“But she’s a little old lady,” I said, and only then did I realize that I was sobbing, and my feet were so cold they were burning. I looked down and realized I was barefoot, standing in the light dusting of snow. I sobbed again and looked at Dietger—the closest thing I could find to a friendly face on that dark street. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Perhaps she’s suspected of disloyalty to the Reich?” Even he sounded unconvinced. I took another step toward the house. This time, Dietger’s hand caught my elbow. He gripped it firmly.

“Sofie, please,” he said flatly. Then he dropped his voice. “I have to report any suspicious activity and even a hint of suspicious activity from you. Putting yourself right in the middle of a Gestapo operation is the very definition of suspicious activity.” He tugged me toward my own house. “Go back inside, Sofie. Go inside. Please. You can’t help her.”

I tugged at his arm but he was gripping me hard, determined to save me from myself.

“Damn you to hell, Dietger,” I choked out. He propelled me toward my house—not with malice, but with determination.

“Surely it would be more comfortable for you in the warm…” It was so cold that when he spoke, his breath escaped as mist. I shook my head, craning my neck toward Adele’s building. Would they drag her out? And Mayim too? Would the two of them go kicking and screaming? Would they go silently defiant?

I wanted to go inside to get some shoes…some socks…something to protect my feet, but I didn’t dare in case I missed something, and I was too anxious to even sit down, to take the pressure off the burning skin of my ice-cold feet. But minutes began to pass, and the street and the building fell completely silent. Time was elastic. In a city that had been on fire for days, the whole world seemed to have fallen asleep.

“How long has it been?” I asked Dietger eventually. My teeth were chattering so violently it was hard to speak. He looked at his watch, then shifted awkwardly.

“Uh…close to fifteen minutes…?”

Just then, we heard boots on the ground, and I looked up to see the Gestapo filing out of Adele’s house—empty-handed. Had she won? For just a moment, I felt a flare of pride and hope—maybe she’d convinced them to leave her be. Maybe she’d even talked them into leaving without searching her house. Maybe…