Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 462

As the shadowy figure moved closer, the motion-sensor light above Sylvia’s head suddenly blinked off.

“Ahh!” she shrieked, startled. Apparently, her scream scared the figure too—he nearly lost his footing and almost tumbled down the stairs.

Right then, the light flickered back to life.

Seeing each other’s faces, both froze, hands flying to clamp over their gaping mouths in mutual shock.

“Sylvia!”

“Ms. Ward! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Sylvia clutched her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

Ms. Ward leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “You and me both, honey! I thought I was just hearing my own footsteps echoing.”

Sylvia let out a shaky laugh and linked arms with her. They started up the stairs together, listening to Ms. Ward grumble about how the elevator had to break down now of all times—never early, never late, just perfectly inconvenient.

Lost in their animated chatter, neither noticed the faint movement of the door downstairs.

Inside, a man pretending to be a resident moved with practiced brutality. Even though Rupert stood before him, the man didn’t hold back—his punches landed heavy and precise.

Realizing he was outmatched, the man resorted to dirty tactics, pulling a knife for a sneak attack.

Rupert’s palm was slashed, but he barely flinched. Spinning around, he caught the man in a chokehold. In seconds, the man’s eyes rolled back and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Rupert looked down at him, blood dripping from his hand.

“Mr. Rupert,” Orson called as he hurried in with backup. He quickly offered a handkerchief.

Rupert took it and wiped the blood away, his voice flat and cold. “Just another mercenary with no loyalty except to a paycheck. Clean this up.”

“Yes, sir.” Orson signaled to the security team behind him.

Once the man was dragged away, Orson cast Rupert a worried look. “Sir, this is the fifth incident in just over two weeks. Twice this week alone. If this keeps up, he’s bound to get suspicious.”

Rupert’s gaze flashed dangerously cold. He considered for a moment, then tossed the bloodied handkerchief into the trash. “It’s almost Christmas. Maybe it’s time the Garcia family had a little excitement.”

Understanding dawned on Orson’s face. “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.”

Later, as Rupert entered the apartment, Reese immediately came out to greet him. Her smile vanished when she spotted the blood on his hand, replaced by a look of alarm.

“Mr. Rupert! Your hand—what happened? Weren’t you just picking up files from the office? How did you get hurt?”

She gently took his hand, concern shining in her eyes.

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