That wasn’t it at all. His response had nothing to do with Jayla. The truth was, he didn’t agree with the secretive nature of this operation. If he had his way, he’d be glued to Chloe Powell at the hip, a guard dog keeping her safe twenty-four-seven. Needing to keep their distance left too many opportunities, cracks that Jackson Savoy could potentially slip through. It also reeked of a trap where Chloe was the bait, and he didn’t like the idea of that one bit.
He’d pointed all this out to the general, voicing his misgivings, but he hadn’t been able to dispute General Davies’ logic.“That girl was traumatized, scared for her life. For months after, she barely left her apartment. We’re not going to throw her straight back into that trauma. Not when we don’t know where that bastard is. Not when she’s finally taking her life back.”
Erik knew what it was like to live in a self-created prison. He’d done it for years. Avoiding others, avoiding their stares, their discomfort, their pity… He’d shut himself in his apartment at Black Bay with his art and his music, but he hadn’t been living. He’d just been surviving, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone, much less Chloe, whose voice was a gift the world should enjoy. So he’d do things the general’s way, and if Jackson Savoy was stupid enough to show his face, Erik would eliminate the threat once and for all so that Chloe Powell could fully claim the life she deserved without fear.
The last camera installed, Erik checked in with Jayla on comms. “You got eyes?”
“Costume department online.”
Taking one last look around, his attention was snagged by one of the Phantom’s masks, and his feet were moving before his brain even registered the activity. Picking it up, he couldn’t help but place it over his face and look into one of the many large mirrors. The molded, white, leather-lined piece nearly completely covered his scars, allowing him to look past them for once and see how he might look after the procedure.
With a click, the overhead lights he hadn’t bothered to turn on suddenly lit the space, and Erik guiltily swung around, lowering the mask. The man in the doorway took one look at his face, let out a little screech, and, wide-eyed with fear, raised his hands above his head in surrender. “Take anything you want!” His head suddenlydropped, so he was staring at his shoes. “I didn’t see a thing. I swear. Don’t hurt me.”
Erik’s lip lifted in a snarl he couldn’t hold back, and the trembling man let out a whimper as Erik strode toward him. “I’m not a thief. I work here.” Leaving the room, he couldn’t resist shoulder-checking the guy for the insult on his way out.
Jayla, who had heard everything thanks to the newly installed surveillance equipment, offered, “Want me to come down there and teach that little shit a lesson in manners?”
“Naw. I got it. But thanks.” He was used to reactions like that from strangers, though it had been quite some time since he’d experienced that level of fear coming off of someone. The way the guy had reacted, anyone would think Erik had been pointing a gun at him. But the true sting came later, as other workers and performers began trickling in, and rumors started reaching his ears about the monstrous-looking man Lattimer Wilkes had hired.
After a night plagued by nightmares, Chloe was bleary-eyed as she entered the opera house through the stage door, the strong, black coffee she was drinking doing little to perk her up. Unlike yesterday, today was a bustle of activity, with stagehands working behind the scenes as dancers rehearsed on the stage, the choreographer front and center, yelling out both corrections and praise.
“Chloe!”
She jumped and let out a small gasp of surprise when someone suddenly grabbed her arm.
John Madison, their Phantom, didn’t comment on her jumpiness – if he even noticed – he was practically vibrating with indignity as he asked, “Have you seen him yet?”
“Seen who?”
“The guy Lattie just hired. I haven’t seen him myself, but they’re saying he’s grossly disfigured. A real-life Phantom.”
Chloe’s hackles rose at the description of Erik, but again, John didn’t notice, barreling forward with his tirade. “Do you think Lattie is replacing me? I mean, I’m all for realism, but I’m not going to burn half my face off for this role. Can the guy even sing?” Stomping his foot like a petulant toddler, he added, “This is so unfair!”
In his early forties, John was a handsome man. Tall and athletic, he had thick, dark hair and strong bone structure that gave him a striking appearance. That, combined with his gorgeous baritone, meant he never lacked for roles, but while he came off as extremely vain, he had an incredibly fragile ego. He was also adamant that everyone was either trying to steal his spotlight or undermine him in some way.
“First,” Chloe cut in sharply. “His name is Erik…”
“He evenhas the right name?!”
“And he’s notgrossly disfigured,” she continued, ignoring John’s outburst. “He’s an amazing artist whom Lattie hired to work on sets. You’re not being replaced, John, so take a breath.”
“Okay, okay.” John nodded and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose before expelling it slowly from his mouth. “Of course, I’m not being replaced. No onecouldreplace me.” When he looked at her again, he was calmer, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “So, you’ve met him? How ugly is he?”
She shot him a look that clearly showed she wasn’t impressed with that callous question. Nor was she inclined to satisfy his morbid curiosity. Brushing past him, she said, “I need to warm up.”
But John wasn’t the only one talking about Erik. All day, she heard the whispers – some, not even bothering to keep their voices down as they gossiped about the latest addition to the opera house crew. They speculated over his scars and his background with varying degrees of horror and even fear.
It seemed like the only ones not talking about Erik were she, Lattie, and Danny. The latter was likely only because he was dealing with his own drama and had already left. As soon as he’d arrived, looking haggard and frantic, he’d disclosed that the garage where he’d taken his car had informed him that his brake lines had been tampered with. He’d been horrified, and rightfully so. He’d contacted the police, but there was little they could do about it, considering Danny had no clue who might have done it. Hedidn’t have enemies that he knew of, and he lived in a decent neighborhood that was relatively crime-free. The best they could advise was to install security cameras, which, according to him, was scheduled to happen as soon as he got back home. He only bothered to come in today at all because he wanted to explain things to Lattie in person.
Chloe was already short-tempered thanks to her lack of sleep, but she completely lost her shit when she heard one of the dancers remark about Erik, “What if he’s some sort of serial killer? I heard he threatened poor Tom in the wardrobe department. What was Lattie thinking, hiring someone like him?”
They were in the middle of blocking out a scene when Chloe heard that, and she turned on the dancer in question, her eyes blazing and her face hot with anger. “Get out!” Snapping her arm up, she pointed off the stage. “Leave! And don’t come back until you’ve learned some respect.”
Everyone was staring at her, wide-eyed with surprise over her outburst. Including Lattie, who delicately cleared his throat. “Chloe, might I have a word?Alone.”
Chloe nodded, following Lattie off stage. She was still the center of attention, everyone whispering about her, but she kept her shoulders squared and her head high.
“Now who needs to take a breath?” she heard John comment snidely, snickering at his own joke. She stiffened slightly, but let the remark pass.
