We approached the gate, where a familiar figure waited for us—Hania. Without a word, she fell into step with me and tossed a cigarette butt into the snow. Tension emanated from her and Irena, as icy as the wind lashing across my body. Something was amiss. Once we passed through the gate and began trekking across the fields from Birkenau to the main camp, both opened their mouths to speak. Neither succeeded.

I didn’t need an explanation. I’d been anticipating this day since the Sonderkommando revolt.

“The Political Department wants to speak with me about the rebellion.”

When I’d heard that the guards had found remnants of gunpowder capsules in Crematorium IV and traced them back to the Union Munitions Factory, I’d also heard that four of our resistance women had been caught, interrogated, and tortured by the Political Department, otherwise known as the camp Gestapo. Since I’d been employed alongside those same women, I’d had a feeling my time would come.

“The bastards called me into a meeting last night,” Irena muttered. “They want to see all prisoners who recently worked in the Union Munitions Factory. Since you’re a special favorite of mine, I have the pleasure of overseeing your interrogation.”

“And Irena told them you’d need an interpreter, so we’ll be with you the whole time,” Hania said.

I came to an abrupt halt. “No, I don’t want either of you there. Witnessing it will be too difficult.”

“If we’re absent, how will I explain Frieda’s sudden change of heart or my lie about the interpreter? We’re staying with you,” Irena said with finality.

Hania looked across the empty field toward the distant, dark outline of the forest, and I could almost see the plan formulating in her mind. “Maybe none of us have to go into that room. You two can escape—”

“Escape?” Irena’s laugh was scathing. “Every part of this fucking camp is crawling with guards, including the perimeters near the forest. They’d catch us in a heartbeat. If it weren’t for your damn uprising, we could’ve left weeks ago.”

“My uprising?”

“It was your brother and his friends, wasn’t it? He won’t say as much, but it was.”

“Is that so, yenta? Did you hear that from your SS friends?” As she finished speaking, Hania’s glare abruptly shifted. She held up a hand to interrupt Irena’s retort and brushed past us. “Delay the interrogation however you can, Irena. I won’t be long.”

I knew exactly what she was planning, and I grabbed her arm. “Don’t, Hania. You promised, and I won’t let you go to Protz on my account.”

“Did I ask for permission?” She tried to pull away, but I held firm, so she rounded on me. “Let go, Maria.”

“I doubt that bastard has any influence over a Gestapo interrogation,” Irena said with a scoff.