you, Sylvia. There's no escape. Do you really think could just use a private jet to spirit you away, all by myself?"

"You"

Sylvia stared at him in disbelief as a certain name flashed through her mind.

Warren's voice dropped, sinister and low. "You figured it out. That night back in Mountain City-did you really

think Uncle Rupert would to ne

anything from strangers? He only trusts one person. Who else@ould help me come and go as Lplease?"

Who?

Tristan Garcia.

Sylvia's face drained of color. She pressed her hands to the throbbing pain at the

back of her head, unwilling to hear another word.

But Warren grabbed her arms, gripping tight. "The only thing Grandpa ever asked

of me was to get rid of you. Do you get it now?"

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to my head hurts..."

"He let your mom marry in, but do you really think he'd let his favorite son have anything to do with you? You think Rupert didn't know about all the times you were in danger?" Warren's voice grew harsher more twisted. noveldrama

"Stop it!"

"Rupert will never be with you. Not unless Rupert gives up everything the Garcias have. And Tristan would never let that happen."

Sylvia didn't hear the rest; pain shot through her head, everything went black, and she passed out cold.

She felt like something inside her brain was crawling, trying to claw its way out- leaking blood and darkness everywhere.