Reyna Feldman, a twenty year old Jewish girl from the tiniest of villages in France, is on the run. Captured by German soldiers while trying to escape over the border, she's taken to an internment camp in Freiburg, Germany, where she meets SS Philli...
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Happy Friday!! This chapter is absurdly long and ya'll... it is U N H I N G E D. (For more reasons than one! lol) First and foremost... ***TRIGGER WARNING*** There is sexual content throughout so proceed with caution. I really really hope ya'll enjoy! This chapter has been a labor of love and has taken me a few weeks (on and off) to write! Let me know what ya'll think! :)
Rounding the banister of the staircase, Reyna zipped up the steps to the second floor of the house. It had been nearly two weeks since her fight with Luca, and so far she'd managed to avoid any awkward run-ins with him in the house - save for two. She couldn't chalk it all up to her evasion skills though, since she was sure he had been doing his best to avoid her as well.
It wasn't so much that she was still angry - she was - not nearly as furious as she'd been in the immediate days following their spat - but she was angry. Spat wasn't really the right word for it, she supposed. A spat didn't make friends go two weeks without speaking. A spat could've been settled then and there. This was more than that. Or maybe it was just the fact that too much time had passed now, and she didn't know how to break the ice - not that she should be the one to do that. It had been Luca who'd hurt her - not the other way round. So she'd been waiting on him to come to her. The more days that passed though, the more it became evident that he had no plans of reconciling with her.
She huffed a sigh as she climbed the last step. She'd think about all this later. Right now she wanted to see Phillip. He'd been gone all day ... something about inventory in the munitions factory that sat just off the camp grounds. Twisting the knob, she let herself into the study.
"Hey," She smiled, her eyes falling on Phillip, who sat at the desk in the farthest corner of the room. "What's wrong?" Her brow furrowed as she took in his state. His jaw was set, his mouth turned down into a thin frown. His elbows rested against the desk, a piece of paper fisted between his hands. He looked up, meeting her eyes. He looked pained, but quickly rearranged his features into a familiarly calm expression.
"Just reading the latest letter from my father," He shrugged, shaking his head.
"What does it say?" She asked. She'd closed the distance between them, her hand resting against his shoulder from where she stood behind him.
"Oh the usual..." He waved a dismissive hand. "Hello son. Hope you're doing well. Your mother and sister say hello. When are you going to wake up and realize that you're wasting your potential? You should put in for a transfer. You're such a disappointment. Etcetera ... etcetera."
"I'm sorry." She squeezed his shoulder.
"I'm used to it." He balled the letter up and tossed it into the waste basket beside the desk. "Every few months for the last two years he's sent the same one."
She squeezed again, and this time he placed a hand over the one she'd rested on his shoulder. The chair swiveled around as he peered up at her. She gave him a soft smile. The darkness that had been swirling in his eyes dissipated as he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap, his other hand resting against her knee. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in, their noses nearly touching. Her arms tightened around his neck as she was jolted sideways, the chair spinning back around to face the desk.
