The rain fell in heavy sheets, masking the sounds of tires skidding on wet asphalt and hurried footsteps echoing through the narrow backstreets of the city. The night was thick with cold and uncertainty, the kind of night where every shadow could be an enemy and every whisper a warning. Inside a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts, Malick sat alone at a battered metal table, his eyes fixed on a cracked photograph in his hands the faded image of a younger Ali, smiling with a fierce innocence that seemed almost alien now.
His fingers trembled slightly as he traced the contours of Ali's face.
He had thought himself dead. He had wanted to be dead.
But fate, or perhaps something darker, had other plans.
The truth was that Malick had survived the chaos at the compound. Bloodied, broken, and left for dead, he had crawled into the desert's embrace and vanished beneath the unforgiving sun. He had escaped the Sheikh's wrath, but not unscathed : both body and soul bore wounds that refused to heal.
When Malick resurfaced weeks later, it was in the shadows a ghost no one expected to see again.
And now, as the rain hammered the roof, Malick was preparing to cross a line he had never imagined would exist for him.
A single knock echoed at the warehouse door.
Malick didn't flinch.
The door creaked open, revealing a tall man in a dark coat, face half-hidden beneath the brim of his hat.
"You're late," Malick said, voice low and rough.
The man stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "The Sheikh sends his regards. He wants to know if you're ready."
Malick smiled thinly, a flash of bitterness in his eyes. "Ready? To betray the only people who gave me hope? To throw away everything for a man who sees us as pawns?"
The visitor shrugged. "This is survival. Sometimes it demands sacrifices no one wants to make."
Malick's gaze hardened. "Then I guess survival is a bitter thing."
He stood and walked toward a table strewn with maps, photographs, and scraps of paper , fragments of a plan that had been in motion long before Ali had known it existed.
"The Sheikh's men are closing in on Ali and Sonia. Lina's files are spreading like wildfire. If they get caught, it all ends. The fire dies."
The man nodded. "So what's the play?"
Malick hesitated, swallowing hard.
"I have contacts inside their circle. People who still believe in the cause but believe it's lost."
He looked up. "I'm going to cut the line. I'm going to make sure Ali and Sonia don't get away. I'll deliver them to the Sheikh."
The visitor's eyes gleamed. "So you betray your own."
Malick's answer was a cold smile.
"Not my own. Just what's left of a dream that died in the desert."
Hours later, in a small, cluttered apartment across the city, Ali paced the floor restlessly. Sonia sat on a threadbare couch, her face pale but resolute, the satchel of evidence resting beside her like a talisman.
"We need a plan," Ali said. "The Sheikh's men won't stop until this is over."
Sonia looked up, exhaustion and hope battling in her eyes. "We can't run forever. We need allies , people who can help us bring the story to the world."
Ali nodded.
Suddenly, the door creaked.
Ali's heart jumped.
A shadow appeared in the doorway.
"Malick," Ali said, disbelief cutting through his voice.
Malick stepped inside, his face a mask of calm, but his eyes carried the weight of a man who had seen hell and returned changed.
"Ali," Malick said quietly. "We need to talk."
The tension in the room was electric.
Ali and Sonia exchanged wary glances.
Malick took a slow breath.
"I know what you're thinking," he began. "That I'm dead. That I abandoned you. That I betrayed you."
Ali's fists clenched. "You disappeared. We thought you were gone."
Malick's voice was steady, but haunted. "I had no choice. The Sheikh's men almost killed me. I barely survived. I've been fighting in the shadows."
Sonia's eyes narrowed. "Then why show up now? Why now, when the hunt is fiercest?"
Malick hesitated. "Because there's no other way. I have information , the Sheikh's next moves, his weaknesses. But I can only share it if you trust me."
Ali shook his head slowly. "Trust? You don't get to ask for that after disappearing."
Malick lowered his gaze. "I don't expect forgiveness. But if you want to stand a chance, you need me."
Over the next days, the three of them forged a fragile alliance.
Malick proved invaluable ; his insider knowledge allowed them to evade ambushes, anticipate attacks, and stay one step ahead.
But the deeper Ali looked into Malick's eyes, the more he sensed the cracks beneath the surface.
The man who had once been a friend was now a stranger walking a razor's edge between salvation and damnation.
One night, under the pale light of a waning moon, Ali confronted Malick.
"Are you really with us?" Ali asked, voice low.
Malick's reply was a whisper.
"I'm with whoever survives."
The Sheikh's forces closed in.
Gunfire erupted in the streets.
The air thickened with smoke and desperation.
In a desperate attempt to protect Sonia and Lina, Ali arranged for them to escape through a hidden route while he and Yusuf stayed behind to buy time.
But Malick's betrayal shattered everything.
When Ali, Yusuf, and Malick met at the rendezvous point, Malick was nowhere to be found.
Instead, a messenger arrived with grim news.
"They've captured Sonia and Lina," the man said. "Malick led them right to the Sheikh."
Ali's world shattered.
Betrayed by the one he had almost trusted.
Rage and heartbreak warred within him.
He vowed to save Sonia, no matter the cost.