She could feel the fury inside of her surging hot and strong. She reminded herself to remain calm. “So what happens now, Joseph?”

“You tell me everything about what you’ve been doing here the past year. I know where you’re getting the papers, of course—and I’ve told the Germans all about the Algerian drops from the Allies—but how are your documents themselves so convincing? I’ve been trying to get the information from Gaudibert and Père Clément for months now, but they’re both too careful, too tight-lipped. Even under torture, Gaudibert wouldn’t give your secrets up! How are you and Rémy erasing information? How are you duplicating stamps so perfectly and so quickly, even when the Germans change their methods and their inks? What are the other networks you’re working with? Who are your contacts? The Germans need to know so that they can crack down on all the forgery bureaus like yours across France. If I bring that information to them, they’ll let me leave Aurignon, start a new life.”

“You’re a fool to believe they’ll keep that promise, Joseph. They’ll kill you.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know anything about it. So what’ll it be? Trust me, it will be easier if you give the information to me.”

“Why would I tell you a thing, you treacherous bastard?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll bring you to the Germans, and they’ll beat it out of you. They’ll torture you until you’re pleading for mercy, until you’re begging for a bullet to your brain. I’m an old friend, Eva. I would rather see you go in peace. Help me, and I’ll help you.”

“Like you helped Geneviève?”

Something flickered across Joseph’s face for an instant, something that looked almost like regret. Then as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. “I told you, she could have saved herself. I could have taken her with me. But she didn’t love me enough. She’s to blame.”

“She’s to blame?” Anger bubbled up within Eva, and before she could reconsider, she pulled the heavy Bible from the shelf behind her and flung it at him with all her might. He raised his hand to ward off the blow, but his surprise made him fire his weapon. The bullet tore through the air above Eva’s right shoulder, close enough that she could feel it pass. When Joseph straightened again, there was a small ribbon of blood above his right brow, and he was sneering. At least she had succeeded in wounding him, even if it was the last thing she’d do.

“Oh, Eva, you will regret that,” he growled.

She squared her shoulders and thought of her mother, of her father, of Rémy, of all that she had lost because of this war. “I have more regrets than you will ever know. But hurting you will never be one of them.”

He raised his gun again. “Tell me about the forgeries, Eva, or I’ll torture you myself. I’d relish the opportunity, you pathetic cow. You’ll give up your precious Rémy and everyone else.”

“I’d sooner die, Joseph.”

“Oh, you will die, Eva. It’s just a matter of how much it will hurt. If you don’t start talking, I’ll put a bullet here, in your leg. You’ll bleed to death slowly, and it will be excruciating. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ll pay for this, for everything you’ve done.” She spat at him.

His face darkened, fury burning in the eyes she had once thought were beautiful. “I don’t want to do this, Eva, but you’ve left me no choice. You have ten seconds to make up your mind—and I’m only giving you that time because of our long-standing friendship, you see—but if you’re still being this obstinate by the time I finish, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to pull the trigger. Understand? Ten, nine, eight…”

“Go to hell, Joseph.” As he counted down the seconds, she closed her eyes and began to pray—not to survive, for she knew there was no longer a chance of that.

“… seven, six, five…”

Instead, Eva prayed that she would have the strength and fortitude to breathe her last before she betrayed anyone. No one else could die because of her; she couldn’t bear it.

“… four, three, two…” As Joseph reached the end of his countdown, Eva braced herself for the horrific pain she knew would come, the agony that would be only the beginning.

When the shot went off, it sounded like an explosion. It reverberated in the room, and her ears rang with the force of it. It took her a split second to realize, though, that she felt nothing. Had he missed? Her eyes flew open, and her jaw fell.

There on the ground before her lay Joseph on his belly, his head twisted to the side, his eyes open and unseeing, his mouth agape, an oozing bullet wound in the back of his head.

Above him, smoke still drifting from the pistol in his hand, stood Erich, in full Nazi uniform, his eyes on Eva. “You must go, Eva,” he said. “Go now. They’re coming for you.”

She began to tremble as she stared at him in shock and disbelief. “How…?”

“Joseph betrayed me, too. My superiors know I was helping the underground. A friend told me, and I slipped away before they could arrest me. I came here to warn Père Clément. I couldn’t find him, but I heard Joseph’s voice, and then a moment ago, the gunshot.”

“You saved me.”

He smiled sadly. “At least I have done one thing I can feel good about when I meet my maker.”

“What do you mean, Erich? Come with me, quickly. We can run together.”

“It’s too late for me. Not for you. Go, Eva. Run for your life. Don’t worry, I’ll distract them for a few minutes, at least. It’s the only chance you’ll have.”

“Erich—”

“Before I came to Père Clément to confess, there were things I did, Eva, things that can never be forgiven. I have come to terms with what eternity will hold for me. Knowing my last act was to save you, though, would give me some peace in the end. Please, let my life be worth at least that.”

Suddenly, she understood what he was saying. “Erich, no!” She reached for him, but he backed away, shaking his head.

There were voices outside the church then, raised voices, barking orders in German. “Live a good life, Eva,” Erich whispered, and then, without hesitation, he closed his eyes, put the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Eva stifled a scream as he fell to the floor, but in an instant, she understood what she had to do. Erich had created chaos that would allow her to escape. And so just before the Nazis entered the church, she dashed out of the secret library and dove beneath a pew, holding her breath as a dozen black boots stormed past her toward the bodies of Erich and Joseph. She waited until they were all inside the little room, exclaiming to each other in disbelief, before wriggling out and making her way quickly and silently toward the back door of the church. She glanced at Jesus on the altar once more and said a quick prayer for Erich’s soul before hurrying out into the icy night.

And then, just as Erich had urged her to do, she moved into the darkness, running for her life.

Chapter Thirty

Sixteen months later June 1945

The light on the Boulevard Raspail in Paris was fading on a warm June afternoon as Eva made her way for what felt like the hundredth time to the H?tel Lutetia, the soaring, snow-white art nouveau masterpiece in Saint-Germain-des-Prés that had once been a haven for writers and artists. The war had turned it into something different, a headquarters for the spies and torture specialists of the German Abwehr, but Paris had been freed ten months earlier, and in April, the grand hotel had taken on yet another new life as a repatriation center for refugees from the German concentration camps.

Eva had made it back to Paris from Switzerland in the fall of 1944, two months after the liberation of the city, and she had wandered the streets, hoping to meet someone she’d known in her previous life, someone who could tell her what had become of her father. But there was no one. Nothing. A family of French strangers was living in her old apartment, and none of her old neighbors had remained. She began going to the Mazarine Library each day to wait on its steps in hopes that Rémy would come for her, but as the days passed and the months grew colder, she began to admit to herself that he likely hadn’t survived the war. Almost no one had.