Miriam’s POV
It had been three months since we vanished. Three months since Scarlett and I boarded that flight under false names, fled the ashes of what was once our entire world, and stepped into the biting wind of Nova Scotia. The quiet here was not peaceful. It was sharp. Heavy. The kind that sank into your bones and reminded you you were still running, even when you stood perfectly still.
Our house stood near the edge of a forest, set back from the gravel road where the post van sometimes passed but never stopped. The cottage had belonged to a Canadian couple Charles once helped in the late ’90s. When he died, they passed it on, no questions asked. A backdated deed. An alias. A lifeline.
Scarlett hadn’t asked many questions about the house. At least, not after we arrived. She just c
