The Glovemaker's Daughter: Completely heartbreaking and gripping World War Two fiction by Shari J. Ryan

Author:Shari J. Ryan [Ryan, Shari J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837906819
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

My heart has been racing for the last two hours, depleting me of the energy I desperately need to get through this night. I’m sweating through my dark clothes and my hands aren’t steady with an assault rifle locked between my fingers.

Each quiet, dark road seems twice as long as it was, and my thoughts have been on nothing other than a German soldier or the police turning a corner and finding us trying to blend in with the opaque shadows of each building. We can hardly see where we’re stepping, when a curb ends, or if there’s something to trip over.

I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I wanted to join the resistance because being complacent isn’t an option, but fighting—combat—this isn’t what I had mind. After Father died, Mère made me promise her I would never enlist in the army. I gave her my word. She told me he would not have wanted that life for me and she couldn’t lose another loved one to acts of war. However, I feel as though Father would have handed me a rifle today then sent me on my way, telling me to take out as many enemies as possible. He fought to prevent the Germans capturing French territory. He always said this wasn’t over, but I thought it was just his anger speaking. We can’t let them win. This is what Father would be doing.

Raya’s breaths are ragged and heavy behind me. I wonder if she is doing this for my sake or, if not, what else could be motivating her to take action at this level. The darkness brewing within her is sudden and fierce, and I don’t understand where it came from, but I’ve learned well enough that when she sets her mind to something, nothing and no one can get in the way.

“Where are we stopping?” Raya whispers over my shoulder.

“One more block up ahead at the Myron T. Herrick statue.”

The silence finds the rubble and small twigs crunching and snapping beneath our feet. I scan both sides of the street and up through the center of the buildings we’re between. I don’t want to miss a lurking set of eyes watching us. I can’t see too far up the building with how dark it is, but the feeling of being watched like mice running toward a trap gnaws at my stomach.

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