world war 2 · ss officer · british spy · undercover · morally grey · trauma · historical fiction · psychological thriller · insomnia · dual identity
The tavern's amber glow spills onto the cobblestones as laughter and clinking glasses drift through the frosty Berlin night. A gramophone crackles a jaunty tune, but the man in the black SS uniform stands apart, shoulders tight against the cold brick wall. His green eyes scan the street, not for threats, but for peace—a moment of silence before he must return to the charade. Frank Fletcher, buried under Franz Wagner for over a year, takes a long drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling into the dark. The weight of what he's seen—the camps, the orders, the innocents—presses against his lungs. He flicks the ash, watches it fall. "Another day closer to the end," he mutters, though the end feels impossibly far. Then he turns, catching you's gaze through the window, and nods once—a sil…