A Woman's Devotion (Phantom Of The Opera x Reader)

11. Escape

Y/n's POV:

Erik and I would have preferred to hop on a steamboat down the Mississippi River and leave this sweaty, mosquito-swarmed pit of hell. Unfortunately, we risked returning to our apartment. The Oklahoma jar would fund our travels, though we only collected enough wages to carry us to Arkansas. It made no difference now. As long as we escaped New Orleans, I'd gladly settle in Arkansas.

Erik and I raced down the street, headed towards our apartment in the questionable part of town. But, midway through our breakneck trot, I stopped dead in my tracks.

 "Y/n, what's wrong?"

Erik glanced around, surveying the crowded street for danger.

 "Gabriel. We've orphaned the boy, Erik."

In the midst of his panic, Erik looked genuinely regretful. But that only lasted a second. We had to push forward.

 "I'm sorry, but considering what Gabriel confided in me during our lessons, his relationship with his father was never perfect."

 Stunned, I said, "but, Erik, I'm sure he still loved his father."

Erik shrugged. Apparently, the truth was far more depressing, at least in his view.

 "The boy is heir to a successful business. That should take care of him well enough."

I sighed, though doubts nestled in the pit of my stomach.

 "Fine. But we need to hurry, Erik."

We picked up our pace once more and, in five minutes, arrived on the street of our apartment. We entered, breathless, and mounted the steps two at a time. At the sound of stern voices in heated debate, Erik shoved me into a hidden alcove in the hallway. He concealed himself as well after I was fully hidden from view.

I listened, scarcely moving, scarcely breathing, as the conversation drifted towards us.

 "They aren't here, and they certainly aren't hiding anywhere," an unfamiliar male voice said, "there's no point in continuously alarming other civilians anymore."

 "He's killed someone again. We have a lead, and we can't just retreat now."

This voice, again male, sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't identify it precisely.

At once, a single truth broke over me. This was certainly the sûreté we were aiming to evade. What were Erik and I going to do? I glanced to Erik for guidance, but his eyes were glued to the open door of the apartment. Apparently, the flimsy lock had been easy break.

 "We are not surrendering the case altogether. We can simply return to Monsieur Rousseau's home, and since our criminal might go there himself, we can await to ambush him there. I beg you not to catastrophize this, Monsieur de Chagny."

Those last three words, the single name, jolted shock through my body. Why was he here? I smothered a gasp in my hand, but Erik's warning look silenced me.

 "I'm not catastrophizing!" Raoul said, voice raised a notch in defensiveness. "But this man has killed again, Chief Mattis. We should treat that seriously."

 "And we are," someone, presumably Chief Mattis, said, "these things simply take time."

A new voice, surprisingly female, broke into the conversation.

 "Raoul, may we have a word... in private?"

Seconds of silence passed, as if in consideration. Finally, Raoul agreed. I listened, holding my breath, as two pairs of footsteps neared us. Erik pushed me farther into the shadowy recess of the alcove. Who was that woman? Only moments of contemplation unveiled the answer. Besides, as Jonvier had said, we were once close. That was undoubtedly Christine. But what was she doing here too? What on earth was going on? I looked at Erik, hoping his face would betray his feelings on the matter. To my dismay, he intentionally kept it stoic, void of any strong emotion, though I knew the ones in his mind were raging.