Chapter 38

"David, are you hungry?" Emily Johnson whispered as she carried her son into the inner room, carefully lighting the kerosene lamp. The flickering amber glow cast shadows across the walls, illuminating David's pale little face.

"Mom, I wish Dad were home," David murmured, his small fists clenched. His voice trembled slightly. "Then the bad man wouldn’t dare steal from us."

Emily’s heart warmed. Even frightened, he was thinking of protecting her.

"Mom isn’t scared," she said, ruffling his hair. "Go to sleep. I’ll check on Tommy."

When she returned from the next room, David had already curled up under the blankets like a frightened rabbit. With a soft sigh, she blew out the lamp.

Meanwhile, the village headquarters blazed with light.

"My boy! My poor boy!" Margaret Wilson wailed, throwing herself over her unconscious son. "Who did this to him? Who dared hurt my child?"

John Stone Sr., the village chief, stood with a stern expression. "Peter was caught stealing in the middle of the night."

"So what if he took a few things?" Margaret shrieked. "Was it worth nearly killing him?"

"Enough!" John slammed his hand on the table. "At dawn, he goes to the police station!"

Margaret’s cries cut off abruptly, as if someone had grabbed her by the throat.

Back at home, Emily slept fitfully, haunted by nightmares of Peter’s snarling face. She jolted awake to find the sky tinged with the first light of dawn.

Beside her, David slept soundly, his face soft and peaceful in the morning glow. Emily rose quietly, but as she pushed open the door, she froze. Mary Stone stood in the yard, her expression grave.

"Mother..." Emily’s pulse quickened.

Mary hurried over, lowering her voice. "The whole village knows what happened last night."

Emily clenched the hem of her shirt. She wasn’t afraid of Peter—but she worried about how this would affect her children.

"Don’t worry," Mary reassured her, patting her shoulder. "Your father-in-law has handled it."

Suddenly, angry shouts erupted from beyond the gate.

"Emily Johnson! Come out here!" Margaret’s shrill voice pierced the air.

Emily paled, instinctively glancing back at the house. David and Tommy were still asleep—they couldn’t hear this.

She took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and walked toward the gate.

This storm was only beginning.