Page 93 of Beehive

I showed her the silver chain and placed it gently on the table, my last token of value. Her gaze flicked to it, and for a moment, I saw sadness in her eyes.

She picked up the chain, let it pool in her palm. “It is beautiful,” she whispered, more to herself. “I will take it.” Then she looked at me sternly. “Not everyone in this city has turned into a monster. Some of us still try to help.”

“Thank you, Elke.” I nodded, my throat tight. “I won’t forget.”

She reached out and touched my wrist. “Be careful. The Russians are tightening their grip. Something has happened, and crossing will be dangerous.”

“We will. Thank you, again.”

With that, I slipped into the hallway holding our precious supplies close to my chest. Threading my way back through the quiet streets, my confidence grew.

I had what I needed, whatThomasneeded.

When I finally reached the apartment in which we hid, Thomas was asleep where I’d left him. A surge of relief flowed through me as I sat beside him.

I’d made it back.

He was still alive.

We’d taken one more step toward survival.

“Thomas,” I whispered, touching his forehead.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, glazed with pain and fatigue.

“I got some supplies,” I said softly. “A nurse gave me bandages and something for the pain.”

I bent down and pressed my lips to his forehead, then pulled back, unwrapped the cloth, and got to work. I planned to give him the morphine right before we moved. For now, I cleaned his wound again and applied the sulfa powder. He winced, gritting his teeth, but didn’t cry out.

“Hold on,” I murmured, tightening the fresh bandage. “We’re going to a cellar near the canal. It’ll be safer than this place and get us a little closer to the border.”

He tried to smile, lips pale. “Sounds fancy.”

I clenched his hand.

I would do everything to keep this man alive. With some luck and caution, we’d hunker down at number nineteen, wait for a moment to slip past the Soviet patrols, and cross the border.

We had to.

The canister in my pocket, the statue tucked away—those were burdens we carried for a greater cause, but in that moment, all that mattered to me was Thomas’s life.

I steadied myself.

We weren’t done yet, not by a long shot. We had the beginning of a plan, and we had each other. Sometimes that was enough to tip the balance between darkness and light.

I pressed another kiss to his brow. He barely registered it, half conscious from pain and exhaustion. So, I settled down beside him and tried to rest.

Outside, the city kept its secrets, and the Soviets kept their watch.

I didn’t know how yet, but I swore we would find a way through.

33

Thomas

As I adjusted the makeshift bandage on my shoulder, a sharp sting reminded me I wasn’t fully healed. Will moved ahead, a silhouette against broken walls and a jagged skyline, his movements careful but quick.

He turned back and signaled us forward.

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