Sorry about the delay! Thanks to MadLizzy for her beta skills and to the rest of you who previewed and who always make my day!

Paladin35

Karl finally relented once Sophia refused to put up a fight. She trembled, her hands clasped over the left side of her face, shielding her bad eye from harm. Her good eye was starting to swell and her lip throbbed where his hand had hit her repeatedly. Her cheek had gone numb, her ear ringing from his vicious strikes.

"You exhaust me, girl," Karl said, wiping the back of his hand over his face. "If you didn't insist on fighting there would be no need for me to treat you this way. What sort of wife will you make, hmm? You must obey your husband. Let this be a lesson to you that…"

Karl's voice trailed away. Past her shallow breathing, Sophia heard the cellar door rattle before it opened. She heard Karl swear under his breath before he replaced the knife he had used to cut her dress. He rose, grumbling to himself before he yanked Sophia to her feet.

She groaned as he pulled her by the arm, her feet dragging along the floor. "Don't hurt me," she begged, feeling warmth growing on her lower lip. Licking it away, she tasted the salt of her own blood and felt a surge of panic reverberate through her. "I want to see my brother. Please, Monsieur Turro, I want to see my brother."

"Quiet now," he said in her ear, tugging her dress back into place. He pressed her firmly to his side to support her weight. "We have company, my dearest."

Sophia's head rolled back, her body limp and growing heavier as she was consumed by her fears. "Erik," she whispered. "Please."

-0-

They stormed through the corridor, silent as shadows, passing the kitchen and a storage room. Erik claimed the right side of the hall and Philippe took the left, his eyes trained straight ahead. They had nothing to arm themselves, but Philippe assured Erik that Karl was not the type of man who carried weapons like some sort of barbarian. There was no time to argue, though Erik attempted to play out scenarios in his mind as to what would happen if Karl were in fact armed.

Being no stranger to weaponry, Erik assumed Karl would arm himself with a pistol, which gave him distance. Any man cowardly enough to abduct a young woman from her home would not have the courage to fight hand-to-hand, he thought wryly.

"Who's there?" Karl called out, his voice echoing down the hall.

Erik looked to Philippe, who silently nodded, asking for permission to voice his presence. Erik nodded back and slowed his pace, allowing Philippe to walk ahead of him.

Philippe rounded the corner, his back to Erik as he approached Karl. "Where is…Sophia, come here now."

"Monsieur Dupree? What are you doing here? We didn't hear you ring the doorbell from the dining room. Something must be wrong with it, I assure you. Would you like something to eat?"

"Sophia. Now," Philippe said. His posture changed, his voice matching his aggravated stance.

"I will take her home, Philippe. You have no need to worry."

Philippe moved forward and Erik did the same, keeping himself in shadows but moving far enough ahead to see Karl standing in the middle of the hall. Sophia's head was tipped forward and her legs bent, indicating that she was either unable to stand or was unwilling to do so.

"You have no right to come to my home and take her away without my permission."

Karl chuckled to himself. "We had an agreement, Philippe. There is no need to be angry over this…misunderstanding. These things sometimes happen, as I'm sure you're aware. I merely wanted Sophia to keep her promise and join me for a nice evening."

"Sophia," Philippe tried again, ignoring Karl's words.

Erik's heart raced, anger escalating as his gaze switched from Karl to Philippe. More than anything, Erik wanted to kill Karl, and as he stared at Philippe he didn't know what he was waiting for. If it had been his choice he would have stalked over and taken Sophia at once rather than waste time on arguing with an ignorant man.

"Sophia, I said come here," Philippe said as he stepped forward.

"I will take her home," Karl said as he gripped Sophia tighter, jerking her body and forcing her head to fall forward again. "As you can see, she's not feeling well this evening. It pains me to inform you that she had a bit of an accident following dinner and I was just about to call my driver and escort her home at once."

Sophia's head slowly raised and Erik saw her long hair sticking to her swollen lower lip. Her eyes slit open and she murmured something Erik couldn't hear. Without another moment of hesitation he came forward and stood beside Philippe.

"You're not welcomed on my property," Erik seethed, his eyes boring through Karl. "Never step foot on my land again."

Karl's eyes widened at the sight of Erik, but he gave an easy smile. "What is this, Philippe? Don't you trust me, my friend?"

Philippe's arm reached out and snatched Sophia from Karl's grasp, cradling her in his arms like a child as he walked backwards. Almost instantly she began to struggle against her brother's grasp, her head tossing from side to side as she begged him to put her down. He hushed her, and the sound of his familiar voice seemed to put her at ease.

"You do not come near her without my permission," Philippe said as he turned away, allowing Erik a clear view of Sophia. "And I assure you, Monsieur Turro, you will never be granted my permission again. How dare you ever..."

"I want to go home," Sophia said as her fist wrapped around her brother's lapel and buried her face against his shoulder. "Please take me home now."

Philippe looked from Sophia to Erik, the sorrow in his eyes clearly evident. Erik flexed his hands, wanting to be closer to Sophia but not knowing how to intervene without engaging himself in an argument.

With a ragged sigh, Philippe nodded to his sister. "I will never allow you from my sight again," he said softly. "Rest yourself. You're safe now."

Karl cleared his voice, and when Erik turned he saw Turro standing with his hands behind his back and a smug expression on his face. "I do hope you will reconsider, Monsieur, as I would simply hate to find another manager for my winery."

"You can go to hell," Philippe growled before he stormed toward the front of the house with Erik silently at his side.

As he watched the interaction between brother and sister, Erik couldn't help but feel that he had done little to protect Sophia and even less to prove his own good intentions. His pace slowed, his eyes cast down as he heard Sophia tell Philippe that she was frightened and didn't think he would come for her.

"I'm here now," Philippe assured her. "No one will harm you."

"And Monsieur Belmont?" Sophia questioned. "I thought I heard his voice. Where is he?"

"Yes, yes, he is here too."

Sophia lifted her head and looked over Philippe's shoulder, her hair still draped over her face as she stared somberly at Erik. She pushed her dark locks from her swollen face and frowned, looking almost apologetic.

"Mademoiselle," he whispered but he wasn't sure if she heard him. Philippe passed through the front door and Erik swiftly followed, but by the time he caught up to her and Philippe again she had turned back to her brother, who had just noticed the marks on her face.

"Did he hit you?" Philippe asked as he set her on her own two feet and brushed her hair back from her face.

Sophia lowered her eyes and kept her hand clasped over her dress. "I just want to return home."

"Did he hit you?" Philippe asked through his teeth.

Sophia hesitated a moment before she shook her head.

Philippe looked her up and down. "No? And your dress? What happened? It merely tore on its own accord?"

"I fell," she said softly.

"Fell?" he scoffed.

"Philippe, please take me home. I'm so tired."

"I'll take her," Erik said as he boldly stepped forward, his gaze trained on Philippe. "My horse can better accommodate two riders."

Philippe stared at Erik a moment before he shook his head. Sophia turned away from both of them, her face covered by her hands as she began to sob.

"I don't believe that is a wise decision tonight, Monsieur," Philippe said, breaking eye contact as Sophia began to sway. He helped her into the saddle, gave her his cloak and took the reins in his hand. "Thank you, Monsieur," he mumbled as he turned his horse.

The cold tore through Erik's silent form, his mind reeling back to the day Raoul de Chagny had spirited Christine away. Teeth chattering, he stood and stared, unsure of what had happened.

"I did things right," he murmured to himself. He swallowed hard and stared at the tracks in the snow. "I wanted to save her."

His every intention had been good, his thoughts solely on keeping Sophia safe.

"I came for you," he said blankly. "I came to rescue you."

His hands began to tremble, his legs feeling leaden as he stared at the drifting snow. His chest ached, his throat constricting as Philippe and Sophia disappeared from view. He felt lost, uncertain of where he should go or what he should do.

This wasn't the way the night was supposed to end. Sophia was supposed to be at his side, on his horse, in his arms. He was supposed to escort her home and comfort her. He was supposed to assure her that no harm would come to her, that she was safe in his company.

But again he stood in the snow as alone as he had always been, feeling emptier than he could ever recall—even more so than the day Christine had left her with her lover. This was supposed to be different. This was supposed to be perfect.

"I came for you," he whispered again, his eyes growing warm, the road disappearing from his clouded sight. He felt his stomach churning, his body doubling over in agony. He hurt physically now that she was gone, now that the woman he cared for—genuinely cared for—was gone.

"Sophia, I came for you," he said, his voice trembling as the wind whipped around him.

Erik wandered around the driveway, his feet shuffling toward his waiting horse as he attempted to sort out the night and pinpoint where he had gone wrong.

Why couldn't he do this? Why couldn't he earn her trust, her compassion? Why had he failed her?

His hand absently reached up, his gloved hand touching his mask. His eyes closed, attempting to contain the tears pooling, threatening to release. Just as he feared, emotion could not be denied, and as he untied his horse and swung into the saddle, he paid no heed to the tears streaming down his face.

She was gone and there was nothing he could do. He had failed her long before this night, long before he had ever met her. He had failed at birth, at the first breath he had taken, the first inhale of a terrible, loathsome monster that should never have survived past that first night.

From the corner of his eye Erik could see the gates and knew he was near the main road. He loosened the reins, having no idea which direction the Manor was located and caring less if he returned or not. He considered dismounting and releasing the horse, assuming the animal would find its way back to the stable.

He could barely breathe once the horse reached the road. "Home," he said, his voice trembling as he pulled back on the reins and dismounted. His hand ran down the horse's sleek black neck. "Go home to Gabe."

Erik wiped at his eyes, finding the moisture beneath his mask mixed with the cold wind made his skin sting. Soon he expected to feel nothing at all, which seemed a world better than what he felt now.

With the reins tied to the pommel he prepared to slap the horse and send him on his way, but before he raised his hand he heard a horse snort up the road. Lowering his eyes, he waited for the rider to pass him. The last thing he wanted was for a stranger to approach him and ask if they could offer their assistance.

The passing horse and rider stopped before him and he lifted his eyes, finding the rider staring down at him from beneath a black cloak. Without a word Erik glanced away, unsure of whether or not he should simply walk away or if he should mount his horse and wait until he was a distance away from the stranger.

"Good evening," he muttered before he pulled on the reins, his eyes trained on the road ahead and the cold that would claim him.

"Don't leave me," the rider said.

Erik froze, his mind almost certain that his ears had betrayed him. He turned on his heel and saw Sophia lower the hood from her head, revealing her bruised, tear-streaked face.

"I won't," he mumbled as he took her extended hand and helped her from the saddle.