The day stretched long as Élodie sat beside Liam, her mind caught in a war of its own. The once-quiet house felt anything but serene now. The walls seemed to lean in closer with each passing hour, their weight heavy with unspoken words and the constant awareness of the outside world—a world teetering on the brink of discovery. Yet, even here, amidst the ruin, there was a strange calm. Liam's steady breath against the pillow was a reminder that, for the moment, they had won this battle. But for how long?
Luc had left, his presence a flicker of urgency that faded as the sound of his footsteps disappeared into the forest. He would return with help, or so he promised. But Élodie knew better than to trust in promises alone. Trust, in times like these, was a currency few could afford.
Liam shifted slightly in his sleep, a subtle wince crossing his face as he struggled against the pain. Élodie leaned closer, her fingers gently brushing his brow, her touch tender, though the sharp tang of fear still lingered in the pit of her stomach. He was a stranger—yet not. She had seen many soldiers, many faces of war, but something about him—his silent strength, the vulnerability in his quiet moments—spoke to her in a way she couldn't explain.
And it unsettled her.
She stood and walked across the room to where her small collection of plants sat in the windowsill, their pale green leaves swaying gently in the breeze that crept through the cracked glass. A botanist by trade, her love for the earth had always been her refuge, a place of peace amidst the chaos. Yet even now, as she touched the delicate petals of a wild violet, her thoughts were miles away, caught between the man she was harboring and the man she had known her whole life.
Luc.
The very name sent a cold ripple through her chest. He was no stranger to her heart. They had been children together, had grown up alongside one another, and even in the darkest of days, he had been her constant—her protector, her friend. He had never spoken of love, not truly, but she had seen it in his eyes, those quiet, tender glances he shot her when he thought she wasn't looking. The unspoken promise of something more, something that could never be—at least not in the life they had now.
The life they had now was torn by duty and war.
And yet, there was Liam—foreign, injured, a casualty of a world on fire. He had come to her in his own desperation, needing help just as much as the others who had passed through these walls. But there was something else, something more than just the mission. She had seen it in his eyes, too—the same flicker of recognition, of something unspoken. And that terrified her.
She pushed the thought away. She couldn't afford distractions. There was work to be done, and even in this fragile moment of calm, the world outside was still a danger waiting to devour them whole.
Élodie turned back to the room, catching sight of Liam again, his face pale but peaceful now, as if he had finally succumbed to the healing power of sleep. She moved to his side, carefully adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. The warmth of his skin against the cool air made her pulse quicken, though she tried to ignore it. This was no time for weakness.
Her gaze lingered on him, drawn to the way his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. There was a certain grace to him, even in his wounded state—something that spoke to the quiet resilience that war could never fully destroy. But he was still a soldier, and soldiers had no place for softness.
She inhaled deeply, gathering her resolve. The door creaked open suddenly, and Luc stepped back into the room, his expression unreadable.
"They're coming," he said without preamble. "The Gestapo. I saw their patrols on the eastern trail. We don't have much time."
Élodie felt a chill run through her, the words hitting her like a bucket of cold water. "How long?"
"Not long. Maybe an hour before they reach the village. We'll need to leave before then."
Her heart hammered in her chest. "And Liam? He's not in any condition to move."
Luc's jaw tightened, his eyes scanning Liam's still form. "We don't have a choice. If we stay here, we're all dead."
Élodie's mind raced, her heart torn between the desperate need to protect Liam and the brutal reality of their situation. She couldn't leave him behind. She wouldn't. But moving him was a risk—a dangerous one.
She stepped closer to Luc, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are you suggesting we do?"
He met her gaze, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "We take him. We carry him out of here. We don't stop until we reach the mountains. They'll never think to search there."
Élodie swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling like lead in her stomach. The mountains. She knew them well—the jagged peaks that stretched beyond the horizon, the hidden paths carved into the rocks by generations who had sought refuge there. But it was a treacherous journey, one that would take them deep into enemy territory. They would be exposed. Vulnerable. Every step a gamble.
But it was their only chance.
She nodded. "We'll need help. You can't carry him alone."
Luc's lips tightened in a grim smile. "I don't intend to."
A sense of unease settled over her as she glanced at the door again, watching the shadows outside grow longer, the faintest sound of boots on gravel signaling that time was slipping through their fingers. The choice had been made.
There was no going back.
As Luc moved toward the door to gather what little equipment they had left, Élodie found herself kneeling beside Liam once more. She studied his face, the faint lines of pain etched into his features, and for the briefest moment, the war outside felt distant, the screams of a world at war muted by the quiet connection that had formed between them. She could almost forget, in that moment, that she was risking everything for him—everything.
But she couldn't afford the luxury of forgetting.
"Élodie," Luc's voice called from the door, snapping her back to reality. "We need to move."
She took one last look at Liam, her heart aching with a mix of fear and something else—something softer. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was real.
"I'm coming," she said softly, her voice steady as she turned toward the door.
There was no turning back now.