Turn.
I run; my body stops moments before another wall. On I go, wholly given over to my basest of abilities, sightless and senseless and driven by manic terror—
When I stop this time, it’s different. A pause only.
Ahead of me, an arm’s length away, I hear a rush of breath that I recognize. A quick, shuddering exhale in the lightless nothingness.
Then, “Fritzi?”
I dive forward.
My arms lock around his neck, and Otto makes a startled cry that pings off the stones.
“Verdammt, Fritzi! I wasn’t sure if it was you!”
“Sorry, sorry—”
“Warn me before you tackle mein the dark, schiesse.”
“Next time, I’ll be sure to.”
“Good, I—next time?”
I drop my face into the curve of his neck, my racing heart thundering to stillness against the wall of muscle that is his chest. In the vast, sweeping place of senselessness that these tunnels create, I’m consumed by the smell of him, the feel of him, a quick respite.
I realize then that I hadn’t thought I’d see him again. And I’d been terrified by that idea.
Which is justmaddeninglyannoying.
I don’t release him, but I smack his arm. “You werelate.‘The midmorning bells, Fritzi,’” I badly mimic his voice.“‘Remember, the midmorning bells—we move on which bells? The midmorning—’”
He curses again, but he tightens his hold on me, lifting me off the floor. “I know, I know. I’m sorry—I was held up.” He pauses, and I feelthe hitch in his chest, a quick gulp of breath. Held up by what? “You’re all right, though? Everyone escaped?”
“Yes, they’re all on their way out. The explosion worked perfectly.” It rocks through me, again, how well planned this breakout was, how brilliantly Otto brought all this together.
He saved the lives of a hundred people in the span of five minutes.
“And you’re all right?” he repeats, giving me a gentle squeeze.
I go rigid. When he feels the change, his grip intensifies, and a part of me melts entirely.
Eyes shutting, I keep my face pressed to his neck. “I can’t leave without Liesel.”
“I know.” His hand splays flat on my lower back, his thumb moving so slightly against the wool of my cloak that I could be imagining it. “I know where she is.”
That makes me draw back. I can’t see his face, but I can feel the feather of his exhale from his parted lips, the warmth emanating off his skin.
“You saw her? Where? Is she alive?”
“She’s alive. I—”
“Where? Where does he have her?” I wiggle against him, trying to get out of his arms, but he doesn’t relent, and I give him an exasperated look he can’t see. “I have to get her. I don’t expect you to help—”
“Fritzi,” he says in that tone like iron, the one that demands obedience so instinctively that I do stop struggling against him, only to roll my eyes at myself and flush in the dark. “Do you really think I’d save a hundred people only to leave a child behind?”
“I lied to you. About who Dieter is.”What he is.
Otto finally sets me on the tunnel floor, but his hands move to my hips, and his fingers curl into me, binding me in front of him. The imposing force of his presence, even in the dark, coupled with the tuggingcommand in his tone has me grappling for purchase with a handful of his tunic, trying desperately to pull myself together.
