"And the foundation of what is eventually built in its stead will be solidified permanently with the blood of your friends. All of them. Every single one. Do you understand?"
The old man left without waiting for any answer, his protective entourage folding smoothly around him.
The caravan pulled away, disappearing into Paris traffic.
Gone as quickly and mysteriously as they'd appeared.
Ellsworth and I stood in the rain, digesting what we'd just heard.
Processing the explicit threat. The impossible ultimatum. The choice that wasn't really a choice.
After a long moment of heavy silence, Ellsworth spoke with perfect British dryness. "Well, that was rather theatrical, wasn't it? Chap does seem to enjoy his dramatic flair for the cinematic."
I couldn't help it.
I laughed.
Genuine laughter bubbling up in the middle of this nightmare.
"I think you and I are going to be great friends, Ellsworth," I said.
"Great friends indeed, Mr. Black," Ellsworth agreed with perfect understated British humor despite the deadly circumstances.
EPILOGUE
SABINE
Everyone kept saying things were back to normal.
But I knew normal was different now.
Before, normal was Maman coming and going with her suitcase, kissing the top of my head and promising she would be back soon. Before, normal was Papa making pancakes on Sundays and pretending not to notice when I colored on the kitchen table.
Before, there was no Tante Ella.
And there was definitely no Kane.
Now, when I thought about normal, it was bigger. Louder. Full of people talking in two languages at once and laughing too much and hugging all the time like they were afraid someone might disappear again if they didn’t hold on tight.
The grown-ups said it had only been a few weeks since everything happened.
For me, it felt like a whole lifetime.
I remembered pieces of the bad day like flashes. Rain. A man who smelled wrong and talked too loud. Tante Ella’s face going white. The loud cracks that made my ears hurt. Then being carried, pressed into someone warm and safe.
After, everything got softer.
Papa came for me, his face wet with tears even though he was smiling, hugging me so tight I couldn’t breathe. Tante Ella cried, too, and I didn’t like seeing her cry, so I hugged her and told her I was okay even though my tummy still felt funny.
Kane stood a little behind them, watching everything, like he always did. Like he was making sure nothing bad could come close again.
That night, when Papa took me home, I heard them talking in the hallway. Grown-up voices, quiet and serious. But Kane knelt in front of me before he left.
He looked different then. Tired. Like he’d run very far and only just stopped.
“You scared?” he asked gently.
I nodded.
