By the time they reached Emma and Sarah’s house, word had already spread across the neighborhood.
People stood on their porches, watching the line of trucks roll down the street.
Emma was playing outside when they arrived.
She immediately recognized the scarred man.
Fear flashed across her face as she ran toward the house.
“No,” Rocco said firmly as he stepped out of the car. “Emma, don’t be afraid. He’s here to return what he took.”
Emma stopped, staying close to the doorway as the men began unloading the furniture.
Her sofa.
Her mother’s dresser.
Her small bed with pink butterfly sheets.
Sarah appeared at the door, stronger than the night before thanks to the food and care Rocco had arranged.
When she saw Vincent, anger replaced fear.
