It didn’t matter if she died. This would be her last mission. Karin collapsed on her bed and examined her feet, they were black and blue, and her toes were swollen. Last month at the Paris opera had been excruciating. Demanding rehearsals and performances every evening. She didn’t love dancing anymore. Not when the war raged all around her. Disgusted by the Vichy regime, Karin hated when Serge made them perform to German soldiers. He didn’t have a choice, but she wanted him to resist. She grabbed the fake passport she’d been hiding all week. They always ended after curfew and risked getting jailed. Karin had to be careful if she wanted to see him again. He was everything to her.