Élodie's mind raced as the sound of engines grew louder, the unmistakable hum of a Gestapo convoy cutting through the night like a blade through silence. She glanced desperately at the small room, the makeshift sanctuary she'd turned into a hideout for Liam. The walls seemed to close in on her, each second drawing them all closer to discovery.
Liam, though fevered and weak, understood the gravity of the moment. His hand twitched toward hers, his grip weak but determined. His voice, barely a whisper, reached her ears. "You can't... do this alone, Élodie."
She looked at him, her chest tightening. He's right. She couldn't do this alone—not anymore. But the choice was out of her hands. They were already in this together.
God, please, she thought as she grabbed a blanket from the corner, trying to cover him with it and make him look like just another bedridden soul in a village affected by the war. She moved quickly but quietly, her steps muffled by the old wooden floors.
The convoy was close now. The murmur of boots on gravel, the clinking of weapons. She could almost feel the weight of the officers' eyes searching for anything that didn't belong. And Liam, his breaths shallow but steady, was the one thing that didn't belong.
A frantic knock at the door startled her. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Luc.
She didn't have to open the door to know it was him. The sound of his boots was unmistakable. But the suddenness of his arrival made Élodie's heart drop. He couldn't know, not yet. The Gestapo was too close. She had to keep it together.
With a final glance at Liam, who gave her a silent look of understanding, Élodie moved swiftly to the door, her hand trembling as she placed it on the knob.
"Élodie," Luc's voice was low, urgent. "They're here. The patrol's close. We don't have much time."
Without hesitation, she swung the door open just enough to slip her face into view. Luc's eyes searched hers, his expression hardened, but she could see the flicker of something—something like regret, but also determination.
"They've come for you, Élodie. For both of us."
A heavy silence stretched between them. She could hear the soldiers' voices now, distant but approaching. She needed to make a decision. Fast.
"Luc," she whispered, stepping closer to him, "we're not going to make it if we don't act now."
His brow furrowed, confusion momentarily overtaking his fear. "What are you saying?"
"You need to get out. Take the back path. I'll distract them. I'll make sure they don't find you here. But you have to go, now."
His lips parted as if to protest, but Élodie silenced him with a firm hand on his arm. There was no more time for words. The Gestapo were too close.
"You have to trust me, Luc," she said, her voice breaking slightly but with conviction. "Go."
She saw the hesitation in his eyes, the pain, the weight of the decision she was asking him to make. And yet, despite the raw emotion flickering across his face, he didn't argue. Luc turned, his shoulders tight, his jaw set in a grim line, but his eyes were filled with something that could have been gratitude—or maybe just the last remnants of hope. He disappeared into the night with a final glance over his shoulder, disappearing into the shadows of the Pyrenees.
Élodie closed the door with a soft click, her heart pounding in her chest. The room felt colder now, the weight of her actions pressing down on her like the full force of the war.
The footsteps grew louder. She could hear their murmurs—foreign, cruel. The language of her enemies. The moment of truth had arrived.
She turned back to Liam, who lay motionless on the cot, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. There was nothing more she could do but trust that the choices she'd made would be enough.
The door burst open with a force that shook the room. Two Gestapo officers stormed in, their eyes sharp and suspicious. Élodie didn't flinch, didn't let the tremor in her hands show as she stood tall, trying to mask her fear behind the practiced calm of someone who had long since learned how to survive under the oppressive weight of war.
One of the officers, a tall man with sharp features and a cruel smile, surveyed the room with disdain. He sniffed the air, his gaze briefly flickering to Liam, who was lying beneath the blanket, feverish and silent.
"What do we have here?" the officer sneered, stepping closer to the cot. "Looks like someone's not feeling well."
Élodie's pulse quickened, but she kept her voice steady. "My brother. He's ill. He's been like this for days."
The officer raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing. The other soldier moved closer to Élodie, his hand hovering near his holstered weapon.
"And you're here all alone, are you?" the first officer continued, his voice thick with suspicion. "No one else around? How convenient."
Think fast, Élodie told herself. Her mind whirred, calculating. They had no time to waste. One slip, one hint of panic, and everything would come crashing down.
"He's... He's the only one left," she said quietly, her heart racing. "Everyone else... they left. The village is deserted now. My family is gone."
The officer exchanged a look with his partner, and Élodie's breath caught in her throat. He was too close now. Too close to the truth.
"I don't believe you," the officer said, his voice colder. "We're going to have to search."
"No," Élodie said, her voice rising, but her tone sharp, controlled. "You can't. He's contagious. You'll get sick too."
For a moment, there was only silence, the air hanging heavy with the weight of her lie. The officer's eyes lingered on her for what seemed like an eternity, and Élodie forced herself to stand tall, to hold his gaze. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, feel the sweat beading at her brow, but she didn't move.
Finally, the officer sighed, disgust evident in his face. "Fine. But if we find anything suspicious, we'll be back."
The tension in the room was suffocating as they turned and exited without another word. Élodie stood there, unmoving, her eyes trained on the door. Only when their footsteps faded into the distance did she allow herself to exhale, the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding rushing from her lungs.
She moved quickly to Liam's side, checking his fever, making sure he was still breathing, still alive. She didn't know how much longer they could keep running, but for now, they had won a moment of peace.
The cost, however, was far from over.