The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and pine as Élodie and Luc prepared to leave the cave. Dawn had brought no warmth, only a muted light that cast the world around them in shades of gray. The wind had picked up, biting at their skin as if to remind them of the dangers they faced outside the safety of their temporary refuge.
Élodie knelt beside Liam, her fingers brushing against his feverish skin. His breathing was shallow, but there was a flicker of awareness in his eyes as he stirred. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur of fear and uncertainty, but now, more than ever, Élodie was convinced that she couldn't leave him behind. Not when the stakes had become so personal.
"Élodie," Luc's voice cut through her thoughts, heavy with urgency. He was already gathering their few belongings, his gaze flickering toward the entrance of the cave, where the shadows were beginning to lengthen. "We need to move. We can't wait any longer."
Élodie met his gaze, her heart a tangle of conflicting emotions. Luc's concern for their safety was real, and his instincts were sharp. But the tension between them had only deepened in the past hours, unspoken but palpable. She could feel it now, like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her with the knowledge that she could no longer ignore what had been growing between them.
But now was not the time for those thoughts. Not yet.
"Help me get him up," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos inside her. "We'll make it to the village. It's our only chance."
Luc hesitated, his eyes narrowing in what could only be described as reluctant understanding. Then, without another word, he bent down beside Liam, his hands reaching to help lift the wounded agent.
With their burden shared between them, they began their trek through the rugged terrain of the Pyrenees. The path was treacherous, the jagged rocks and dense underbrush slowing their progress. Élodie moved quickly, her eyes scanning the surrounding wilderness for any signs of movement—any hint that the enemy was nearby.
Liam's fever had not broken, and his condition worsened with every step. Yet his grip on her hand tightened in the moments when he was conscious, as if he was clinging to something—a lifeline in a world that had slipped into chaos.
They pressed on, the weight of their situation heavy on all their shoulders. Every crack of a twig underfoot felt like a gunshot in the stillness of the forest, every rustle in the trees a whisper of danger.
The village of Saint-Céleste loomed ahead as they crested a small hill, its silhouette dark against the pale morning sky. It seemed to be waiting, as if holding its breath, a peaceful façade hiding the scars of its history. The vines that had once been tended with care now curled aimlessly, wild and untamed, much like the villagers who had survived the occupation with secrets buried deep within them.
Élodie's heart pounded in her chest as they drew closer. She could already picture the narrow streets, the hidden corners where the Resistance met, the whispers that passed from one hand to another. This village had been a safe haven for many who had fought back against the German forces, and it would serve them now as well.
But there was no guarantee that they would be safe here.
The presence of the Gestapo was always a threat, a shadow that hung over them. Élodie knew that even the slightest slip-up could cost them their lives. But her thoughts kept returning to Liam, the way his hand gripped hers, the desperate look in his eyes.
As they neared the outskirts of the village, Luc stopped, his eyes scanning the horizon. "We need to split up," he said. "I'll head to the safe house. You take him to the healer's cottage. It's closer."
Élodie nodded, though the unease gnawing at her gut was hard to ignore. She wanted to protest, wanted to insist on sticking together, but she knew Luc was right. Time was against them. They couldn't afford to risk both of their lives in one place.
With a final, lingering glance at Luc, Élodie helped Liam toward the healer's cottage, her every step measured, every shadow watched. The village was eerily quiet—too quiet, she thought. The tension in the air thickened as they reached the front of the small cottage nestled at the edge of the village, hidden by overgrown vines and shrubbery.
She knocked twice, the sound of her knuckles against the wood seeming too loud in the stillness of the morning. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for a response. It came soon enough—a soft shuffle of feet from within, followed by the creak of a door opening just a crack.
A pair of sharp eyes appeared in the narrow gap, studying them for a moment before the door was opened wide. "Élodie," the woman said, her voice low but unmistakable, her expression unreadable. "What brings you here, child?"
"Please, Suzanne," Élodie urged, her voice desperate. "It's Liam. He's been shot, and he needs your help."
Suzanne's eyes flickered to the injured man in Élodie's arms, and she stepped back, her door wide open now. "Come in, quickly," she murmured. "We don't have much time."
Inside, the cottage smelled of herbs and earth. The walls were lined with shelves of jars, tinctures, and dried flowers. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, offering warmth that seemed too delicate for the harsh world outside.
Suzanne moved with the precision of someone who had seen too much death, too much suffering. She gestured for Élodie to lay Liam on a small cot by the fire. The healer's hands moved swiftly over his body, her fingers checking for signs of internal injury, her expression a mask of focus.
Élodie hovered, barely breathing, watching as Suzanne worked. "How bad is it?" she asked, her voice trembling with the weight of her question.
Suzanne looked up, her gaze somber. "He's in a bad way. The wound is deep, and the fever isn't helping. But… he'll live. If we're lucky."
The healer's words did little to soothe Élodie's worry, but they gave her a thread of hope to hold onto. As Suzanne worked, Élodie turned to the window, her thoughts drifting back to Luc, to the war that was creeping closer, and to the impossible choices that seemed to rise before her with each passing day.
She couldn't stay in the shadows forever. But for now, all she could do was keep him alive. Keep them both alive.
The war, the Resistance, her loyalties—they would all collide soon enough. But in this moment, there was only Liam. Only the quiet promise of something more.