The first light of dawn crept across the horizon, spilling pale gold over the rooftops and the winding river. Soufiane crouched at the edge of the warehouse roof, eyes fixed on the shimmering surface of the Rhône. Beyond it, the city stirred, merchants setting up stalls, cyclists weaving between carts, unaware that a small band of fugitives prepared to slip through their midst.
"Low visibility, but too many witnesses," Soufiane muttered, scanning the streets below. "We cross at the eastern bridge. It's old, half-rusted, but minimal patrols. Timing is everything."
Mourad adjusted his backpack, the chains and scars from his captivity still tender. "I never thought I'd be walking through a city like this… free, but hunted." His voice carried a mixture of disbelief and resolve.
"You're free," Soufiane said firmly. "That's the first step. Surviving the next steps is what counts." His knife rested in his palm, gleaming faintly as he traced its edge against the sunlight.
Amal joined him, eyes alert, her injured arm carefully supported. "And Ayoub?" she asked softly. "He could be anywhere behind us."
Soufiane's jaw tightened. "He's patient. Calculated. But we don't give him the chance to find us. The Rhine is our first line of defense. Once we cross, the forest and the terrain will favor us again."
Abderrazak's bulk blocked part of the early light as he scanned the bridge. "No civilians for at least fifty meters. Good. Less chance of being spotted. But it's narrow—one wrong step, and we're exposed."
Soufiane nodded, crouching low. "We move in pairs. Quick. Silent. No hesitation. First, Amal and Mourad. I cover them. Abderrazak follows last, pulling the rear. Any sign of Ayoub's men, and we scatter. Rendezvous on the far side."
The group slid down from the warehouse, shadows melting into shadows. Every step was measured, every sound calculated, until the bridge loomed ahead, rusted metal groaning softly in the morning wind. Soufiane took the lead, knife tight in hand, eyes scanning the riverbanks.
The crossing felt like walking a tightrope over a river of fire and steel. Below, the Rhône shimmered with the reflection of the city, peaceful and unaware. But above, the air carried tension thick enough to choke. Every plank, every bolt, every creak became a test of nerve.
Mourad moved cautiously, fear and adrenaline mingling in his chest. "I can't believe we're doing this," he whispered.
"You can," Soufiane replied, voice low and steady. "Because you have to."
Halfway across, a distant shout echoed from the eastern approach. Soufiane froze, hand pressing against Mourad's back. "Stay low. Move fast. Do not hesitate."
Adrenaline surged. The group's movements became synchronized, each step precise, each breath calculated. Behind them, a shadow flickered—too far to be clear, but enough to tighten fists and set hearts pounding. Ayoub's reach was long, but today, they were faster.
Finally, they reached the far side, scrambling onto the muddy embankment. Soufiane paused, scanning the bridge behind them. Nothing yet. Silence returned, heavy and fragile, like the calm before a storm.
"We keep moving," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Germany is next. And we'll find your sister, your son, and our footing. But every step from now… counts."
Mourad's eyes met his, gratitude mingled with determination. "I trust you," he said simply.
Soufiane's lips pressed into a thin line. "You'd better. Because if we falter, Ayoub Essouibrat will be waiting to remind us what survival really costs."
The forest ahead welcomed them with shadowed arms as they slipped into its edge, the Rhine behind them, and the long road to Germany stretching ahead. The hunt was far from over, but for now, they had survived the crossing.