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Christian. Christian lay on the floor, blood coming from somewhere or everywhere or—there.

His chest. His chest ! “Christian!” Her shout was nearly silent, from lack of breath more than thought.

She fell to her knees at his side, reaching clumsy hands for his wrist. His neck, when his wrist slipped from her shaking hands.

Did he have a pulse, or was that hers? Was he breathing? “Christian!”

No flutter of lashes. No lift of his chest. But yes, there, a pulse too slow to be hers. Biting back a keen, she fluttered a hand over his jaw, dropped it to his life-leaking chest, and then pushed herself to her feet.

He needed help, and he needed it now, and who was she supposed to call? A hospital—but then what? He’d been shot by his own men, and they’d left him there! Ackermann had ordered them to leave him there, to let him bleed out, to let him die. If he showed up in a hospital, his superior would know.

Her hand knocked the phone receiver off its cradle, then fumbled to grab it, raise it to her ear. She had to try three times to dial her uncle’s number and realized only when it rang that she’d used the wrong one. She’d dialed the secondary number first, she’d—

“Hello?”

“Oncle.” Her eyelids pressed tight. God must have guided her numb fingers to the right number. “My heel—it’s broken. I can’t walk. I’m hurt , Oncle, please. Please come and get me and hurry .”

“Where are you, mon chouchou ?” He must have heard the very real panic in her voice, because his was rushed, urgent, in a way she hadn’t heard it since he came bursting into their house in Pozières, saying Minette was still bleeding, it wouldn’t stop, and the baby wasn’t breathing...

She dragged in a breath. “At cousin Josef’s. I was picking up Felix. Hurry. ”

He had the address already—he’d deliberately shown up last week to meet Felix and become reacquainted with Josef and had demanded all such details.

Perhaps because he’d known. Or at the very least, always wanted to be prepared. Because, he always said, one never knew when everything would go sideways—so one always had to be prepared for anything. For everything.

“Good—I’m only five minutes away. I’ll be right there.”

She turned, letting the phone cord twist around her, and looked at Christian’s too-still legs. “I need a doctor.”

A pulse of silence, a low curse, and then the line went dead.

“Tante?”

Felix. She set the phone back in its cradle and rushed to the kitchen door, where he stood hesitantly on the threshold. Tears coursed down his right cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay there. I was afraid, I—”

“It’s all right.” She dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled him in. What was she supposed to do? Keep him from the sight of his bleeding father? Or let him have what could be a last moment with him, a last time touching him?

God!

She pulled back, certain she’d never stop trembling again. Met his unflinching gaze. “Vati is hurt—but he’s alive.” For now. “You can stay here in the kitchen or—”

He wrenched from her light grip and ran through the kitchen, into the living room.

He didn’t scream, but by the time she turned and followed, he’d already taken the place she’d been in, Christian’s big hand clutched in his arms. “It will be all right, Vati,” his little voice promised, trembling. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

The same words Christian had said over and over to him, when they were reunited in another of Josef’s living rooms.

Towels. She needed towels. Pressure on the wound. Stop the bleeding...or something. She grabbed whatever came to her hands on the kitchen shelves and dashed to Christian’s other side.

Ciel , he was white as the towels, and he didn’t so much as stir as she unbuttoned his jacket and pressed cloth to the bloodstained mess of his shirt.

“Hail Mary,” she forced from her lips, needing all the intercession she could get—and who better to understand the horror of watching a beloved man bleed and die?

“Full of grace.” She pressed harder, eyes burning.

Grace , she needed grace, and strength, and whatever other virtues God could spare her. “The Lord is with thee.”

Lord. Lord, be with him!

Felix sniffed, held his father’s hand to his chest. “Blessed art thou among women. Blessed is the fruit of thy womb—”

“Jesus,” she said with him, pushing the word out as a cry to heaven, an exhortation, the deepest cry of a still-beating heart. The turning point of every prayer—the hinge of every act of faith. “Holy Mary.”

“Mother of God.” Felix uncurled Christian’s fingers and rested them against his little cheek.

“Pray for us sinners.” She couldn’t push hard enough—how could anyone ever push hard enough to hold in life that was trying to escape?

She was just a woman. Chosen by no one but this man.

Not the mother of God the Son, not a chosen vessel of immortal grace, nothing but weakness and doubt and pride and failure.

Sinners, both she and Christian, trying to grope their way through a world gone dark, trying to find the Light through a valley of shadows and death.

Sinners who could do so little. Who could only try and fight and cling to the nail-pierced hand of a Savior who often felt so far away. When their enemies were so very close.

“Now.” Felix tilted his head down, burying it in his father’s palm.

Corinne choked on a sob. “And at the hour of our death.” Not yet, Lord. May it not be yet. Not for him. Please—please, Lord, save him. Mother Mary, pray for him. St. Michael, fight for him!

“Corinne!” Footsteps pounded—two sets.

She couldn’t look up, couldn’t tear her eyes from Christian’s still face. What if he died? What if this was the hour of his death? What would she do without him?

Hands pulled her away, gentle and unfamiliar and masculine. “There now, mademoiselle . Let me have a look.” A black bag bumped into her leg.

Doctor. Oncle Georges had brought a doctor. She blinked as her uncle crouched down beside Felix. His mouth was a firm, unyielding line as he took in who he was trying to save. “The sonderführer ?”

“My vati .” Felix didn’t move his gaze from his father. Tears streaked his voice as much as his cheek.

He didn’t see the way Georges jerked, how his eyes went wide, the way they flew to hers. “He is Felix’s father ?”

He could be angry with her for not telling him later—right now, they had to save him, if they could.

“His superior shot him—or one of the soldiers he brought, I don’t know.

I couldn’t see, we were just listening outside the door to the courtyard.

They’d found out who Josef is, somehow. They were trying to arrest him or—I don’t know.

I couldn’t hear it all. I don’t know if Christian just got in the way as he tried to talk him down, or if it was on purpose. But he—he told his men to leave him .”

Georges muttered another curse and scrubbed a hand over his face, through his hair. He stood. “They’ll come back though, after they think he should be dead. We can’t be here when they do.”

“We’re not leaving him!” She jumped to her feet too, fingers curling her palm.

They were wet. Hot. Sticky with the blood of her beloved.

Oncle Georges lifted his hands, palms out. “I meant we have to move him, Rinny. Doctor?”

Corinne spun, terrified that she’d see he’d stopped working already, that Christian was gone already.

But no—the doctor still bent over him, dabbing the wound, a hand probing his back.

Searching for an exit wound, perhaps? “I won’t know until I can examine him properly what damage has been done.

But the bullet exited his body—which could be a good thing, if it didn’t find his heart or any major vessels on the way through.

He’s still alive for now, at least. If we can stanch the bleeding, he may have a chance.

” He looked up, unfamiliar dark eyes gone darker with focus.

“My office will do for now—but he can’t stay there long.

The patrols come through too regularly, to make certain I’m not treating Jews. ”

“We’ll deal with the after, after. For now, let’s get him into the car and to your office.

” Oncle Georges bent down, scooped up Felix, and delivered him to Corinne’s arms with a reassuring murmur about getting his papa well again.

And then he sent a scathing look into her eyes.

“And after , Corinne—you’re going to tell me everything you haven’t. Are we clear?”

She could only hold Felix tight as he wrapped his legs around her waist and nod.