The man’s voice was angrier now. And it was hard to make out what was happening, a dull blow like when you hit your leg, and a heavy thump like when you fall on the floor. But even though he couldn’t see, he just knew somehow anyway. And it didn’t feel good.

“You get one more try. Before I shoot.”

That deep, strange voice.

Hugo felt it stabbing in his stomach and chest.

He understood—this was real. They weren’t just threatening Mom, they were going to kill her. And he didn’t think, he just did it. He shouted at the hole in the ceiling that was also the hole in the floor.

“We’re here!”

As loud as he could.

“Don’t shoot our mom!”

Silence. They’d heard him. They’d been listening. They weren’t going to shoot.

Until it wasn’t quiet anymore.

He jerked at the first shot. He lost his balance and fell down from the iron stand on the second shot. Then he screamed, and Luiza screamed, awake now.

Chapter 49

Zofia had kept her promise to herself. She had protected her children. And she didn’t close her eyes when the shots went off.

In the midst of everything she imagined Hugo’s voice. Imagined he was screaming, revealing where they hid.

As if death were playing a joke on her.

It took a while for her to realize it wasn’t the man with the predator eyes who was shooting. Because he was the one who fell. And after him, the other man landed on top of him, his equally masked colleague.

They were the ones death was playing with.

Blood was still flowing from her forehead as she raised herself up. She wasn’t the only person here. Not the only one alive. There was someone else in the room, she sensed someone breathing, just behind her.

A woman. Young. She held her weapon so confidently, a gun that looked like the ones the Swedish police used.

“Where are your children?”

The woman’s voice was just as confident. Warm and safe. As if she hadn’t just shot two people.

“In the closet. Are you with the police?”

The young woman looked into the empty closet, then at Zofia, then back at the closet.

“Yes. I’m with the police. But I think . . . you must be in shock. Surely you see they’re not in here. But I can hear a small child crying, somewhere. Please try to remember where you saw them last?”

“If you lift the floor of the closet. Underneath it. In the basement. An air raid shelter.”

The young policewoman kneeled down as she searched across the square board, while Zofia stayed on the bedroom floor, her legs didn’t really want to follow her up.

“What’s your name?”

“Under it, you said?”

“Who do you work with?”