Élodie's legs burned with the effort of running, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she pushed through the dense underbrush of the forest path. The cool night air wrapped around her like a cloak, but there was no comfort in its embrace—only urgency and fear. Her mind raced, heart pounding in her chest, each beat a reminder of the danger she had just left behind, and the uncertainty that lay ahead.
She couldn't afford to look back. Not now. Not when Luc had made his stand.
Her thoughts were a whirlwind as she stumbled through the darkened forest, the twisted branches of the ancient oaks above her barely allowing any moonlight to filter through. She could hear the distant echo of boots against gravel, the harsh voices of the German soldiers carrying through the night air, and her pulse quickened with the knowledge that time was slipping away.
But even amid the chaos, one thought pierced her mind: Liam.
She had left him behind—alone, vulnerable, and still unconscious in Suzanne's cottage. The guilt clawed at her chest. Was he still safe? Had the Gestapo found him? Would they torture him for information, just as they had done to so many others?
A branch snapped underfoot, and she faltered, her breath ragged as she steadied herself against the rough bark of a tree. Panic threatened to take over, but she shoved it down, willing herself to focus. If she didn't get to him, if she didn't make it back to Suzanne's cottage before the soldiers did, everything would be lost.
The sound of movement ahead caught her attention. Her eyes darted toward the shadows, straining to see. It wasn't the Gestapo; no boots, no voices. It was something else—something closer, hidden in the darkness.
Her hand instinctively reached for the small knife tucked into her belt. She moved cautiously, her every step careful, deliberate, as she crept closer to the source of the noise. Then, just as she was about to turn the corner of a large stone outcrop, she froze.
A familiar voice broke through the silence, low and urgent. "Élodie."
It was Luc.
Her heart stopped, the weight of his voice sinking into her chest like a stone. She had barely heard him approach, but there he was, just steps away in the darkness, his silhouette barely visible in the shadows.
"Luc?" Her voice was hoarse, a mixture of relief and disbelief.
"I had to make sure you were safe," he said quietly, his tone almost apologetic. "I couldn't let you go alone."
Élodie opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips as she saw the set of his jaw, the quiet determination in his eyes. He wasn't here to argue. He was here to help—despite everything that had passed between them.
"We don't have much time," Luc continued, glancing over his shoulder, his face hardening. "The patrol is closer than I thought. We need to move."
Without waiting for her response, he grabbed her arm, gently but firmly, and tugged her forward. Together, they melted into the shadows, moving swiftly but cautiously, weaving their way through the dense forest toward the village.
The path felt like a lifetime away, every step a struggle against the mounting fear that pressed against her chest. But it wasn't the fear of the enemy soldiers that consumed her thoughts—it was Liam. Was he still alive? Was Suzanne keeping him hidden? And would they be able to get him out before it was too late?
As they neared the edge of the forest, Élodie's mind raced. The village was close now—only a few more minutes, if they hurried. But as they approached a clearing, the sound of footsteps reached her ears once more. Not the soft rustle of wind or animal calls, but the unmistakable sound of boots crunching against the ground. German soldiers.
Luc pulled Élodie to the ground, crouching beside her behind a thick cluster of bushes. His hand was firm on her arm, a silent command to stay still. They both held their breath, the tension between them palpable in the darkness.
The patrol was almost upon them, their voices low and clipped as they scanned the forest for any signs of movement. The moonlight glinted off their rifles as they passed, too close for comfort.
Élodie's heart raced as the soldiers drew nearer. She could feel the heat of Luc's body beside her, the faintest tremor in his hand as it gripped her arm. There was no room for error—no room for hesitation.
They couldn't be caught. Not now. Not when they were so close.
The soldiers' footsteps paused just feet away, and Élodie held her breath, praying they wouldn't spot them. Every second seemed to stretch into eternity. And then, just as the tension reached its breaking point, the soldiers moved on, their voices fading into the distance.
Luc's grip on her arm relaxed slightly, but he didn't let go. They stayed there, hidden in the darkness, for several moments before he finally whispered, "We need to move. Now."
Without waiting for her reply, Luc stood and pulled her to her feet, guiding her forward through the underbrush with swift, silent steps. They were close now—so close she could almost taste it. The distant lights of Suzanne's cottage flickered ahead, a beacon in the night.
But just as they reached the edge of the forest, a shout rang out from behind them.
"Stop!"
Élodie's blood ran cold. Her eyes flew to Luc's face, his expression one of grim resolve.
The Gestapo had found them.
The chase was on.