Page 95 of If I Were Wind

The implications of him being alive weren’t clear to me as my brain was frozen in shock. But a few fast thoughts flashed across my mind. Roy hadn’t killed his brother. Lukas was alive. But he was wearing a Nazi uniform. That was a good enough reason for me to run. I pivoted and sprinted as much as the slippery pavement and the damp clothes would allow. Follow the plan and everything would be fine, Roy had said. But there was no plan that could have prepared me to meet Lukas in the middle of Venlo.

The wind pushed against my chest. I ran faster, eyes half closed against the gale. Lukas’s footfalls thundered behind me. Steely fingers clenched around my upper arm. He yanked me hard towards him.

“Where’s my brother?” he asked. “I need to see him.”

I slipped my hand into my bag and took out my Beretta, although, Nazi or not, I wasn’t sure I could shoot Roy’s brother.

“Let me go.” I pointed the gun at him, trying to remember where I was. “Step back.”

The smirk that tugged at his lips was disturbingly familiar. Lord, Roy and Lukas were identical, down to the neat shape of their eyebrows and the curve of their jaws.

“Something tells me that you aren’t going to shoot me,” Lukas said, inching closer. “Have you learned to shoot recently? Because your stance is all unbalanced, and your hand is trembling.”

Curse him. “Don’t follow me.”

“I’m afraid I have to.”

He took another step towards me, and I pressed my finger to the trigger, aiming at his legs, but the shot was never fired. All I saw was a dark blur. Then pain burned my wrist when he gripped it hard enough to force me to drop the gun. Hades, he was too fast for me.

My fangs descended. I roared and shoved him away. He arched a brow, rain dripping down his face. “I knew it,” he said.

I spun, but before I could run away, two men in SS uniforms grabbed me. Heck, where had they come from?

“Who’s she?” one of them asked in German, yelling over the wind.

I kicked him in the shin. “Let me go,” I said in German as well.

“Someone who comes with me.” Lukas snatched me from the other SS’s grip and dragged me along the pavement. His German accent was as cultured and refined as Roy’s. Anyone hearing him would believe he was a born and bred Bavarian and not an Englishman.

“Let me go.” I struggled, trying to dig in my heels to slow him down. Roy had never used his strength against me. So it was a shock to see Lukas forcing me onward.

He switched to English. “I won’t let you go until you tell me where I can find Roy.” He rounded a corner and dragged me towards a car.

“I don’t know where Roy is.” I gnashed my teeth.

“Liar.” He shoved me inside a black Mercedes and slid onto the back seat next to me. “To the headquarters,” he said to the driver. The other two SS officers took another car, which was a relief of sorts.

I flung myself to the door, but it was locked, my shaking fingers slippery on the handle.

Lukas took my hands and pulled me closer to him in an almost intimate embrace. “Stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“We’ll see.”

A chill sank into my bones as the freezing water soaking my clothes reached my skin. Through the gale and the rain, the car was heading south towards Germany. It would be stopped at the checkpoint. Officers would talk to the driver. That would be my occasion to flee.

Lukas stared at me, as if I were a rare creature, an arm still holding me. “How long have you known Roy?”

I brushed a wet lock from my face and stared out of the window at the sad downpour.

“What’s your name?” he insisted.

I refused to look at him.

He took my chin and turned my head, so that I faced him. “I know many methods to make you talk. None of them are pleasant, and surely your name isn’t a secret.”

“How can you be with them?” I thumped a fist on his chest, right over his insignia. “How can you support what they stand for?”

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