“For your disobedience,” Fritzsch said. “And for your lie.”

The blow to the ribs was sharp and excruciating, and all I could do was whimper. Drawing a breath made my eyes water, but Fritzsch bellowed at me to get up, and I had to obey. Once I was on my feet, he grabbed my face with his leather-gloved hand and forced me to meet his malicious gaze.

“Listen carefully, 16671. You’re going to tell me which of these vermin you were talking to, or I will beat it out of you.”

“Forgive me, Herr Lagerführer, it was my fault entirely,” Father Kolbe spoke up. “No need to punish the girl.”

How Father Kolbe always managed to sound so calm, I never knew, but I wished he would take his words back. This wasn’t part of my plan. Fritzsch was supposed to catch me disobeying—only me. I’d forgotten to assume that, whether I’d spoken to Father Kolbe or not, of course he’d try to help. I couldn’t have picked a worse opportunity to test this strategy.

After pushing me away, Fritzsch approached his new target. Father Kolbe didn’t make a sound when Fritzsch struck him across the face, but it took everything in me to contain a protest.

“Both of you will stay after roll call,” Fritzsch said. He marched away, striking prisoners as he went.

I didn’t dare turn my head to look at Father Kolbe, but I apologized to him in the silence of my mind. Still, a flicker of hope rose into my chest. I wasn’t certain if keeping prisoners after roll call went against the kommandant’s wishes, but I imagined it did.

When roll call ended, we stayed in place while the prisoners swarmed around us and departed with their work details. Once everyone was gone, we were alone with Fritzsch. And Kommandant Höss was nowhere in sight.

It was far too late to take back my actions, but I regretted them. Maybe the guards had been wrong about the kommandant coming to the camp. I’d provoked Fritzsch into punishing me for no reason, and I’d brought my fate upon Father Kolbe, too.

Fritzsch looked between us. “You two are friends?”

I shook my head in immediate refusal, though I couldn’t fathom why. Lying wasn’t going to do me any good. Fritzsch nodded, then he hefted his club and approached Father Kolbe.

“Wait, no—I mean, yes. Yes, Herr Lagerführer.” I let out a breath when Fritzsch paused moments before he struck. “We’re friends.”

“In that case, you’ve made my job easy.” Fritzsch lowered the club and turned to me. “Choose his punishment. And he’ll choose yours.”

Beads of sweat trickled down my neck and brow, and not simply because the day was getting hotter with every passing moment. Before I could find words, Father Kolbe stepped forward.