Chapter 24

 Clara’s smile disappeared and her brows furrowed when the door opened. It was too early for Miles and Joseph to be coming inside, but her shock was too much for simply a disrupted routine. I looked over my shoulder to see a strange man stumbling into our home. His clothes were disheveled, dark stubble was across his jaw, and dark bags were under his eyes. He reeked of bourbon, which was something I had not smelled since coming to the home.

How had he gotten inside? Miles told me they had locked the door. He and Joseph never took the keys off from around their necks, so I never questioned it. Did they accidentally leave the door unlocked? Had it been unlocked for a while?

Clara pulled her hands off my stomach as she stood. The man’s movements were jerky and panicked as he reached into his jacket. He flipped out the blade of his pocket knife and held it toward us.

“Don’t move!” the man shouted, his words a drunken slur. “Stay where you are!”

“What are you doing?” Clara asked. Her voice wavered, and her eyes were focused on the knife. “What do you want from us?”

“Where’s your money?” he asked.

“We don’t have money.”

Clara’s body trembled. She chewed on her bottom lip as she clutched her chest. A wave of nausea hit me, and I cradled my stomach. The baby was still moving. The little flutters reminded me I had to protect my unborn child.

“My husband and son are outside. In any minute, they should be inside,” Clara said, the last part was a lie. “I suggest you leave immediately before they discover you’re in our home.”

“I am not leaving until I get something. I need money,” he said. “You better find something valuable.”

Clara looked down at me before letting out a shaky breath. She held her hands up as she walked across the kitchen. The man turned to keep the knife pointed at Clara. Her hands shook as she searched through the kitchen drawers. I was unsure what she was hoping to find. There was nothing of value in the kitchen. She shook her head as she slammed the drawers shut.

“We don’t have anything,” Clara said.

“You have nothing in this big house?” he asked. “I don’t believe that. You are stalling. Get me something worth money or I will gut both of you.”

I took in a sharp breath as I stood. The screeching of my chair against the floor caught the man’s attention. He looked over his shoulder at me but did not move the knife away from Clara. My eyes darted around the kitchen. There was nothing in this room this man would want, but there had to be something in this home. Neither Clara or my baby could get hurt.

My mind was fogged with panic. I struggled to think and recall what was valuable in the house. If I went into the living room, I could find something he would want, and he would leave. I rushed forward, but the man spun to point the knife toward me. I froze and held my breath.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“We probably have something you want.” My pounding heart caused my words to come out fast. “Let me look in the next room. We probably have something worth some money like a clock.”

“A clock?” he asked. “I don’t want a clock.”

“We don’t have anything!” Clara exclaimed.

The man looked back at Clara. She clutched her chest, and the man narrowed his eyes.

“Your ring,” he said. “Give me your ring.”

Clara’s jaw dropped. She looked at her wedding ring. For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut. A tear rolled down her cheek before she pulled her ring off her finger. The man snatched her jewelry out of her hold. He took a quick glance at the ring before turning to face me.

“Give me your ring too,” he said.

I chewed on my lip as I ran my finger across the gold band. Miles gave me the ring on our wedding night. The ring was important to me, but he had said it was also his grandmother’s wedding ring. Miles would be so disappointed I lost his family’s jewelry, but I had to keep our baby safe.

I nodded as I reached for the ring. I had never taken it off my finger since our wedding night. My fingers fumbled with the band, but I could not pull it off very far. The pregnancy had caused me to gain weight, but I had noticed how my feet and fingers swelled over the past few weeks. I yanked the ring, but it would not come off my finger.

“It won’t come off,” I said. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe as I tried pulling off the ring. “I can’t get it off my finger.”

The man scowled. He raised the knife again. I stopped trying to remove the ring, and I covered my stomach. I needed to protect my baby. The small little flutters continued, and I wondered if my baby could sense my fear.

“It won’t come off?” he asked. I violently shook my head, and his glare grew to something much more sinister. “I’ll just take your finger with it.”

“No!” I shouted.

This type of thing was supposed to stop happening. I was supposed to be safe from this kind of cruelty. There had been so many men who had attacked and threatened me before I came into this house. My life had already been threatened so many times. I was supposed to be safe here. How did he get in here? Why was the door not locked?

My arms stayed over my stomach, but I kept trying to pull the ring off. I was unable to get the band past my knuckle.

“Please! I can get it off,” I said. “I need a minute.”

“I don’t have time,” he said. “Give me the ring.”

“I need a moment!”

“Listen, bitch-“

The man stormed toward me. Clara’s words were an incoherent mixture of a scream and a cry. She threw herself forward and grabbed the man in an attempt to stop him. He threw his elbow back, but she did not let go.

“Don’t hurt her!”

They were the only words I could understand before the man pushed Clara off and turned. In one swift motion, he swung the knife forward. The blade buried deep into Clara’s abdomen. Her screams turned from a sound of fear to an ear-piercing noise of pain. He ripped the blade out of her flesh, and blood gushed from her stomach. Her hands covered the wound as she collapsed.

The man did not stop. He climbed on top of Clara and pinned her to the floor. She held her hands out to defend herself, but it was futile. The man swung his hand down and stabbed her in the chest.

Without thinking, I started running. Protecting my baby was important, but I could not watch him kill Clara. I needed to help and grabbed the man’s shoulders without thinking straight.

The man pulled the blade out of Clara’s chest. Blood sprayed, and warm drops splattered across my face. Clara made a horrendous noise like she was choking on her blood and was unable to breathe. The man tried to shake me off as I clung to his back. I tried to grab the knife, but he contorted his back to keep it out of my reach. I was only able to grab his forearm, but I could not stop him from forcing the blade back into Clara’s chest.

I screamed as I was desperate to get him off Clara. The smell of alcohol that clung to him was revolting, and burned my eyes and nose. He stabbed Clara in the chest over and over despite my attempts at protection. Her garbled cries and screams stopped. Was she no longer breathing?

I grabbed the man’s face and dug my fingernails into his skin. He screamed, and I raked my nails across his face. The blood bubbled to the surface as he howled in pain. He pulled away from Clara because his attention was now focused on me.

Was I going to have to kill this man? If I did not kill him, was he going to kill my baby and me? The door was unlocked so I could potentially run to Miles or Joseph for help. Where were they? I did not know the layout of the farm at all.

My fingers dug deeper into the man’s flesh as he tried to shake me off. If I let go, he would attack Clara again. There was the possibility she could still be alive. She could still be saved.

The man managed to twist my hand off his arm. He swiped the knife down, and the blade tore through the skin on my forearm. A fiery pain ran across my arm, and my fingers uncurled from his skin. I fell off his back, and my arms wrapped around my stomach. My baby was not hurt as I landed on my back. I scrambled backward until I hit the kitchen cupboard.

My arm burned, and blood coated the blue fabric of my dress. It was a mixture of Clara and I’s blood. The man swore as he struggled to stand. He staggered for a few steps before the door burst open again.

Miles ran into the house. He barely looked at Clara or me before charging toward the stranger who was covered in our blood. The man’s eyes widened as he took in Miles’s intimidating size and murderous glare. He let out a string of drunken swears as he held his hand up. Miles swung his fist, and I could hear the sound of bones crunching.

The man crumpled to the floor. He cried out, and one hand covered his bleeding face while he scrambled toward the knife. Miles grabbed the weapon first. He pinned the man to the floor before stabbing him in the throat. The man made the same terrible noise as Clara, but it was much shorter as Miles turned the blade.

I was so focused on Miles murdering the man that I did not see Joseph come inside. He kneeled in the pool of blood next to Clara’s body. She was not moving and no longer making those terrible noises. Her chest was not rising and falling with breath.

She was dead.

My body was overtaken with shock. I was unable to move. Only a few minutes ago, I thought life was perfect. One man wanted to hurt us, and he ruined everything.

Joseph’s eyes were glassy with tears. I had never seen him upset, but it looked like he was chewing on his bottom lip to stop himself from crying. He brushed Clara’s hair away from her face. His fingers grazed along her cheeks as he shook his head.

Once the intruder stopped moving, Miles rushed over to me. Blood was splattered on his skin and clothes. He kneeled and cupped my face in his hands. Turning my head from side to side, he examined me.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I was paralyzed with shock as I looked at the kitchen covered in blood. My attention was focused on Joseph and Clara. Miles forced me to stare at him, and his expression was unreadable. How was he not panicking or in a state of shock?

“Maisie,” Miles tried to regain my attention. “Are you or the baby hurt?”

I shook my head as I rubbed my stomach. My movements caused Miles to look down, and his eyes widened. My arm burned as the blood soaked through my dress. The baby did not stop the little flutters. Miles lifted my arm to look at the wound.

“Your arm is hurt,” Miles asked. “Is there anything else wrong?”

I shook my head, still unable to form words. Miles ignored the blood and placed his hands on my stomach. The baby’s movement grew stronger from either all the shock running through my veins or a reaction to Miles’s touch. A crease formed between his brows as he narrowed his eyes. The tension somehow grew in his muscles.

“What’s wrong with the baby?” he asked, fear seeping into his voice.

“She is moving,” I said. My voice sounded so weak and far away, but I was amazed I could speak. “It’s good. She is getting bigger and stronger.”

“She?” Miles asked.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I placed my hands over Miles’s. Warm tears rolled down my cheeks. How could my happy memory with Clara be so recent? How could this all go so terrible so fast?

“Your Mother predicted we are having a daughter,” I said.

“A daughter?” he asked.

“Briar.”

Everything had been perfect, but I should have known that it would be brief. The horrors from the outside world somehow found me again.