Miles was away for much longer than I anticipated. He should have only been gone for a few minutes. John could not have gotten far. Miles was so much larger than him, so I doubted there was much of a fight.

Was Miles unable to find John? Did he manage to get off our property? If John told anyone what happened, the police would be on our doorstep. Would Miles attempt to attack the police to keep the family safe? Would he be that foolish?

Emma had stopped moving, and her rattly breathing had gone quiet. The leaves underneath her body were soaked with blood. I ran my fingers through the grass covering Clara's grave. I had not gotten off the ground as I continued to speak to Clara.

I stopped when I heard the crunch of leaves under someone's footsteps. My eyes widened when I saw Miles. I had expected him to come back covered in blood, but I was not anticipating he would return with Maisie. Why was she with him? Why did he take her out of the house?

She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but I could see the blood splattered across the side of her dress. Crimson streaks were across her pale skin and blonde hair. She was holding Jasper, and a few drops of blood were on the baby. Miles had his arm tightly around her waist as he held her close to his side. His knife was in a tight grip in his other hand.

I pushed myself up onto my feet and brushed the dirt off my pants. Maisie cranned her neck to look up at the trees. The smallest smile formed on her lips.

"What happened?" I asked.

"The man tried to break into our home," Miles said. "He broke the window, but I killed him before he could hurt Maisie or Jasper. I need you to take them back to the house and stay with them."

"Why did you bring them outside?" I asked.

"They are not safe in the house while the window is broken," he said. "They need one of us with them at all times."

I nodded as I stepped toward them. Miles glared at Emma's body and did not let go of Maisie. How worried was he about having them outside?

He did not let go of Maisie until I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. He kissed her temple before walking toward Emma. I quickly turned us around and pulled Maisie back toward the house. I did not want either of us to witness what he was going to do to Emma's body. She tried to look over her shoulder, but I curled her tighter into my body. She was already covered in blood. I did not need her to become emotional.

"Are you injured?" I asked.

"No," she said. Her voice was rough as if she had been crying. "He did not touch us."

I let out a deep breath and took another look at her and my grandson. While walking through the leaves, I noticed her feet were bare. I had no idea where her shoes were. She has not need them since I brought her into the family. The last time I had seen her outside was when I was drunk and crying about Clara. How long ago was that?

"Who were those people?" Maisie asked.

"I do not know," I said. "It does not matter who they were. You and Jasper are safe, which is all that is important to me."

"Do you-?"

"I need to get both of you inside and out of the cold." I cut her off because I did not want to listen to a string of questions. "I do not need either of you to get sick."

Maisie nodded. When we came closer to the house, I saw the kitchen window shattered. I let out a slight groan. How were we going to afford to fix this?

Stepping closer, I could see a bloody body sprawled across the porch. Maisie took in a sharp breath and curled herself into my body to block her view. She was trembling, so I held her close and guided her up the porch steps.

My stomach twisted with nausea as I looked down at John's body. The front of his coat was covered in a layer of blood from multiple stab wounds. His fingers were severed and rolled away from his body. I held Maisie closer to me to keep her away from the body as we walked into the house.

I did not let go of her until I locked the door. Maisie sighed, and I sat at the dining room table. She chewed on her lip before walking toward me.

"Can you hold Jasper while I finish dinner?" she asked.

"Of course," I said.

Maisie placed Jasper in my arms. He started smiling a few weeks ago, and seeing his little happy expression made my heart flutter. Even with the few drops of blood on his pale skin, he looked like a happy baby.

When I looked up, Maisie was at the counter chopping vegetables. Her gaze kept flicking up at the broken window. Shattered glass covered the sink and the other side of the counter. The side of her dress was coated in blood, and strands of her hair were soaked in drying crimson.

"Maisie, you should wash up," I said.

She did not answer me but shook her head as she continued to prepare dinner. Her feet were dirty from walking outside without any shoes. She tried to continue cooking without appearing upset, but I could see her shudder every time she looked down at the blood on her arm. I waited for her to cry, but there were no tears. Her breath was shallow and shaky, so I knew she was on the verge of having a meltdown.

I sighed as I stood. Maisie set the knife down and placed her hands on the counter. Her hand hung low as she took in a few sharp breaths. I shifted Jasper's weight so I could hold him in one arm. I grabbed the back of Maisie's bicep and pulled her back. She stumbled, but she did not fight me. She chewed on her lip as I pulled her up the stairs and into the bathroom. I forced her to sit on the edge of the bathtub and placed Jasper back into her arms.

She closed her eyes and stayed silent while I washed the blood off her skin and out of her hair.

–

When I came back into the kitchen, John's body was missing from the porch. Miles must have taken it while I helped Maisie get clean. She went into their room to change her dress, and I told her to rest. She did not leave the room, and I could hear her soft sobs when I walked down the hallway. At least she was trying to control herself.

I attempted to make dinner, but it was another tasteless stew. I was more focused on cleaning all the sharp pieces of glass so Maisie would not cut herself.

The pot of stew remained on the stove while I waited for Miles. I dragged my spoon along the edge of the empty bowl as I stared at the broken window. The sun started setting, but the house was not dark yet.

Miles walked into the home, and the front of his clothes were covered with blood. He glared at me before pulling the key off from his neck.

"You did not lock the door," Miles said.

"The window is broken," I said. "The lock is not doing much."

Miles let out a deep breath as he locked the door. I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat, looking at his blood-soaked clothes. Where were their bodies? He must have dismembered them, and Maisie would start cooking with them soon.

"Where is Maisie?" Miles asked.

"She is upstairs with Jasper," I said. "She was quite upset, so I told her to rest."

He nodded before looking over his shoulder at the window.

"We need to fix it immediately," he said. "I am going into town."

"Like that?" I asked.

He looked down at himself. He untucked his shirt, and his fingers fumbled with the buttons slippery with blood.

"Of course not," he said. "I will change my clothes and go into town."

"The window can wait until the morning," I said.

"No," he said. "I am not risking it. We need more than just glass for the window. We need metal bars. If the glass gets shattered, it will still keep us safe from outsiders."

"Metal bars?" I raised a brow. "That sounds ridiculous. Ridiculous and expensive."

Miles reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money. He dropped the bills onto the table, and I reached forward to snatch it and do a quick count. This was more than we have had in a long time.

"He had it in his coat," Miles said. "There was even more in their carriage."

"We can buy-"

"I am buying what we need to keep outsiders out," he cut me off. "We cannot risk this again."

Miles turned and went up the stairs to change his clothes. I took a couple of the bills out of the stack, folded them, and shoved them into my pocket. Miles may not want to go into town to buy meat, but I would visit the butcher myself.