Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)
Chapter 30

She just stood there, watching her bleeding, while Rupert pulled Bridget behind him.

Bridget chuckled from her safe spot.

Sylvia watched, her face turning ashen, managing only a bitter laugh.

Until the cops burst through the door.

"Who called 911?"

"I did." Rupert's voice was icy as he nodded towards Sylvia, "Take her away."

The officer, noticing Sylvia's wounds, exclaimed in shock, "That's a lot of blood. We need to bandage that up."

Rupert didn't even glance back, his voice grave, "I said take her. She needs to face the consequences of her own actions."

And just like that, Sylvia was cuffed.

The officer, concerned for her well-being, pressed a bandage against her wound to stop the bleeding. The pressure made Sylvia wince in pain. As she was led away, she paused, her voice light, "It wasn't me."

Rupert finally looked at her, just as Bridget fainted. He paid Sylvia no mind, carefully lifting Bridget into his arms.

Sylvia lifted her gaze to sweep the room, noting Rupert's presence in every corner of Bridget's apartment.

As she averted her gaze, their eyes met; Rupert's gaze were icy-cold, as if he was daring her to beg for mercy.

He always liked playing god, manipulating life and death. It was his way of telling her she was trapped, unless he willed otherwise.

The taste of blood filled Sylvia's mouth, but she forced it down and walked away without looking back.

Rupert's gaze paused, lingering on Sylvia's frail figure, hauntingly beautiful and seemingly about to vanish into thin air, beyond his reach.

The woman who used to smile while sneaking peaks at him seemed gone forever.

He glanced at Orson, who nodded silently before disappearing.

...

Sylvia was greeted again by the female officer who had comforted her before.

Seeing Sylvia's condition, the officer sighed, "We meet again, Ms. Lloyd. I've got a first aid kit in my car. Let's patch you up to prevent the wound from worsening."

Sylvia was moved by the kindness, her eyes lightened up.

"Thank you."

The officer was gentle, and soon Sylvia's wound stopped bleeding under her care. They then took her to the nearest hospital, where the doctor was visibly worried after the check-up. "That's a deep cut on your hand."

Sylvia zoned out for a moment, and then shivered uncontrollably, "I can't let anything happen to hand. I need it for the competition."

"Don't worry, we'll do our best," the doctor reassured her as he began treating her wound.

Relentless pain enveloped Sylvia, her lips nearly white from biting them, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind, ready to collapse.

The officer offered her arm sympathetically, "Hold on to me if it hurts."

Sylvia, drenched in sweat but determined, insisted, "It doesn't hurt."

She needed to remember this pain, a reminder never to let her guard down again. Through her agony, Sylvia recalled that man's gaze while he was looking at her, still vivid in her mind. His actions weren't aimed at Bridget, but at her!

The switchblade, seemingly aimed at Bridget, made no sense with Rupert and the physically imposing Orson there. Anyone would understand an attack with it was the least wise; it was destined to fail. But if that strike was merely a feint, everything made sense.

After her wound was treated, the doctor advised caution to avoid further damage. Sylvia glanced at her bandaged hand, relieved slightly.

It wasn't luck that saved her but her own alertness, moving just in time to avoid a worse injury. Otherwise as everyone was focusing on Bridget, how could she have time to react?

Once her wound was bandaged, Sylvia regained her composure and asked the officer, "Could you please inform my mom?"

"Of course," the officer nodded.