Could he make himself close the rift for good? Daniel had asked him to. Daniel had seen what the shadow world was doing to him. Liam raked his hands down the sides of his face. If he closed the rift now, then it would all have been for nothing. He’d be an empty shell, the hollow, precocious boy who’d pushed too hard and come up short, when all he wanted was to drink up the shadows until there was nothing of himself left—

No. The shadow was never going to grant him everything he needed. He blinked back tears. But the shadow could help him save Daniel still—take down the Nazis at Wewelsburg. If it didn’t destroy him first.

A loud banging tore him from his thoughts. Someone was pounding on the door.

Liam was crumpled in the corner of the kitchen. Not exactly hidden from sight. He should stand up, find a hiding place. But his body didn’t seem too interested in following through. It was futile—it would take so much effort; it would cost him so much more than he had to give right now, with his heart wrenched open and the shadows just out of his reach, a danger in themselves. The bloody paper wadded in his fist was taunting him as fiercely as the darkness had. Another thing he couldn’t change.

“Werner? Are you here?” a voice called in German.

Liam said nothing. Did nothing. He’d been scooped out.

The polished boots stopped in front of him.

“You are not Werner.” The man reached down and forced Liam’s chin up. “So why did you have his car?”

The soldier’s compatriots flooded through the chalet, circling him. It would be so easy to touch the shadow and shred these men. But Liam was drained now; he reached out for the frequency but everything unraveled at his touch. Even if he could access it, Pitr was waiting, just waiting, to snare him again. Liam did nothing as the soldiers bound his hands and steered him toward the waiting truck.

“Let me guess,” Liam muttered as they shoved him onto the low bench. “You’re taking me to Wewelsburg Castle.”

The soldiers surrounded him on the bench as the truck lurched to life. “Oh, no. We have other plans for you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

PHILLIP

The more Ilse, Mitzi, and Jürgen talked, the less comfortable Phillip felt.

They’d believed themselves fairly inured to the Third Reich’s upheaval until Himmler chose their beloved castle for his Camelot. We thought surely this fad of ignorance would pass, they explained as they trudged through the woods. After all, this isn’t Germany, not really. Real Germans would never behave so cruelly.