Jessica

I heard them before I saw them.

Elijah's careful footsteps on the porch, the hitch in his breathing, that meant he was carrying something or someone.

Immediately the door flung open, my worst fears were confirmed.

My daughter was cradled in my husband's arms like a child, her hands bleeding, her face pale and marked by tears.

"What happened?" I demanded, already moving toward them, my hands reaching for Samantha even as anger gathered in my chest. "Who did this?"

Elijah's expression ...