Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 411

“You’d just love to run off with him, wouldn’t you? After all, your old flame is still waiting for you overseas.”

Rupert pulled out his phone and hit play. The voice recording echoed through the room—Bridget’s voice, unmistakably hers.

“Babe, I’m flying in for Christmas. Please, you have to pick me up at the airport. I can’t stand another minute with Caleb, he’s such an idiot!”

Bridget froze, her lips trembling. “Caleb, it’s not— I just—”

Caleb just smiled, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “It’s fine. I believe you.”

Bridget looked like she might actually faint with relief—until Chris stormed in.

“Caleb! Are you insane? She’s using you! She doesn’t love you—she’s only here because you’re my brother! That way, she can get updates on Mr. Rupert any time she wants!”

“I know,” Caleb laughed, a harsh, almost wild sound. “I know everything.”

Both Chris and Bridget stared at him, shocked into silence.

Caleb jabbed a finger at Chris, his voice bitter. “You’ve always been the golden boy, haven’t you? The perfect son. I was always wrong, no matter what I did. Mom and Dad brag about you, the whole family does. Even when the professors say I’m smarter, you’re still their proudest student!”

“Well, why should you have it all? I wanted to drag you down into the dirt for once. To make your precious friend wear my horns, to make him lose what he cares about. Hell, I even thought about making him raise my kid. I want you to feel guilty for the rest of your life!”

Chris took a shaky breath, his voice caught in his throat. He could barely get the words out as he backed away, shaking his head.

Caleb’s bravado faltered. “You… you’re not going to save me?”

Chris’s voice was bitter. “You always act like nothing can touch you. Maybe it’s time you learned to face the consequences yourself.”

Rupert didn’t wait for the drama to play out. He signaled to his men.

Caleb was a pro racer, and at first, he held his own. But after a few punches, he started to falter. He grabbed Bridget, hauling her onto his motorcycle, and tried to peel out with a screech of tires.

Rupert raised his hand, aimed, and with a muffled pop, a small puff of smoke came from his silencer.

The bike skidded, the metallic screech echoing.

Rupert strode over, pinning Caleb’s wounded arm to the ground with his boot, the barrel of his gun pressed to Caleb’s forehead.

“I let you say your piece to your brother. Now—last chance. You got anything else to say?”

Caleb coughed up blood, gritting his teeth. “Nothing left. Go ahead, kill me if you’ve got the guts.”

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