Evangeline reeled back. Tears marred her cheeks as she reached for Simone’s arm. “Please, wait. You haven’t given me a chance to explain—”

But there was nothing left to say.

“I would hate to soil your reputation.” Simone brushed the stone dust from her hands. “You have such important work to do, after all. Watching idly while they tear us limb from limb.”

“Simone,” Evangeline hissed. “It is the safest way—”

But Simone was already walking toward the quays. Shouldn’t she feel lighter, a burden lifted? Now Evangeline couldn’t betray her to the Gestapo, endanger Georges-Yves and all the rest. Now she wouldn’t taste appeasement on those too-soft lips. Like the appeasers themselves—Simone had been trying for so long to ignore what was right in front of her, and only now could she see past it.

But all she felt was the humid air, the hollow where her heart should be. Her hands itched without warm flesh beneath them.

Simone knew, then, how the next few months would unfold. She could lie unsleeping, hands itching, in the bed she shared with her mother. Curse herself for her temper, her refusal to succumb to the easy, passive path.

Or put herself to use. Any way she could.

They scavenged the farmhouse for supplies, then Phillip set fire to the basement on their way out. It would take at least five, maybe ten minutes for the blaze to spread to the rest of the house, which should give them enough of a head start. Enough that the fire would be a distraction rather than a homing beacon.

As long as they kept moving.

“What makes you so sure there aren’t more of those things out here?” Phillip asked, after they’d been trudging in silence for half an hour. No signs of other humans yet, but soon they’d cross the main road west of Siegen.

“Nothing. But it doesn’t matter.” She scanned the roadway, but it was motionless. “We need to make it to Siegen tonight.”

The town of Siegen had the misfortune of being one of the military operations compounds for the western troops, handling administrative matters and logistics for forces heading into occupied Belgium and France. Once the American helped them establish their secure and covert communications channel, Georges-Yves had explained, their network’s contacts in Siegen should be able to flood the airwaves with fresh intelligence for the Resistance.

“You know,” Phillip said, “you still haven’t told me your name.”

Simone motioned him across the road, catching a faint whiff of smoke. From the farmhouse, or something else? She closed her hand around her rifle strap where it crossed her chest. “Names aren’t important.”

“I’m supposed to be able to trust you.” He shuffled forward so they were walking side by side. “Kind of hard to trust you if you can’t even tell me your name.”