The cellar was dank, its stone walls cool against Élodie's flushed skin as she eased Liam's unconscious form to the ground. She knelt beside him, heart pounding, her breath ragged from the sprint through the night. The faint glow of the moonlight creeping in through the tiny windows barely lit the space, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch like the fingers of ghosts through the old, dust-laden air.
She didn't know how much time they had. The village was quiet, too quiet, as if the earth itself was holding its breath. Every creak of the floorboards above them, every whisper of wind outside the walls, felt like a warning. The Gestapo would be searching soon, if they hadn't already begun. There was no room for mistakes.
She glanced at Liam, his face pale and smeared with dirt and blood. His uniform, once pristine, was now little more than tatters. She had never seen a man so broken yet so alive, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he hadn't yet been swallowed by the wreckage. The silver chain around his neck glinted in the dim light, the only thing that seemed untouched by the violence of the crash. Élodie reached out, her fingers brushing the cold metal, her thoughts swirling. What am I doing?
It was a question she had been asking herself more and more these days. She had been trained to be loyal—to the Resistance, to her people, to her country—but there was something about this man, this stranger, that pulled at her. He was a soldier, just as she was, and yet, as she looked down at him, she saw not an enemy but someone desperate, broken, and in need of help.
I'm no different, she thought bitterly. We are all just broken things in this war.
She stood, wiping the sweat from her brow, and began to work. She found the old medical kit she had kept hidden in the corner, a relic from before the war had overtaken her life. The bandages were frayed, the antiseptic nearly gone, but it would have to be enough. She moved quickly, efficiently, knowing every second counted.
As she tended to his wounds, a soft rustle echoed from the far side of the cellar. Her pulse shot up, and she froze. Her first instinct was to flee, but the door was already bolted shut. She was trapped, just as much as he was. But then she realized—there was no sound of boots, no heavy tread that came with Gestapo patrols. It was only the rustling of the old vines above, their tendrils shifting in the breeze.
She exhaled sharply and bent back to Liam, her hands trembling only slightly now. His forehead was hot with fever, his breathing shallow. But there was a grim determination in the set of his jaw, and despite the blood and the pain, there was a fire in him that hadn't been extinguished by the crash. He would survive. She had to believe that.
But for how long?
The door to the cellar creaked again, but this time, it was a human voice that broke the silence.
"Élodie?"
She turned quickly, her heart leaping into her throat. Luc. His voice was soft, hesitant, but the familiarity of it made her heart ache. He hadn't seen her in weeks—hadn't seen her since he left for his mission. He had come back, as promised, but now, as always, there was the unspoken weight between them. The years of friendship, of shared secrets and stolen kisses, were buried beneath the endless tide of war. And in that moment, as his figure appeared in the doorway, framed by the dim light from outside, she knew nothing would ever be the same again.
"Luc," she whispered, her voice tight. "What are you doing here?"
His brow furrowed, his eyes scanning the cellar, searching for something he couldn't name. His gaze landed on Liam, lying motionless on the ground, and his face darkened. His shoulders tensed as if he had been struck, his hand twitching by his side.
"Élodie," he said again, softer this time. "What have you done?"
She straightened, her jaw set. "What I had to. He's one of ours."
Luc stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her face. "One of ours?" His voice was edged with disbelief, and for a moment, she saw the flicker of something darker—something unfamiliar—flash in his eyes.
"Yes," she said firmly. "He's a British agent. I couldn't leave him there. He would have died. And I couldn't let that happen." Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped toward him, a desperate pleading in her gaze. "Luc, you have to understand. This is bigger than you or me."
Luc's gaze softened slightly, but the tension in his posture remained. "You don't understand," he muttered under his breath. He glanced at Liam, then back at her, his voice low but thick with an emotion she couldn't quite place. "This could ruin everything. You know that, don't you?"
"I didn't have a choice," Élodie whispered, her voice breaking.
"You always have a choice, Élodie." His tone was sharp now, like the edge of a blade. "But you're making the wrong one."
The weight of his words settled heavily between them, and for the first time in years, Élodie felt the distance between them grow, a chasm of suspicion and confusion widening with each passing second.
"I'm doing what's right," she said, almost pleading. "For all of us. For the Resistance."
Luc's eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might leave. But then, something shifted in his expression. A flicker of the old Luc—the one who had held her hand as children, the one who had kissed her beneath the tree where they'd first confessed their love—emerged. His gaze softened, but it was fleeting.
"I'll help you," he said quietly, stepping forward to kneel beside her. "But you need to know... this is dangerous. And if anyone finds out—"
"I know," she interrupted, her voice trembling. "I know. But I trust you, Luc."
He hesitated for a long moment, his eyes lingering on her face as though searching for something he couldn't quite find. Then, without another word, he reached for the medical supplies, his fingers brushing hers in a fleeting moment of connection.
The sound of distant voices echoed outside, and Élodie felt a surge of panic. The Gestapo. They were close. Her heart raced as she looked between the two men—Luc, the childhood friend who had always stood beside her, and Liam, the stranger who had unknowingly become a part of her world.
What have I done? she thought as the storm outside grew closer.
But there was no turning back now.