Chapter 3 - The Fragile Peace
Inside the house, life was a delicate balance of poverty and sudden, dangerous luxury. Raleigh was surprisingly clean; he didn't shed, he didn't destroy furniture, and he was pathologically obsessed with guarding Carrie.
Marcus found a heavy envelope on the porch the next day. It was filled with enough cash to feed them for a year. He knew where it came from. He stared at the money, then at his sister, who was currently teaching Raleigh to navigate the kitchen without bumping into the table.
"We have to send it back," Marcus said, his voice hollow.
"It’s not blood money," Carrie said, not turning around. "He didn't give it to us. He gave it to Raleigh. He’s trying to buy his peace of mind back, Marcus. Let him pay."
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"You don't understand how these people think," Marcus argued.
"I understand how dogs think," Carrie snapped back, a flash of sudden, uncharacteristic iron in her tone. "They know when they're being fed, and they know when they're being hunted. Sean isn't hunting us. He's waiting. He’s waiting to see if I’m as soft as I seem."
