Emmett remained in the sewer as Eira and Dieter made their way back toward the surface. He would leave shortly after them, once enough time had passed to avoid drawing attention and head for the administration building to play his part.

  Eira and Dieter cut through a narrow alley at a brisk pace. They did not run instead, they moved with purpose, Boots striking stone in steady rhythm as artillery endlessly thundered somewhere beyond the buildings.

  “I loathe that man,” Dieter said quietly. The words were low and sharp, edged with anger he did not bother to hide.

  Eira nodded once. “He is not a pleasant individual,” she replied flatly. “Believe me.”

  “And now we are placing our hope in him,” Dieter continued, his jaw working as if he were grinding something bitter between his teeth. “I cannot shake the feeling that this is a mistake.”

  Eira glanced at him as they emerged from the alley into a wider street. Rubble choked the gutters, and smoke drifted low between the buildings. “I feel the same,” she admitted. “And yet, what choice do we have? I do not want to die for nothing, Dieter. But part of me wishes I had never seen that letter. The burden of what it contains is heavy.”

  He let out a long breath. “It is,” he said. “We have a duty to our kind. And so, we spite our masters and accept the leash of another.” He fell quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Then his steps slowed, and he lowered his voice further. “Eira. If they are killing us off, then you know what that likely means for Vollmer. And the juveniles.”

  Eira’s pace faltered. She stopped altogether, eyes fixed on the street ahead as the realization struck. Dieter took two more steps before noticing, then turned back toward her. The expression on his face was grim and unguarded.

  He stepped close and gently took her hands in his. “My dear Eira,” he said softly. “They would likely kill them first. The letter does not say it outright, but I fear the worst. If that is true, then those of us here in Berlin may be the last of our kind.”

  She met his gaze and squeezed his hands, her claws pressing lightly against his fur. “We are trapped,” she said quietly. “In the worst possible way.”

  “I know, little sister,” he replied, offering a bitter smile. “All we can do now is share what we know. Try to save who we can. And spite the Reich for attempting to murder its own creations.” His voice firmed. “Let us be brave now.”

  Eira nodded, though her thoughts churned. “What of the others?” she asked. “Stosstrupp Zwei. Can we convince any of them?”

  Dieter shook his head. “Perhaps Rolf. Ernst, possibly Otto. But they will not listen to me if I suggest this outright.”

  As they continued on, Eira caught sight of movement to her left. Emmett emerged briefly from the mouth of the alley behind them, already striding toward the main building with purposeful steps. He glanced in her direction, his expression openly irritated, then turned away and disappeared into the flow of soldiers and debris.

  Dieter followed her gaze. His ears flicked once before he reached down, lifted the helmet from his belt, and settled it over his head. He left the strap undone.

  “I am considering something,” he said after a moment. “It may be foolish. But Oberleutnant Haller has been a true friend to us. Perhaps we speak with him. If he understands even part of the situation, the others may follow his lead.”

  Eira’s brows lifted slightly. “Is that wise?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Very little of what we are about to do feels wise. But I would not suggest it if I did not have hope in the man.” He paused. “I will not explain everything. He does not need to know about Emmett. Only that we have met with a sympathetic Hauptmann.”

  Eira exhaled and nodded. “I trust you,” she said softly.

  Dieter gave her a small, encouraging smile. “And I trust you, little sister.”

  They moved on together, passing clusters of mustering Wehrmacht troops and scattered Volksturm units. The Wehrmacht barely spared them a glance. Weeks of fighting alongside the infamous Sturmwolf had dulled most curiosity. Their attention was fixed firmly on resting, eating or whatever task was at hand.

  The Volksturm, however, stared openly.

  Disbelief. Unease. Fear.

  Old men and boys alike watched the two hybrids pass, eyes wide and faces pale. Eira and Dieter ignored them, keeping their focus forward as they pressed on toward the warehouse where their squad waited.

  They were spotted from a distance. Otto straightened first, calling out to the others as Eira and Dieter drew nearer. Oberleutnant Haller stood nearby, deep in conversation with Unteroffizier Vetter and Feldwebel Kranz. His expression was tight with frustration, his gestures sharp as he spoke. He turned toward them as they entered the courtyard.

  “There you two are,” Haller said, his voice carrying clear frustration. Eira and Dieter snapped to attention at once, heels together, shoulders squared. Haller pulled off his cap and dragged a hand through his silvery hair.

  “Ack. We must be moving soon,” he continued. “What is command thinking, pulling you both without informing me? And right before troop movement.”

  Dieter cleared his throat. “Oberleutnant Haller. We respectfully request a moment of your time. Privately.”

  At that, several heads turned. Otto and the others glanced between the two hybrids and their commander, suspicion flickering across tired faces. Haller studied Eira and Dieter for a long moment, then let out a resigned breath.

  “Come along, you two,” he said, motioning toward a small shed beside the warehouse. “But let us be prompt, ja?”

  Annoyance colored his tone, but there was something else beneath it. Fatigue, perhaps. Or unease. As they walked, he glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Some good news at least while you were away. Feldwebel Kranz and I managed to secure us some ammunition. We may not yet have to start throwing stones at the Russians.”

  The attempt at humor landed flat. Neither Eira nor Dieter responded. Haller sighed and nodded to himself, as though sensing the weight of what they intended to say. They stepped into the shed, Dieter lingering near the door. He looked to Haller, hand resting on the handle. At Haller’s brief nod, Dieter closed it carefully behind them. The hinges groaned in protest, the sound echoing softly in the confined space.

  Thin light filtered through a cracked window and through rust-eaten holes in the tin roof above. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams. The air smelled of oil, old wood, and damp metal.

  Haller glanced around once, then folded his arms and faced them squarely.

  “All right,” he said. “What is this about?”

  His tone was equal parts exasperated and wary.

  Dieter looked to Eira who gave a small nod.

  “Oberleutnant Haller,” Dieter began, “we were meeting with a Hauptmann Schafer. He shared with us some troubling information.”

  Haller’s brows lifted as Dieter reached into his coat and withdrew the crumpled paper Emmett had given them. He began to unfold it, extending it toward Haller.

  Haller’s eyes widened in instant recognition.

  He snatched the document from Dieter’s hands so abruptly that part of it tore free, leaving a fragment still pinched between Dieter’s fingers.

  “Where did you get that?” Haller hissed, his voice low and sharp as he violently stuffed the paper into his pocket.

  “You know what that is?” Eira asked, her voice rising despite herself.

  Haller lifted a hand, palm outward, his eyes darting past them toward the door as he confirmed they were still alone. Then he nodded and rubbed at his temples.

  “Ja. Of course.”

  Dieter opened his mouth, but Haller cut him off.

  “Please. Listen to me for a moment.” He straightened, tugging at his tunic as though trying to pull himself together. “Ja, I know about this. And about a week ago, as you both know, I was informed that they were keeping especially close watch on the first of your kind.”

  He paused, jaw tight.

  “The situation is what it is. I apologize if that sounds heartless, but the only chance any of us have is holding the line.” He raised a stern finger. “And what that letter says, likely won’t matter if we can hold Berlin. Things look grim, but we must trust that…”

  “It has become more than grim, Oberleutnant,” Dieter said suddenly, cutting him off.

  Haller stopped mid-sentence.

  Dieter met his gaze, his voice steady but heavy. “Every day there are more Russians. And I fear dying out as a kind, Herr Haller.”

  The Oberleutnant studied him for a long moment, something troubled passing behind his eyes.

  “What are you suggesting, then?” he asked finally. “What did this Hauptmann Schafer tell you?”

  Eira answered before Dieter could. “He suggested that we surrender to the Allies.”

  Haller’s eyebrows shot upward. He groaned and planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he let out a long, weary breath.

  “And why,” he said slowly, “why are you bringing this to me?”

  He reached into his coat for his familiar tin of snuff, fingers fumbling slightly. “If you intended to flee to the Allies, why bother speaking with me at all?”

  “Because we want Stosstrupp Zwei to come as well,” Dieter said firmly.

  Haller stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. The tin of tobacco hung forgotten in his hand. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then let out a short, surprised laugh. He carefully removed his cap and held it loosely in both hands, studying Eira and Dieter in silence. The air in the shed felt thick, pressing in on all three of them.

  When he finally spoke, his expression had softened, but the exhaustion remained etched deep into his features.

  “Nein,” he said flatly.

  A cold sweat slid down Eira’s spine, her stomach tightened but Dieter did not move.

  “I wish to save them, Haller,” Dieter said quietly. His voice was careful, controlled. “They may not listen to me. But they will listen to you.”

  Haller shook his head and lifted one hand in a weary, dismissive gesture.

  “I have a duty to fulfill, as do the others,” he replied. “And so do you. Both of you.” His gaze moved between them. “I know your intentions are well meant. Truly. But I ask you to stay. Fulfill that duty.”

  He studied them for a long moment, then finally opened the tin of snuff. He pinched a small amount between his fingers, hesitated, then let out a long, tired sigh instead.

  “You may do as you will,” he said at last. “If this is your choice, then I will admit I am greatly disappointed.” His shoulders sagged slightly. “The ship is sinking, yes. But we must try to save it. Still, if you prefer the lifeboats, I will not stop you.”

  The words landed heavily in the cramped space. Before either Eira or Dieter could respond, a sudden scrape sounded just outside the shed. All three of them startled at once, heads snapping toward the wall.

  “Schiesse,” Eira whispered, her ears flattening hard against her skull.

  Haller flinched, the tin slipping from his fingers. It struck the floor with a dull clatter, bursting open as grains of tobacco scattered across the dusty boards. He cursed under his breath, crouched quickly to scoop it up, shaking loose debris before snapping the lid shut and stuffing it back into his coat.

  Then he surged to the door and threw it open.

  Varan stood in the doorway.

  Her ears were pinned flat against her head, her expression caught somewhere between confusion, shock, and hardening resolve. Her brown eyes burned as they flicked between the three of them. Her hands trembled slightly on the MP40 as she tightened her grip.

  Haller froze.

  For a heartbeat no one moved.

  Varan drew in a deep breath, then another, as if trying to steady herself. Slowly, deliberately, she brought the barrel of the submachine gun up and centered it on Oberleutnant Haller. Her finger settled against the trigger.

  Haller raised his hands at once, palms open, movements careful.

  “Oberschütze Varan,” he said evenly. “You realize you are pointing your weapon at your commanding officer, ja?”

  His voice was calm, almost gentle.

  Varan scoffed. Her gaze slid past him to Eira and Dieter, her left hand lifting to irritably scratch at the bald patch on her snout. The motion was sharp and restless, then her hand snapped back to support the weapon. She stared at the two of them in disbelief, her head shaking just slightly before she forced her attention back to Haller.

  “You would let them leave?” she demanded. Her voice cracked with incredulity. She motioned with her weapon and both Eira and Dieter stepped out behind Haller, hands raised in the air.

  Across the courtyard, Otto lifted his head.

  He had been sorting through newly issued ammunition belts with near-giddy focus, checking each link and each round with meticulous care. The moment he saw Varan standing at the shed with the door open, Haller’s hands raised, and Eira and Dieter frozen inside, a cold chill ran up his spine.

  His tail went rigid. The fur along his neck bristled.

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  “Varan!” he barked.

  The others looked up at the shout. One by one they registered the scene, expressions shifting from confusion to alarm. Several started forward at once, then slowed as they drew closer, spreading out instinctively.

  Varan flicked her head briefly over her shoulder as they approached.

  Haller took a cautious step toward her.

  Varan immediately snapped the MP40 fully to her shoulder.

  “They were talking about leaving!” she shouted. “Oberleutnant Haller was going to let them!”

  Eira opened her mouth to speak, but Haller cut in sharply.

  “That is not what is happening,” he said firmly, never taking his eyes off Varan. “No one is leaving.”

  Unteroffizier Vetter noticed the commotion from the far side of the courtyard. He had been carrying a tin mug of something hot and steaming. It slipped from his grasp the moment he understood what he was seeing, clattering against the cobblestones as he broke into a run.

  “Varan! Varan!” he shouted, drawing his sidearm as he closed the distance. “Drop the weapon now!”

  Nearby Wehrmacht troops turned at the sound of raised voices. Within seconds, confusion rippled outward. Men grabbed rifles. Someone shouted for orders. Boots pounded against stone as more soldiers rushed toward the growing knot of tension.

  Varan’s ears flattened further as she registered the movement and the shouting.

  “Nein! Nein!” she cried. “Listen to me! They were…”

  “Varan, drop your weapon immediately,” Vetter snapped, leveling his pistol at her. His face was pale with shock, his jaw clenched tight with anger.

  Haller nodded slowly, his hands still raised.

  “Varan,” he said calmly. “Do as he says. We will sort this out.”

  He took another careful step forward.

  “They are traitors!” Varan practically shrieked. “Eira and Dieter were talking about leaving, and the Oberleutnant was going to let them!”

  “Varan, that is enough!” Haller shouted, cutting her off. “Lower your weapon immediately.”

  Rolf took a cautious step forward, his golden eyes wide with something close to panic. He looked at Dieter as if seeing him for the first time.

  “Dieter… what is she talking about?” he asked, his voice unsteady, struggling to make sense of what he was hearing.

  “There has been a misunderstanding, Varan please put the weapon down.” Dieter said calmly, almost pleading.

  More soldiers filtered into the courtyard, forming a loose semicircle around the shed. Faces reflected anger, confusion, and wary disbelief. Rifles and submachine guns were raised. Fingers hovered near triggers. The tension thickened with every passing second as more boots arrived and more weapons came up.

  Varan’s breathing grew ragged as she noticed the growing number of barrels pointed in her direction.

  “Please!” she cried. “Listen to me! Oberleutnant Haller is facilitating treason!”

  Her grip wavered on the MP40. Voices overlapped. Orders were shouted from multiple directions.

  Unteroffizier Vetter stepped forward, his face flushed, spit flying as he barked, “Weapon down! Now!”

  Otto moved closer as well, only feet away now. His hands open, his voice tight with urgency.

  “Varan, please listen. You are only making this worse.”

  Haller shifted, moving slowly, carefully. His hand began to rise toward the barrel of her submachine gun while her attention remained fixed on Vetter. His expression softened, his voice dropping into something gentler, almost parental.

  “Varan,” he said quietly. “It is all right.”

  The moment his hand closed around the barrel, she startled.

  Her fingers clenched.

  The MP40 spat a short burst.

  The sound tore through the courtyard, sharp and violent. Shell casings rang against the cobblestones at their feet.

  For a fraction of a second, Haller did not react.

  Then his expression changed, confusion giving way to dawning realization. His hand tightened on the barrel of the weapon before going slack, slipping from it as his arm fell slowly to his side.

  Varan’s eyes locked on his face.

  He was still looking at her with that same softened, reassuring expression.

  Blood began to bloom across his chest, dark and spreading. His knees buckled as with a groan he tipped forward, almost pulling the weapon from her hands as he collapsed onto the filthy stones.

  Varan stumbled as his weight dragged at the gun, then recovered her footing. Her brown eyes went wide with shock and horror as she stared down at him, struggling to comprehend what she had just done.

  Soldiers surged forward, weapons snapping up as overlapping shouts filled the air. Disbelief and fury collided in the chaos.

  Otto lunged toward her, clawed hands reaching for the sling of her weapon missing by inches.

  Varan jerked back, panic overtaking her. She swung the MP40 toward Eira and Dieter, her face contorted with terror as reality crashed in around her.

  She lifted her free hand to her muzzle, a claw tearing at the bare patch of skin, drawing blood.

  “Please!” she said wide eyed and panicked. “Listen to me! They are traitors! Eira! Dieter! Haller! I am not…”

  “On the ground!” Unteroffizier Vetter roared, cutting her off. His pistol was leveled, his finger tightening on the trigger. “On the ground, now!”

  Through the press of bodies, a man pushed forward.

  His cap was pulled low. Gloved hands closed around a Walther pistol.

  Varan only noticed him when he was a few steps away, his weapon rising smoothly.

  Her eyes fixed on the eyepatch.

  On the ruined left side of his face.

  The pistol cracked.

  The shot echoed across the courtyard.

  Varan jerked as the round struck her in the neck. The MP40 slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground. She staggered backward, one hand flying to the wound, fingers coming away slick with blood.

  Her mouth opened, forming the shape of another desperate plea.

  No sound came.

  Emmett raised the pistol again.

  The second shot was sharp and final.

  The round struck between Varan’s eyes. Her body snapped back and collapsed in a sprawling heap against the stones. For a moment her limbs twitched violently, then went slack as blood soaked the fur around her neck and spread across the cobblestones beneath her.

  Emmett stood over her in silence.

  He studied her for several seconds, his expression painfully neutral.

  Then he glanced toward Eira. She caught the faintest flicker of annoyance behind his remaining eye before he turned away from her and addressed the stunned Wehrmacht troops and what remained of Stosstrupp Zwei.

  “She killed her commanding officer,” he said simply.

  His voice carried easily across the courtyard.

  “I do not know what she was screaming about, accusing these two of treason,” he continued, gesturing vaguely toward Eira and Dieter. “But they are being reassigned. She escalated the situation without understanding the full context. Acted rashly and killed Oberleutnant Haller.”

  He straightened and holstered the Walther with smooth efficiency, snapping the flap closed.

  “These are difficult times,” he added evenly. “We cannot afford mistakes like this.”

  Then he turned to Eira and Dieter.

  “Grab your equipment. We will be leaving shortly.”

  They hesitated.

  Emmett’s gaze hardened. He made a sharp motion with his hand.

  “Schnell.”

  They moved.

  Eira and Dieter threaded their way through the crowd, stepping carefully around spent shell casings and darkening blood. At the edge of the courtyard, Feldwebel Kranz stood frozen, his hands clenched around two overfilled ammunition sacks. His eyes were wide, fixed on Haller’s body where it lay on the stones, blood pooling beneath him.

  Nearby, Otto, Rolf, and Ernst stood shoulder to shoulder behind Unteroffizier Vetter. All three had removed their helmets. Vetter was issuing clipped instructions to a pair of soldiers who lifted Haller onto a stretcher and carried him away.

  No one spoke.

  Eira and Dieter collected their kit in silence.

  Eira shrugged into her pack, tightened the straps, and slung her rifle over her shoulder. She pulled her helmet from her belt and settled it back onto her head, fastening it with practiced motions. Dieter focused on his own gear, avoiding her eyes.

  When they returned, Emmett was already speaking with an SS officer.

  Eira recognized Hauptscharführer Richter immediately.

  “Ack. Truly a shame,” Richter said, gesturing toward the stretcher as Haller was borne away.

  Emmett followed the motion with his eye and nodded once.

  “Indeed.”

  He reached into his coat and unfolded a set of papers.

  “I must be on my way,” Emmett said smoothly. “It is important that these two accompany me for my assignment, Hauptscharführer.” He gestured toward Eira and Dieter as they approached. “I understand it affects Stosstrupp Zwei, but I have here…”

  Richter waved a hand dismissively.

  “Do not concern yourself. With Oberleutnant Haller dead and three members lost, they will simply be absorbed into another Sturmwolf unit.”

  Emmett held the orders out a moment longer. Richter waved again, uninterested.

  Emmett nodded, folded the papers, and slipped them back into his coat. He extended his hand. Richter clasped it firmly.

  “Thank you kindly, Hauptscharführer,” Emmett said. “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

  Richter inclined his head, then turned to Unteroffizier Vetter.

  “Gather your Sturmwolf, Unteroffizier. We will decide what to do with your people.”

  Vetter nodded stiffly and motioned for Otto, Rolf, and Ernst to move.

  They hesitated.

  All three stared at Varan’s body, lying forgotten in the middle of the courtyard.

  Otto swallowed hard and finally stepped forward. Rolf and Ernst followed. None of them met Eira’s or Dieter’s eyes as they passed, their faces drawn and hollow.

  Eira watched them shoulder their packs and collect their weapons. Then her gaze drifted back to Varan.

  A memory surfaced unbidden.

  Varan as a juvenile, crouched near the treeline, carefully building tiny houses from sticks and scraps. Eira beside her, arranging stones, the two of them laughing quietly as they worked.

  Eira felt her stomach tighten. A lump rose in her throat.

  “Come,” Emmett said calmly, though irritation edged his voice. “We need to move. There is much to do.”

  He turned and started walking.

  Dieter followed, head bowed, saying nothing.

  Eira lingered for a heartbeat longer.

  She glanced toward Otto, Rolf, and Ernst as they secured their gear. Otto looked back at her, confusion and grief written plainly across his face, as though searching for some explanation she could not give.

  She exhaled slowly, pulled her helmet down more firmly, and turned away.

  Her boots carried her after Emmett and Dieter. She could still feel the eyes of Otto and the others on her back. Her chest felt heavy. Guilt gnawed at her gut.

  They had tried to save Stosstrupp Zwei.

  Instead, they had damned them.

  They moved through the Berlin underground in silence, Emmett leading them deeper through tunnel after tunnel, descending into the rotting belly of the dying city.

  He had not spoken since they left the streets. Walking with measured purpose as his boots splashed softly through shallow runoff, pausing only when necessary to pull the folded map from his pocket and confirm their route. The paper whispered faintly each time he handled it, the sound strangely loud in the enclosed space.

  Dieter followed several paces behind him, head lowered, tail held stiff and rigid behind him. His shoulders were tense, posture tight, as though he were carrying more than just his pack. Eira forced herself to keep her thoughts clear. If she allowed her mind to return to the courtyard, to Varan, to Haller, to Otto’s shattered expression, she knew she would start to unravel. Doubt crept in when she lingered on it too long, and doubt would get them killed.

  Instead, she fixed her eyes on a loose strap on Dieter’s pack. Letting it become her anchor, only breaking focus to check corners or listen for movement in the surrounding sewer lines. Water dripped steadily from overhead pipes. Somewhere deeper in the maze, something skittered, then went quiet.

  They reached a junction where the tunnel split in two. Emmett stopped and drew out the map again, angling it beneath the beam of his light. He studied it briefly, lips pressed into a thin line, then folded it away pointing left with two fingers.

  “That way,” he said flatly.

  Dieter hesitated, waiting for Emmett to move first. When he did not, Dieter rolled one shoulder and started forward.

  The moment he passed him, Emmett’s foot snapped out low and precise.

  Dieter never saw it coming.

  Emmett’s boot caught Dieter’s ankle, stealing his balance. Dieter went down hard onto one knee with a sharp grunt, his hands slapping against wet concrete as he fought to keep from faceplanting.

  Before he could recover, Emmett was on him. He seized Dieter’s collar with both hands and hauled him forward, dragging him close until their faces were inches apart. The calm neutrality vanished from Emmett’s expression, replaced by raw, almost unhinged fury. His body rigid, every muscle drawn tight like a coiled wire.

  “What. Happened?” Emmett snarled.

  Eira took a step forward instinctively but Dieter raised one hand without looking at her.

  “It’s okay, Eira,” he said calmly meeting Emmett’s lone green eye without flinching.

  “We spoke with our commanding officer,” Dieter said in an even, unapologetic tone. “We wanted to convince him to have Stosstrupp Zwei, the others, come with us.”

  For a split-second Emmett simply stared at him. Then his expression twisted as he suddenly shoved Dieter away.

  Dieter stumbled back, catching himself against the slick tunnel floor.

  “Why?” Emmett demanded. His voice climbed, sharp with disbelief. “I would’ve barely managed to excuse you two. And you try to drag the whole damn squad along? You told a German officer you were planning to run to the Allies?”

  His fists shook at his sides. His breathing had gone shallow and fast, like he was restraining himself from striking.

  Dieter straightened slowly beginning to rise to his feet.

  “I will not explain myself to you,” he said. “And I will not apologize. We are intent on saving as many of our kind as possible. We are already taking a risk. I will take many more if it means more of us survive. That is all I care about.”

  Emmett scoffed, incredulous.

  “So, you sabotage us before we have even begun,” he said quietly, the fury in his voice now compressed and dangerous. “Is that it?”

  He stepped closer again and continued “You know what the Reich does to people who even breathe dissent? I do. I have seen them hanging from lampposts in the streets.”

  Eira moved forward, her voice calm as she talked.

  “We only spoke with our Oberleutnant because we trusted him,” she said. “He refused to convince the others, but he gave us leave.”

  Emmett snapped his head toward her, brow raised.

  “And look how that turned out,” he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. “And who is to say he was actually going to let you go? That the moment you were out of earshot he did not line up a few riflemen and put rounds into your backs?”

  Eira straightened.

  “As you said, Emmett. Nothing we did mattered.” She said holding his gaze. “But we had to try. We are both willing to sacrifice if it means more of our kind can flee this city with their lives.”

  Emmett glanced between the two of them, shaking his head in open frustration. For several moments he said nothing, his breathing slowly evening out as he forced himself back under control. Finally, he planted his hands on his hips and turned slightly, gesturing down the tunnel where Dieter stood.

  “Down there leads to the rendezvous,” Emmett said, his voice settling into something that sounded calm but felt forced. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the folded map, creased it twice more, and held it out toward Eira. “And as I recall, this is where we split.”

  Eira looked at the map.

  Then she looked past Emmett to Dieter, who stood a pace behind him. His posture was rigid, his face set, his tail swaying slowly from side to side in a restrained, restless motion.

  Her jaw tightened as she took a small step backward.

  “I need to go with you, Dieter,” she said firmly.

  His ears twitched.

  “Nein,” he replied at once. “We will escort you to the rendezvous, then we will…”

  “There isn’t time,” Emmett snapped, cutting him off. His patience was gone again, voice sharp in the narrow tunnel. “If you truly want to save as many as you can. Either she goes with us, or we split up right now.”

  The words hung heavily in the damp air.

  Dieter studied Emmett for a long moment, golden eyes unreadable. Finally, he gave a slow nod, resignation settling into his shoulders.

  “Is it far from here?”

  “No,” Emmett answered. “And the route keeps her underground.”

  Dieter shook his head and stepped forward, brushing past Emmett close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Emmett scowled but said nothing.

  “It is better this way,” Dieter said, turning back to Eira. “Some may have to reach the basement without us guiding them. If that happens, you being there will give reassurance.”

  He offered his hand and Eira took it automatically. Only then did she realize he was trembling slightly.

  Her chest tightened.

  “Dieter, please,” she said quietly. “I can help.”

  He shook his head. “I will be fine,” he replied. “I promise you, little sister.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We must be brave now.”

  With a soft exhale, he reached up and unslung his STG44 from his shoulder, holding it out to her.

  She blinked, startled.

  “What are you doing?”

  He smiled faintly.

  “It will suit you better in these tunnels.” He said before glancing over his shoulder at Emmett.

  “You said we must make another stop, ja? Will you have another weapon for me?”

  Emmett watched him for a second, jaw working as irritation flickered across his face. Then he nodded.

  “Sure.”

  Flat. Unenthusiastic.

  Dieter inclined his head, as if that settled the matter.

  “See? I will not be without a weapon. All will be well.”

  He held the storm rifle out for another second until Eira reluctantly took it, slinging her own rifle across her back. Dieter reached into his pouches and pulled free what magazines he had left, passing them to her one at a time. She accepted each, stuffing them into her pockets and tucking the last into her belt.

  She stood there holding the rifle at her side, staring at him.

  She stood there for a heartbeat, staring at him before stepping forward suddenly and wrapped her arm around his back, pulling him into a tight embrace.

  He returned it without hesitation, holding her close in the cold, echoing tunnel as water dripped somewhere in the darkness around them.

  “I love you, little sister,” Dieter said, patting her back once before slowly, reluctantly easing out of the embrace.

  Eira looked up at him with a forced smile that did little to hide the emotion threatening to surface beneath it.

  “I love you, Dieter. Please be safe,” she said, her voice almost pleading despite her attempt at composure.

  For a moment he simply studied her. Then the large hybrid gave a small grin and took a step backward until he stood beside Emmett.

  “I will be,” he promised. “But you must be as well.”

  Eira nodded.

  Dieter shifted aside, clearing the narrow path leading into the tunnel behind him. His eyes stayed locked on hers as she stepped forward. She let out a long breath and reached for the map Emmett had been holding. She snatched it from his hand without ceremony, fixing him with a long, blank stare that said everything she had no energy left to voice.

  Emmett did not react.

  Eira lowered her gaze to the map, studying it for several seconds. Her posture made it obvious she did not want to leave. Every part of her resisted it. But there was no time left to argue.

  “I will see you at the rendezvous,” she said firmly, the words carrying the weight of an order.

  Dieter nodded, watching her closely.

  He cleared his throat, then answered quietly, “Of course.”

  She looked at both of them for another moment, committing their silhouettes to memory, then let out a slow exhale and turned toward the tunnel ahead. Her light swept across damp brick and rusted piping as she moved forward, boots echoing softly while she pushed into the darkness.

  Dieter remained still.

  He reached up and slowly removed his helmet, holding it at his side as he watched her retreat. He did not look away until she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight completely.

  Only then did Emmett turn on his heel and start walking in the opposite direction, already moving before Dieter could follow.

  Dieter’s voice rose behind him, carrying clearly through the tunnels. It was flat, steady, and heavy with promise.

  “If anything happens to her, you have my word I will kill you.”

  Emmett stopped.

  For just a moment.

  He did not turn around.

  From Dieter’s position, it looked as though Emmett merely paused to consider the words before continuing on, his pace unchanged.

  Dieter did not see Emmett’s expression.

  He did not see the green eye narrow to a razor-thin slit.

  He did not see Emmett’s jaw tighten until the muscles stood out beneath scarred skin, or his hands curl slowly into shaking fists at his sides.

  Emmett resumed walking.

  His posture relaxed.

  His fury did not.

  Echoes of Shelling, a gritty WWI-style conflict that I highly recommend checking out. Go give it a read and let him know I sent you

  -SABLE