"Hello sir," Mila greeted the General as she entered the meeting room for the daily security briefing. General Eichmann sat alone at the conference table, looking over that day's agenda as he always did before each meeting. He looked up, a mixture of surprise and confusion painted across his face as his eyes fell on her.

"My apologies Ms. Vanderwall," He said, standing to his feet. "But I'm afraid we won't be needing you this afternoon."

"Oh..." She blinked, letting go of the chair she was about to pull back from the table. Taking a step back, she looked up at him properly.

"I sent word to Mr. Muller ... I take it he didn't tell you," He stated matter-of-factly. He didn't seem angry, but his expression looked tense nonetheless.

"No sir," She shook her head.

"I'm sorry about the misunderstanding," He said, managing a sympathetic smile.

"Sir," She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Have ... Have I done something wro-," She was cut off by the sound of the door opening. Lieutenant Hoffmann entered the room, his eyes connecting with Mila's instantly, his lips curving into a smile at the sight of her. She looked away hastily, her gaze trained on the floor.

"I'll see you bright and early in the morning Ms. Vanderwall," General Eichmann said. His tone, though not dismissive, held a finality that signaled their conversation was over, at least for the time being.

"Of course sir," She nodded, not meeting his gaze. Swallowing down the dread and embarrassment she now felt, she headed for the door, doing her best to keep her expression cool and collected.

Taking a left down the hallway, she strode towards the bathroom, all but busting through the swinging door. Locking the stall door behind her, she sat down on the toilet seat, running a hand through her hair as she tried to calm the thoughts racing through her mind. Why had she been dismissed from the security briefings? Had they discovered who she truly was? Had Lucas or the other Resistance members given her up in exchange for a deal of some kind? It wasn't like the Third Reich to respond to a potential threat with caution ... They typically acted, and asked questions later. If they even remotely suspected her of colluding with the enemy, she would've already been gifted a bullet through the back of the head. Still, something wasn't right ... Maybe they did suspect her of something. Of what, she didn't know; But why else would they be keeping her away.

She stood up, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Putting it out of her mind, she unlocked the stall, retreating back down the hallway and sitting down at her desk. She would do her best to act normal and go about her afternoon as usual ... She would finish the agenda for in the morning and would go home. She was meeting Josef at seven for their dinner reservation, and would be able to get her answer then. Surely he would notice her absence from the meeting and would have already inquired as to why she had been excluded. She could count on him to tell her the truth, or at least count on her ability to discern if he was keeping something from her.

Mila glanced down at her watch. It was a quarter past seven, and she was still waiting at the back door of the War Office. She and Josef had agreed to meet there, the restaurant their reservation was at only a few blocks away, but he still hadn't emerged from the building. Pulling open the door, she walked inside, making her way down the long hallway that lead to Josef's office. Reaching his door, she knocked lightly before pushing it open. Josef was seated at his desk, bent over a stack of papers, his head propped up by a hand on either of his temples.

"Ahem," She cleared her throat. He looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion, as if he were surprised to see her standing in the doorway of his office.

"We were supposed to meet for dinner? At seven?" She replied questioningly.

"Damn it," He breathed, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, running an exasperated hand over his face. "I'm sorry ... I lost track of time."

"What's going on?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"The supply transports were ambushed last night," He replied with a sigh, the worn expression he already wore becoming more exaggerated.

"By who?" She asked, genuinely surprised. Though she knew perfectly who had carried out the ambush, Harvey and Catherine had neglected to give her any specifics as to when exactly the operation would be happening. She had suspected it would be soon, just not this soon.

"Brits..." He trailed off, downing the rest of the glass of Scotch sitting on his desk. "It's like they were just sitting there waiting ... They were on the trucks as soon as they got to the border."

"What did they do with the supplies?"

"Took what they could with them, and burned the rest I'm sure," He shrugged apathetically. "Those men were counting on those transports ... If there was any hope for them to survive the winter, that's gone now," He shook his head, reaching for the bottle of Scotch. Mila eyed the bottle as he poured himself another glass. The dark liquid that had nearly reached the top of the bottle earlier that week was all but gone now. He had had more than a rough evening by the look of things.

"Are there no other relief efforts being made?" She asked, half fishing for information, half hoping to find some sort of silver lining for him.

"Nothing substantial enough to count for anything. Berlin can barely keep up with the supply demand on the Western front ... Much less send rations to Stalingrad," He sighed, taking a long pull from his glass.

"Will they surrender then?"

"That request was denied a week ago," He shook his head dismissively.

"Denied?" She furrowed her brow in confusion. Why would Hitler decline a request for surrender? Surely he saw the writing on the wall.

"The Führer denied General Paulus' request for surrender," Josef replied, his tone a bit sharper, though she couldn't tell if it had been her question or the answer to it that had frustrated him.

"So Hitler would rather those men starve than admit defeat?" She asked, the question coming out harsh no matter how hard she'd tried to mask her disdain. The fact that a country could abandon its men for slaughter all in the name of honor disgusted her.

"I don't think you understand what surrendering would mean," He shook his head. "It wouldn't be like surrendering to the British, or the Americans ... Those men wouldn't be treated with dignity or respect, and they certainly wouldn't be sent to some cushy POW camp in Southampton," He continued on, his forehead creasing in frustration. "This fight's with the Soviets ... The same people who would rather burn down their cities than see us take them. This is personal. Why do you think they've fought tooth and nail for Stalingrad? Those men wouldn't make it out of the city. And those that weren't tortured and killed would be sent to some labor camp in the middle of a Siberian wasteland."

The fact that Josef considered the Soviets to be cruel seemed ironic to Mila - Especially when his own people were responsible for so much death and destruction themselves. She shook the thought away, bringing her gaze back to Josef. His eyes were red and irritated, probably from the amount of alcohol he had consumed; and the crease in his brow was deeper than when she'd first entered his office. Something else was bothering him.

"There's something else," She said, her own brow creasing in concern. She waited for his reply.

"They knew those transports would be there ... They were waiting for us," He shook his head. "You don't get that lucky. The only way they would've known the exact date, time, and location is if they got it directly from the source," He added, his last words hanging in the air.

"You think there's a spy?" Mila asked, taking extra care to keep her voice even, despite her stomach having twisted into a tight knot.

"That's the only explanation," Josef gave a shrug and an exasperated sigh. "Whether someone broke in and stole the information or is passing it from the inside, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Is that why I was kept out of today's meeting?" She asked, the question coming off a bit overzealous, despite her best efforts to sound casual.

"It wasn't just you," Josef shook his head, not seeming to notice the nervous expression she was trying to mask. "General Eichmann's under strict orders from Berlin to cut out anyone who's nonessential ... Including nonmilitary personnel," He added with a sympathetic smile. "To be honest, I wish you would've been there today," He added, his expression lightening slightly. "If I have to sit through another meeting with grown men talking over one another with no sense of direction I might go insane."

She smiled, the sinking feeling within her stomach dissipating slightly.

"Anyway, it looks like I'll be pulling some late nights at the office for the foreseeable future," Josef sighed, pushing himself away from the desk as he leaned back in his chair, motioning for her to come forward.

"Why's that?" She asked, leaving the doorway where she'd still been standing, the door closing behind her. Josef's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her down onto his lap. She placed an arm around his neck, leaning against his chest, giving him a brief peck on the lips.

"I've been given the job of finding the source of the leak," He said, bracing a hand against her knee. "And ensuring it doesn't happen again."

She swallowed as the pit of her stomach, once again, twisted itself into a tight knot. So Josef was in charge of finding the mole. She was seated in the lap of the man who had been tasked with discovering who she truly was ... The thought made her nauseous.

"I've been digging through case files all evening," Josef continued on, once again unaware of the strain present in her expression. She glanced at the stacks of folders splayed across his desktop, some dated as far back as the previous summer, before either of them had even arrived at the War Office.

"What are you looking for exactly?"

"Clues," He replied. "A specific name that keeps cropping up ... A similar occurrence that might've happened ... It could be anything really."

"Could it've been Dutch Resistance?" She asked, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye.

"They've certainly got a reputable amount of files to their name," He said, gesturing towards the stack on his desk. "But I don't think they're behind it. This was too organized. Resistance typically hits hard and fast, with not much thought put into their follow through. That's why the Brits don't like working with them ... Too much of a liability. It could blow up an entire operation if one of them were to become reckless and get themselves caught.

Mila thought back to her encounter with Lucas and the other Resistance members. They had all seemed emotionally charged at the War Office that night, Anton especially. And they certainly hadn't hesitated staging an attack with no backup. She couldn't blame them though. The thought of her sister being taken had haunted her own dreams too many times to count, and she was certain, if put in the same situation, she would do the exact same thing they had done, consequences be damned. Maybe that's why Harvey had been so fierce in his warnings ... Because he saw the same reckless fervor within her, that had sent Anton and the others to the grim fates that awaited them.

"As much as I'd like you to stay right here for the rest of the night, I really should get back to work," Josef said, giving her knee a light squeeze, pulling her back to reality.

"Right," She said, clearing her throat. Bracing her hand against his shoulder, she pushed herself to her feet. Grasping her hand before she would walk out of his reach, Josef stood up.

"I promise I'll make it up to you," He said, slipping an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

"How do you plan to do that?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

A small smirk twisted up the corners of his mouth. Leaning down, he kissed her, his lips leaving her's after a moment, brushing against her jawline, then her neck. His hot breath against her ear sent a chill down her spine.

"You'll see."