PLEASE NOTE: I do not give permission for any reproduction, re-imagination, or re-adaptation of this story in any way, shape, or form.

September 5th, 1943; Sunday 12:03 PM (Parc du Champ de Mars)

The rushing of the wind through Krista's braid waved hair carried her mind away with it, leaving emptiness behind. Her contact with Hans had been reduced to nonexistent for what felt like forever. She hadn't seen him, nor heard from him in just over a week. That rarely happened these days.

If he had been yanked from Paris, surely he would have at the very least said goodbye to her. She tried to block out his phone conversation and the way he snapped at her, but it just replayed. She could still see the anger in his eyes, burned into her brain.

An audible gasp leapt from her lips as an arm encircled her shoulders. "Hey there, pretty lady. How you doin'?"

She couldn't help but chuckle as she turned to her left to see Dieter standing by her side, with Jonas clinging to her on her right. "Hey, just the boys I was hoping to see today," she said with a mischievous grin as Jonas removed his arm from Krista and placed his hands in his pockets.

"Oh yeah?" Jonas asked, turning to Krista.

"Yeah," she said, smiling and looping her arms around each of their shoulders. "You know how to get to Hans's house, right?" She asked curiously, glancing between the two.

"Yes," Dieter answered with a sarcastic eye roll.

"Could you take me there?" she asked sweetly, resisting the urge to bat her eyelashes. "Pretty please?"

Dieter sighed, and Krista dropped her arms back down to her sides. "Alright," he began. "But you have to give me a kiss first." He tapped his cheek with his finger, and leaned his face closer to her.

Krista sighed quietly to herself before placing the gentlest peck she could on his cheek. When she stepped back, she noted the happy grin tugging Dieter's lips to his ears. "That's all you get," she said with a laugh.

"I'll take it," he said victoriously. "We're going to have to walk though."

Krista turned and gazed up at the Eiffel Tower, her eyes crisscrossing along the beams to its peak. "It's a forty minute drive though," she pointed out.

"I find it funny that you know how long it takes to get there, but you don't know howto get there," Jonas teased.

"Ha ha, very funny, I've never been there by myself," she retorted jokingly.

"I'll take you there," Dieter said with a soft laugh as he nudged Krista to walk with them. "I'll drive you there. I won't make you walk that far."

"Oh, thank God," she said with a laugh that matched Dieter's.

Jonas lifted his left sleeve, glancing down at the watch fastened to his wrist. "I'll see you two later. I'm going to propose to Ana tonight, and I want to pick the ring up before the jeweler closes."

"I think she's definitely going to say yes," Krista said confidently.

Dieter clapped a hand on Jonas's back. "Go get the ring. We'll catch up with you later. Good luck, my friend."

"Thank you!" Jonas said before breaking into a run ahead of them.

After the moment of awkwardness settled, Dieter spoke first. "So you really haven't heard from Hans in over a week?"

It seemed to even surprise him. "Yeah… I stopped at Le Cristal and got some stuff from the bakery and I was going to surprise him. But he was on the phone when I got there, and I don't think he wanted me to hear what he was talking about."

Dieter rolled his lips together and looked to the ground as they walked. He didn't have the heart to tell Krista that Himmler was the voice on the other end of the phone.

"He said, 'goddammit, what?' and just stared at me. I have no idea what I did wrong."

He scratched the back of his head and sighed. "If you tell Hans I told you this, he'll probably kill me… But the high command is tightening their grip on your relationship. Kaltenbrunner has Heinrich Himmler convinced that you're doing nothing but causing trouble."

Holy shit… that was a name she never expected to hear. "I'm really not though."

"I know," he said with a head nod. "To make things more complicated, he knows that you're American," he added hesitantly.

She slowed her pace before coming to a halt. Her hands covered her face as she let a sigh slip. She couldn't even begin to fathom how fucked she was now. She was just a blip on the high command's radar, but a blip nonetheless. "Am I being followed?" she asked, turning to him as her hands slid down her face. "And please be honest with me."

"No," he replied, rounding the corner onto Avenue de la Bourdonnais that angled slightly to the northwest. "But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't be careful. Himmler and Kaltenbrunner both have a lot of reach here in the city. I know it will be difficult for you, but try not to stir the pot, Krista. It'll make things worse."

"So what do I do?" she asked, her eye caught by a woman wearing a bright plaid dress with a short sleeve top beneath.

"First, don't tell anyone that I told you what I did. Second, just proceed like normal, and don't do anything to draw attention to yourself."

It would be a close to impossible task as a headlining act at a showgirls club, especially when her face was on flyers plastered at every lounge and bar within a two to three mile radius. "I think I can handle that."

Silence filled the air they breathed, and Krista chewed nervously at the inside of her lip. She'd kill for a smoke. "You know, you really have nothing to worry about. I can personally guarantee that you haven't done anything wrong. In fact, I don't think that Hans is physically capable of being upset with you. It's unbelievable how head over heels in love with you he is. You make him happy."

The sadness that tinted Dieter's tone in the mention of Hans's love for her would likely never cease to break her heart. He wanted what he couldn't have so badly, and he would never give up. He was just too sweet for her; she'd surely wind up crushing his heart into smithereens in the end.

"Yeah?" she asked hopefully. Feasibly, her reaction may not be justifiable after all; Maybe it really was just an overreaction.

"Oh, undoubtedly. He has a photo of you on his desk."

"Oh wow… I didn't even notice when I was there." Krista's vivid red lips curled upward into a lopsided smile. It was flattering to think that her photo being on his desk was more likely than not a distraction. She thought about his eyes being drawn to her and only her when they'd venture lazily up from his reports and paperwork.

"Sometimes I wish that I was the one that gets the privilege to say 'I love you'," he said in German, abruptly changing the subject.

God, he was killing her. "You deserve someone much better than me, Dieter," she told him with a laugh. "With eyes like those and a smile like that, come on! Trust me, when you get back home, there's going to be a girl that's going to think about you night and day. She's going to wish that she could spend every waking moment with you."

Why couldn't that girl just be Krista? "Do you think Germany will win the war?" he asked curiously.

She'd never considered the possibility of a conversation of this nature surfacing. The United States would invade Normandy in nine months' time, and would begin pushing toward Paris and preparing for the city's liberation. Germany didn't win the war.

She offered a simple shrug. "I don't know. I try not to read the papers."

"I don't blame you," he said, scratching at the back of his neck. "It's looking bleak for us, I'm afraid."

"Things can change. You never know," she tried, stopping beside him when they approached an intersection.

"I don't know. The Führer doesn't seem hopeful." He looked down both directions of the street before turning to Krista. "Wait here, I'll get the car and pick you up."

"Okay," Krista said, taking a few long strides to reach a lamp post. She leaned her back against the metal of the post and gazed out blankly at the passing cars and horse drawn wagons that cluttered the roadway. Getting attached to Hans was riskier than rolling around on a garage creeper with a ponytail, and she knew that from the beginning. She knew from the beginning that any relationship they formed would be burned to the ground whether she liked it or not.

She knew how this all shook out; The SS and the rest of Nazi Germany didn't fare well. Those of the high command that weren't captured and put on trial either fled to South America if they were able or simply took their own lives to evade being tried. Morbid, yes, but she couldn't help but wonder what Hans's fate would be. With his rank, she thought it safe to assume that his key to survival was living out the remainder of his life quietly in Argentina. He'd be intelligent enough to know exactly what connections he needed to use to get himself from the borders of Europe undetected.

1:36 PM (Paris Outskirts)

Patchy clouds painted in cool overcast grey moved in overhead, congesting the once pale blue sky. They didn't carry the promise of rain, just a drop in temperature. The breeze that flowed unrestrained through the tree branches that tangled together turned cool. It whisked through Hans's hair as he shielded his lighter's flame with his left hand. He held it to the end of his cigarette, giving it a light and shoving the lighter back into his pocket.

He turned his head to the rocky and rutted trail straight ahead at the disturbance of the relatively calm afternoon. "What the hell?" he muttered, standing up from the steps and making his way slowly down the path to the edge of the property. He folded his arms across his chest and just let his cigarette burn as a 200 Lang with tinted windows stopped at the very edge of the stone marked pathway.

His mood immediately shifted when a set of slender fingers curled around the top edge of the car's door. A flash of blonde hair came next, and finally the green eyes that held him captive from time to time. He watched as she tossed the strap to her messenger bag over her shoulder, and closed the passenger door with care. "Well this is a surprise," he said, managing a weak smile that she didn't match.

"I'm sure it is," she said, closing her hand around her bag's strap.

They held each other's eyes and stood there, unmoving as the breeze licked at their exposed bits of skin.

They stayed in their spots, separated by no more than eight feet and remained tight lipped for a long, drug out moment. His eyes fell to her lips as she slowly rolled them together before opening her mouth to speak.

"I thought you got transferred," she said, chewing on her cheek to ease her firing nerves.

He sighed, and closed the space between them and watching as her ride reversed away. He twisted the end of the cigarette on the sole of his boot to extinguish it, then tucked it securely behind his ear for a later occasion. "I didn't expect you to hear that conversation. I didn't want you to know, because I didn't want you to worry."

"I am worried. I've never seen you upset like that before."

He brought his hand gently to her cheek, half expecting her to duck away to avoid the touch. His thumb grazed over her cheek softly as he caught her eyes again. "I have no excuse for lashing at you," he admitted quietly but honestly. "I regret it," he said with a sad smile.

She kept her mouth closed out of respect to give him a chance to explain himself and shifted her weight on her feet slightly.

He dropped his eyes to the ground, almost out of embarrassment. "I couldn't bear to see the hurt in your eyes again."

Whether or not he intended for his words to come out as a confession, they did. "You missed my premiere," she added gloomily.

His eyes snapped back to hers, his eyebrows knitting in concern. "I'm so sorry…"

"I really thought you were gone," she said, bringing the inside of her top lip snugly between her teeth.

Hans tilted her head upward, and cracked a limp smile. "You're mad if you think that I could leave this city without you."

It's not like Himmler and Kaltenbrunner would allow that to happen, but it sure was nice to fantasize about.

Krista silently wrapped her arms around him and let her forehead fall to the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about Kaltenbrunner. I should have."

He sighed and cupped the back of her head, holding her to him. "I could have helped you," he offered.

She thought about the damning photograph of Kaltenbrunner and Ruby she had tucked away safely in her hotel room. She had an edge, but letting it come to light would be a risk with questionable reward. Her eyes closed as his fingertips massaged her scalp soothingly. "I don't know if you could though. He's number two in the SS, is he not?" When he didn't answer, she pulled her head back to catch his gaze. "Am I right?"

Hans remained quiet, and brought his palm to her cheek lovingly. "Well, yes. But I don't want you to worry about that."

She shook her head slowly side to side. "How can I not?"

He brought his left hand to her face gently to hold her still. "I want you to let me worry about that."

She shook her head again and brought her hands to his forearms, letting them rest there. There was no use in arguing with him; she wouldn't be victorious anyway. "If you say so."

"I do say so." Hans leaned forward slightly, allowing the tips of their noses to brush. "I just need you to trust me, and I will take care of it." He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss of brevity. "Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner doesn't technically have the authority to carry out anything that he's threatened you with," he assured before allowing another brief kiss to land on her softly pursed lips. "I'm not one to be toyed with… if he hurts you, I promise you I'll kill him," he said quietly, just a level above a whisper.

'Not if I do it first…' she thought viciously to herself. She wasn't one to be toyed with either.

When his lips landed atop hers again, she let him linger there. Her worry had abated to some degree, but it would never fully subside, she feared. He pulled away, rolling his lips together. He caught her eyes and locked his there. "I'll run with you if that's what it comes to."

September 10th, 1943; Friday (9:32 PM – Red's Showgirls)

"Nina! Eden!" Red called from across the floor to the bar.

Krista offered the young Gestapo officer a smile and gladly accepted the tip and drink. "Come see me tomorrow," she said, tossing a wink over her shoulder.

She raised the glass to her lips and rolled her eyes at her own dialogue. It was annoying, but it kept the clientele coming back.

Her heels clicked beneath her all the way down the VIP hall to the champagne lounge. It was at long last complete, and naturally, Krista would have the first customer. Her hand met the door handle, and she smiled to herself. She'd be getting a decent cut of the cost of the room even if she wasn't tipped additionally. She let herself in, and closed the door behind her.

The lights above were covered in a thin red material, bathing the room in dark red light. There wasn't much light, but she didn't need it. She strode over to the couch with the grin of a seductress. "I thought you didn't like this club," she said, placing her drink on the table beside the couch.

"I don't, but I like to watch you." Hans matched her expression, and raised his own drink to his lips.

"How long do you have me for?" she asked, her fingertips falling to his knees as she moved to stand between them.

"I'd like to say forever."

The honesty in his voice made her stomach somersault in place. "Forever's a long time, Hans… I think you'd get tired of me." Her fingertips trailed up his thighs before finally dropping her hands to his shoulders and settling straddled across his lap.

"I could never," he said with a pleased grin as she began slowly and teasingly rolling her hips into his.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she breathed, lowering her head closer to his as she put a slight arch in her lower back. "I'm a handful," she said, glancing to the pile of francs that sat beside Hans.

He chuckled softly. "That's what I was looking for," he replied lowly, his words dripping onto her lips.

She leaned back, her hands tracing down his chest. "Well lucky you," she said with a satisfied smile.

He watched disappointingly as she extricated herself from her lap and stepped up onto the stage. He took hold of his drink again, slowly sipping as he lost himself in the lines and waves of her flowing form. Her grace and poise were unmatched; watching her was like watching priceless artwork materialize before his eyes.

He knew all of these shapes she was forcing her body into had names, but he couldn't recall them, and he didn't care much. He only cared for how beautifully they were executed. She seemed so angelic floating around the pole with her long hair trailing behind her. It was still a struggle to wrap his mind around the fact that the woman on stage in front of him was his and his alone; he'd probably never get used to it.

Krista pulled herself up from a lay back and into a pole sit. She took a moment to catch her breath and let her head fall back as she traced her hand down her throat.

Hans trained his eyes on her, the world around fading away to the void. She knew what it took to capture his attention and hold it, and always started with the intentional grazes of her hands on her own body. He longed for the hand gliding over her skin to be his.

The cascade of bills tumbling down to the stage didn't register until she was inverted and slowly drawing herself into a – hopefully – clean Bird of Paradise. Hans had never seen it in person, and she was always anxious to pull it out of her repertoire and show it off.

The sweat.

She could feel herself begin to lose height, and tightened her grip to reduce the slip of her body down the pole. If her grip were to fail her, she would crumple down to the stage into a pile and make a fool of herself. She finally brought herself into her final position after releasing her hooked leg and extending into the tangled and twisted inverted split.

"Amazing, my love," he praised with a sated grin. He tossed what remained of the francs in his lap to the stage, watching as they fluttered down on her body like a calm snow.

Krista smiled to herself when she glanced down to the stage to see the bills cluttering her floor space. Thank god for another good night. She focused back on a slightly and graceful dismount. She racked her brain, trying the find a shape – any shape – that could slow her momentum, and make her descent possible.

She shifted her body, regripping her hands and saying a prayer that her grip would hold her. She popped out into a twisted grip Ayesha, then eased out into a very wobbly Iron X as the pole's spin slowed to a stop.

She gracefully dropped her feet down to the stage and pirouetted down to her knees, making sure to land facing him. The bills flew off the stage as she landed, like a plume of smoke floating into the air. Krista pressed up into a controlled handstand and held her balance before dramatically slamming herself onto the stage in a front split.

He clapped slowly for her, shaking his head in amazement with an entertained smile. She was like a classically trained ballerina on the pole.

When she swept her legs out of the split and over the edge of the stage, he pried himself from his comfortable position and placed a hand on her knee. "May I touch?" he asked politely, his eyes wandering along the smooth expanse of skin on her inner thigh.

Goosebumps prickled beneath his fingertips, and her back arched slightly. "I should tell you no, and watch you suffer," she purred, placing a finger beneath his chin to bring his eyes to hers.

"Would you make me wait?" he asked, his hand still drifting up her leg.

"I would," she said, dropping her hand to his and stopping him in his tracks.

"You can be so cruel," he murmured, giving her thigh a squeeze and leaning down toward her face.

"If I'm so cruel, why would you want to spend forever with me?" she asked breathily, the warmth of her breath teasing Hans's lips.

"Because I'm a glutton for punishment," he told her with a breathy chuckle. He hummed softly at the brief press of her lips, and immediately wanted more. "What are you doing to me, Krista?" he asked dreamily.

"I'm not doing anything. You just found what you wanted," she conceded, placing her hands on her shoulders to guide him far enough from the stage for her to slide down.

"Wanted doesn't even begin to cover it." She stood before him now, several inches taller than him with the boost of her Pleasers.

"Where do you think you'd be if you never met me?"

He sank back down into the couch and let her take the space beside him. Her legs crossed over his lap, and his arms fell loosely over them. "I would definitely not be as happy as I am now."

Truthfulness painted every word. "Do you love me?" she questioned pointlessly.

"More than you'll ever be able to fathom," he answered, looking up to the door once light from the hall flooded in through the crack.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but it's almost close," Red called from the doorway.

"Oh god, I didn't realize it was that late already." Krista scrambled up to her feet. "Let me go pay my tip out, and I'll come right back, okay?"

"I'll be waiting for you," he replied, scooping up his drink from the table it sat on and downed the rest.

"I really hate to do this to you, but I have some bad news." Red stopped at the end of the hallway, well out of earshot of any of the VIP rooms.

"Oh fuck, what now?" Krista asked with a note of frustration in her voice.

Red looked down to the floor and sighed loudly before looking back to Krista and rolling her eyes. "Kaltenbrunner's wife is looking for you."

His wife? "Lovely," she sneered. "Where is she?"

"I told her to wait in the locker room and I'd find you." Red turned to walk to the main floor but spun on her heel last second. "Oh. She didn't sound mad, though. If that's any consolation."

Krista shrugged and adjusted her top. "Thanks, Red."

Krista straightened her hair as she walked past the group of officers sharing drinks with three other dancers and slipped inside the locker room.

She cleared her throat and approached her usual seat at wall length vanity mirror where an unfamiliar blonde seated in her stool. "Mrs. Kaltenbrunner?" she asked politely, layering on a Germanic accent. When the woman turned around, Krista was surprised. She looked young; not much older than herself. It was so surprising to her that someone who looked to be teetering on the edge of thirty could be married to a man responsible for so much of the Final Solution, but she was in absolutely no place to judge.

"Eder," she corrected kindly, offering Krista both a hand and a polite smile. "Elisabeth."

"My sincerest apologies," Krista apologized, shaking her hand gently and bowing out of respect. She slipped the satin kimono like robe off of the counter and put it on to conceal her near nudity. "My manager mentioned you wanted to speak with me."

Elisabeth nodded, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She averted eye contact, turning her attention to the scuffs on the floor.

Krista pulled up a second stool and sat down, still confused but actively listening.

When Elisabeth lifted her head, her eyebrows were knitted together in the center of her forehead. Silent tears formed, wetting her eyes. "My husband…" she began, wiping away the lone tear that dripped down her cheek. She was distraught physically, but her voice lacked emotion. By no means was this woman an easy read. "I think he's having an affair…"

10:51 PM (The Saint James)

Krista trudged up the stairs with the promise of Hans being not far behind, and wasted no time in hiking to the top floor.

Her key slid into the lock too easily; it only did that when the door when it was recently unlocked. She took a step back from the door and delved her hand into the small pocket in her duffel bag. Her fingertips met the cool metal handle of a stiletto switchblade and she palmed it, tucking it out of sight within the long sleeve of her top. She adjust the blade in her hand, concealing it fully before casting a glance down both ends of the hallway to ensure she was alone.

The key twisted, the door unlocking easily. She was met with the warm incandescent glow of the lights in the room, and a towering figure with his back to her. "Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner," she said, sliding the blade from her sleeve and dropping it back into her bag undetected. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You neglected to check in with me tonight like I asked."

How could she have? She was too busy being dishonest with his wife. "I apologize, sir, but it's Friday night. It's the busiest night of the week, because your officers just got paid."

He eventually slowly turned, a recognizable string of glistening diamonds nestled in his hands. "That's no excuse," he said unfeelingly, tracing his thumb over the edge of one of the biggest stones.

"I don't mean to be rude, but could you put that back please?" she asked, crossing the room vigilantly to the bed where her bags landed, discarded.

"I've seen this before," he stated as if he were getting to a point.

"I wear it semi-frequently," she said, watching him closely.

He shook his head and snickered. "No, no. You're not the first woman this necklace has been given to."

Krista looked up from his hands, awaiting his eye contact and the continuation of what he was getting at. She had to admit though, her curiosity had certainly been piqued. "What do you mean?"

He wadded the necklace up into one hand and made his way to the corner of the bed where Krista stood. "Before you, Hans had Hélène. He swore up and down that she was going to be his wife someday." He looked down into the pool of precious gems in his hand longingly.

'Okay… And?' Krista thought to herself.

"But the problem with Hélène was that she became too… involved, we'll say. She began asking strange and specific questions that I cared very little for; I didn't trust her." Ernst picked the necklace up by the clasp, allowing it to dangle in front of Krista's face. "She disappeared one night, and she never came back." He dropped the necklace, triggering her reflexes to catch it before it clattered to the ground. "He sold everything he had to buy this for her. And he sold this," he said, gesturing to the necklace. "For payment for the house he is staying in and the car he is driving. Had it not been for that necklace, he would have neither."

Her eyes drifted down to the hefty stones in her palms and untangled it. If Hans was able to scrape together the funds for both a house outside of the city and a Mercedes Benz 770K, the monetary value of the jewels she held had to be out of this world. She shrugged, walking to her dressing table and laying the necklace flat on the surface. She turned to face him again, swallowing before she ripped the figurative Band Aid off. "Your wife came to me tonight," she said simply.

His eyes snapped to hers in a fraction of a second. "Whatever for?"

"She's concerned that you're having an affair," she replied, staying pinned under the weight of his aggression filled eyes.

"And you said what?" he probed hostilely as the blood coursing through his veins neared its boiling point. "I swear to you, Jäger… If-"

She rolled her eyes, because even she couldn't believe that she lied to Elisabeth and in a backhanded way, protected Ernst. "I told her I didn't know anything."

A brief expression of surprise touched his facial features. "Hm."

"However, I've been holding onto something for an occasion just like this." Near the door was a framed painting of a garden setting, or something similar with vibrant leaves of green, and blues and violets in the flowers throughout. The fingers of her right hand snuck between the wall and the painting, and she pulled the stashed photograph from the frame that had been very successfully hiding it.

The photo rested between her fingertips firmly, and she turned it so the back of it was facing her. His skin turned a violent red, and his nostrils flared furiously. She pulled it back when he made sly attempt to snatch it, but didn't lower it.

"I think I'll hold onto this, actually."

"Where the hell did you get that?" He stabbed his finger to the photo, his accent thickening with his rage.

"You have your connections, I have mine."

He shook his head. "If you have any value for your life, you'll give me that," he forced out through gritted teeth.

"I can't do that."

He drew his Luger from his holster and held it at his side. He was dying for a reason to wipe her from the face of the Earth. "I won't ask you again."

Hans was supposed to be just behind her, he was only having a smoke. Where the hell was he at? "Hey, hey, hey… Let's not get carried away here. You can put the gun down." She paused, locking eyes with him again as he lowered his weapon. "Cut me loose, and I'll burn it. Your wife will never know, nor will anyone else."

She had to be crazy to think something like that. "Do you really expect me to simply… 'let you go' with unfinished work?"

"Do you value your marriage?" she countered riskily.

He looked to the photograph in her hand, and said nothing.

"Do you have kids, Obergruppenführer?"

"Two."

"Not only would this break your wife's heart, but it would break theirs, too."

His temper was flaring again, and he couldn't hold it back. "You have absolutely no right to be involved in my personal relationships!"

"Likewise," she said, unblinking.

"Your relationship is nothing like mine! You shouldn't even be in this country," he snarled, his words full of volatility.

"Well… Your wife came to me looking for answers. So I'm involved now whether I like it or not."

His eyes shifted between Krista fiercely held her position, and the photographic proof of the affair his wife spoke of. "Fine. I will relieve you of your duties to me."

"I want it in writing."

"I don't think there's a need to be formal."

She turned the photo to herself and gave it a quick study. "This is the only leverage I have against you. I think this is a very delicate situation that is deserving of the formality."

"As you wish," he said, reluctantly throwing his hands up in defeat. "But I want you to know that you have far more potential to us than you realize. Hans goes on and on and on about your drive and ambition. If you channeled it, the SS could have used you… Really used you. You could have been so close to greatness."

The thought was as uninviting as it was unpalatable. "Well, I'm sorry that I can't be your protégé," she said sarcastically.

He shoved his pistol back into its leather holster and straightened his uniform. Wordlessly, he turned from her, and strode to the door. "Don't think for a second that we're finished here." His hand rested on the door handle, and he turned it before pulling the door toward himself to open it.

"I'm shaking," she retorted, ignoring the growl he left her with before slamming the door behind him.

He tugged at the hem of his tunic and began his journey down to the lobby, his anger still bubbling angrily inside him. His boots were heavy down the stairs the heels clicking loudly against the stone tile. When Ernst lifted his eyes from the floor, they landed on Hans who was wearing a delighted grin. Once their eyes locked, but he still proceeded to the exit.

As Hans approached his colleague, confusion swept over him. "What are you doing here?" he questioned sharply in German.

He pushed past Hans who had stopped, and was only a few strides from the front door. "You need to get rid of her."

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the interest in this story! I hope that you are enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

I did some somewhat thorough research on Ernst Kaltenbrunner, and he actually had five children but in 1943, he would have only had two. I also am going to give you a fair warning, the facts and timelines are going to be bent, but not entirely broken. This is a work of fiction after all.

And as always, thank you for reading and continuing to read!