I take her watch rotation like Jakub suggested.
Six hours on the perimeter, checking sight lines, watching for German movement, thinking too much about green eyes and exhausted smiles.
Jakub relieves me at midnight.
"She sleeping?"
"Like the dead."
"Good. She needs it." He settles into position, rifle ready. "You should sleep too."
"Not tired."
"Liar. But okay. Keep watch with me if you want."
We sit in comfortable silence, watching Warsaw burn in the distance.
The fires never stop anymore.
The city is dying the way a candle dies—slowly consuming itself until nothing's left but ash and darkness.
"You're falling for her," Jakub says eventually.
Not a question.
"I barely know her."
"War doesn't give you time to know people slowly. You feel what you feel, fast and hard, because tomorrow you might not feel anything." He lights a cigarette. "My wife, Ewa. I knew her three weeks before I asked her to marry me. Everyone said I was crazy. Maybe I was. But I loved her and she loved me and we didn't want to waste time pretending we didn't."
"How long have you been married?"
"Eleven years. Two children. Best decision I ever made." He exhales smoke. "Worst decision too, sometimes. Hard to love someone when war keeps trying to separate you. But I'd rather love her and fear losing her than never love her at all."
"What if Kasia doesn't feel the same way?"
"Then you'll know. And knowing is better than wondering." He looks at me. "But I think she does. I see how she looks at you when you're not watching. Same way you look at her."
"Which is?"
"Like maybe there's something worth surviving for besides revenge and duty."
---
Dawn comes grey and smoke-filled.
I'm checking equipment when the lookout calls down: "Movement! German patrol, two streets over!"
Everyone scrambles.
Positions taken. Weapons ready.
The patrol passes without incident—eight soldiers, moving cautiously through rubble, checking buildings.
They don't find us.
They keep moving.
Everyone relaxes slightly.
False alarm. For now.
Marek finds me after.
"I'm sending a team to scout German positions in the east. Need volunteers."
"I'll go."
"Figured you would. Take Kasia with you—she knows that sector better than anyone."
"She just got back. She needs rest."
"She's had eight hours. More than most of us get." He's not wrong. "Besides, you two work well together. Last raid proved that."
I want to argue.
Can't find a valid reason beyond "I don't want her in danger," which is both true and useless in a city where everyone's in danger constantly.
"Fine. When?"
"Thirty minutes. Stay out of sight. Observe only. We need intel, not a firefight."
---
Kasia is awake when I knock on the storage room door.
Sitting on the cot, braiding her hair, looking more human than last night.
"Marek's sending us to scout the eastern sector," I say.
"When?"
"Thirty minutes."
She nods, finishing her braid.
"Good. I was going crazy sitting still." She stands, checks her weapons. "Just observation?"
"That's the order."
"Orders change." She slings her rifle. "But we'll try to be boring."
We prep in the main basement.
Check equipment. Verify maps. Confirm rally points if we get separated.
Thompson catches me before we leave.
"Keep her safe."
"That's the plan."
"She's valuable. Not just as a courier. She keeps morale up. People need to see her surviving."
"I'll do my best."
"Good enough."
---
We leave at 0730, slipping out of the basement through a rear exit that emerges in what used to be a bakery basement.
The smell of old bread is long gone, replaced by smoke and dust and death.
Kasia leads.
She knows Warsaw's bones—every shortcut, every safe route, every building that's structurally sound enough to use for cover.
I follow, rifle ready, watching her back and our flanks simultaneously.
We don't talk. Don't need to.
The rhythm is automatic—move, check, move, check. Communication through hand signals and shared awareness.
The eastern sector is worse than where we've been.
More destruction, fewer intact buildings, bodies everywhere in various stages of decay.
The smell is overwhelming.
"Germans pushed hard here two days ago," Kasia whispers. "Broke through Polish defenses. This is what breakthrough looks like."
We navigate through rubble corridors and collapsed buildings, staying low, moving slow.
Twice we spot German patrols and freeze, waiting for them to pass.
Both times they do, oblivious to our presence.
Kasia finds an observation point on the fourth floor of a half-collapsed apartment building.
Good sight lines over the sector. Hidden from below.
Perfect.
We settle in.
She pulls out binoculars, starts scanning German positions, marking them on her map.
I watch the approaches, making sure we're not surprised.
"Three machine gun nests," she murmurs. "Concentrated here, here, and here. Armor support—two tanks, looks like. Infantry positions scattered between."
"Supply route?"
"There." She points. "They're using that street. Trucks every thirty minutes or so."
We watch for two hours, documenting everything.
German troop strength, patrol patterns, defensive positions.
Information that might help. Might buy time.
Might mean nothing at all.
The sky darkens.
Not night—storm clouds rolling in, heavy and grey.
"We should head back," I say. "Don't want to be caught out here in rain."
"Agreed."
We start back, retracing our route through the rubble maze.
The first drops fall as we're halfway home—cold, heavy, washing dust from the air and making everything slippery.
Then we hear the patrol.
German voices.
Close.
Too close.
Kasia grabs my arm, pulls me into a building—what's left of one.
Ground floor mostly intact, stairs collapsed, upper floors gone entirely.
We freeze. Listen.
The patrol is right outside.
Six soldiers, moving slowly, checking buildings. Thorough. Professional.
"In here," one says in German.
Kasia's grip on my arm tightens—she understands the language.
Footsteps at the entrance.
We back deeper into the building, weapons ready but knowing if they find us, shooting means death.
Six against two, no support, no backup.
A soldier appears in the doorway.
Silhouetted against grey light. Rifle raised. Scanning the interior.
I'm sighting on his chest.
Finger on trigger. First pressure already applied.
He looks right past us.
The darkness and rubble shadows save us. He sees nothing but ruins.
"Clear," he calls out.
The patrol moves on.
We don't move for five full minutes.
Don't even breathe hard.
Finally, Kasia releases my arm.
"That was close."
"Too close."
"Welcome to courier work." She checks the entrance. "Patrol's gone. We should move while we can."
But when we reach the door, the rain has intensified to a downpour.
Visibility maybe twenty meters. Thunder rolling across the city.
"Shit," Kasia says.
"Can we navigate in this?"
"We could. But we might walk into a patrol we don't see until too late." She looks around the ruined building. "Or we wait it out. Storm should pass in a few hours."
"You sure?"
"No. But I'm not sure about anything anymore." She moves deeper into the building, finding a corner that still has most of a ceiling. "Might as well be comfortable while we're trapped."