Mr. and Mrs. Belmont had taken to walking through the village of Brackenwell, their steps slowing when they stopped in front of the small gates of the house they had once called home. But now, it was bare and covered in snow.
"To think we lived here not so long ago," Mrs. Belmont murmured. When her husband pulled his arm from her grasp, she frowned. "Where are you going?"
"To take a walk. I will be back," he answered, already stepping away from her.
Ezekiel was growing irritated. The way Megan clung to him reminded him too much of Caroline. His steps quickened as he took the street that curved back towards the cemetery, towards Ruelle.
But before he could get far, two men approached from the opposite side. One of them stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
"What?" Ezekiel questioned.
"Harold Belmont," the man spat. "Where do you think you're going when you owe me money?"
