The alarm wasn’t supposed to go off yet. Sophie’s hands froze on the piano keys as the sharp wail cut through the club, drowning out the melody. A few dancers halted mid-swing, faces lifting toward the ceiling as if they could see the bombs hurtling down from the sky.

But it wasn’t the sound of the air raid siren that worried Sophie. She had already heard the wail of the sirens enough times not to be frightened by it. It had become a nightly ritual, the signal to seek shelter or run. No, this alarm came from the street, from the heavy boots pounding in the sidewalk toward them—too many to be ignored.

Her breath hitched, and she caught Ruth’s wide-eyed gaze across the room. The other girl’s dark curls bounced as she skidded to a stop beside Maria, who was still swaying to the fading echo of the last jazz beat. “It’s them,” Ruth whispered, her lips barely moving, voice threading through the air like a warning. “The Nazis.”

Sophie didn’t need to be told twice. She slammed the piano cover down and scrambled to her feet, scanning for the quickest escape. Hans, the club owner and their only real lifeline to the underground swing scene, was already at the door, locking out. “Out the back!” he barked, shoving a few stragglers toward the alley.

But even as she moved, Sophie knew something was wrong. A cold certainty curled in her stomach like ice. There was no time to run. They were surrounded.

She could hear Klaus’ voice even before she saw him, crisp and eager with that chilling, youthful excitement he wore so proudly when he hunted “degenerates.” Sophie flinched, her gaze darting to the window. His blond head appeared against the grimy glass, eyes scanning the room like a predator.

Hans hadn’t wanted this. He’d joined the Hitler Youth just like every other boy, had even said he felt sorry for “people like us.” But Klaus… Klaus was different. He seemed to thrive on it, reveling in the authority, in his father’s expectations, in the thrill of the chase. And tonight, his eyes locked on her.

“Now, now, don’t stop on my account,” he drawled, shoving open the door with a sharp kick. Dust billowed, and Sophie’s hand went to her mouth as he stepped through with a sneer. “Everyone having fun?”

A sick silence followed. The dancers, musicians, and spectators clutched each other, silent, breath held as if one sound would summon violence.

“Enough!” Ruth’s voice rang out, defiant and clear. Sophie’s pulse stuttered as Ruth stepped forward, eyes blazing. “This is just a dance club,” she said, her voice unwavering. “We’re not criminals.”

Klaus let out a short laugh, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “A dance club,” he repeated, looking to the uniformed boys flanking him. “They call it dancing.” He smirked. “Well, you’re right, Ruth. You’re not criminals. You’re filth.”

The words hit like a slap, and Sophie felt something snap inside her, a defiant fire rising in her chest. She wasn’t going to stand there and watch him tear apart the one place where she felt free, where all of them felt free. It was wrong.

Just as she took a breath to speak, another sound tore through the room—a hum, deep and strange, unlike anything she’d heard. Klaus turned, frowning, his hand dropping from his belt as if uncertain of what he was hearing.

Sophie turned too, her gaze drawn to a spot near the stage. Light, faint at first, began to glow, flickering like embers caught in a gust of wind. Her mind tried to make sense of it—a bomb? No, they would hear the whine of it falling. Gas? She didn’t smell anything.

The light grew stronger, a swirling warmth that filled the room and made the shadows dance. Klaus took a step back, and for a moment, he looked almost human—confused, hesitant, even afraid. Sophie felt it too, her own terror melting into awe. The light pulsed, rhythmic, hypnotic, pulling her forward.

She thought she heard someone shout her name, but it sounded far away, like an echo bouncing through a tunnel. All she could feel was that pull, her feet moving on their own, toward the strange glow.

Klaus reached out, grabbing her wrist as if he could stop her. His grip was tight, and she felt the sting of his fingers digging into her skin, but the light was stronger. It surged, enveloping them, and suddenly, Sophie felt weightless, as though she were falling—not down, but somewhere else.

The club dissolved around her, the dusty floor, the cracked windows, the terrified faces of her friends—all of it vanished into a blinding white. She wanted to scream, but the sound caught in her throat, locked there as though it didn’t belong in this place.

Then, silence. Just for a second. A heartbeat.

She landed hard, the impact sending a shock through her bones. Her knees buckled, and she hit the ground with a gasp. Cold cement pressed against her palms. She blinked, disoriented, her mind reeling as the light faded.

Slowly, Sophie looked up. She wasn’t in the club anymore. Around her loomed strange buildings—tall, sleek, glass and steel that gleamed under streetlights. Cars rumbled past, their engines sounding unlike anything she’d ever heard, like muted roars. She turned her head, trying to make sense of it.

“Ruth?” she whispered, her voice trembling. No answer.

But Klaus was there, sprawled on the pavement a few feet away, eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. The sneer had vanished, replaced by a mix of terror and disbelief. He looked at her, then back at the cityscape, his jaw slack. “Where…” he began, but the words trailed off.

Sophie’s heart pounded as she stood up, still clutching her wrist where he’d grabbed her, now a faint bruise. She could hear voices—a group of young people laughing, talking in strange accents, dressed in clothes that made no sense to her. A part of her wanted to run to them, ask them where they were, what had happened, but another part held back, too dazed and uncertain.

The others began to appear around them. Maria screamed, stumbling to her feet, eyes wide, Ruth pressed a hand to her mouth as she looked around in horror, and Hans clutched his head as though trying to wake up from a nightmare.

And Sophie realized, with a gut-wrenching clarity, that they weren’t in Hamburg anymore.