Late that night, dressed all in black, I quietly left my house and made my way to Maria's. I knocked gently on the door.
Anita, wearing a nightgown and wrapped in a colorful scarf, opened it. Her face was full of confusion.
She shut the door behind me, and I pulled her into the kitchen.
"Anita, I need your help."
"What's going on?" she asked, her expression suddenly tense.
"I want to rescue someone—a pregnant woman. She's being held in an abandoned wine cellar at the vineyard on the east side. You know the place, right?"
Anita thought for a moment before nodding. "I think I know where that is. But how did you find out there's a woman there?"
"Marco told me. A few of the older boys were out scavenging one night and heard a woman's voice coming from there—sometimes crying, sometimes s
