The first light of dawn crept through Berlin's narrow streets, casting long shadows across damp cobblestones. Soufiane's group moved with the quiet precision of ghosts, slipping through alleys and under abandoned archways. Every step was measured, every glance calculated. The safehouse was close, yet invisible to the untrained eye—a nondescript building tucked behind a row of shuttered apartments, its windows opaque, its entrances minimal.
Abderrazak crouched beside a doorway, hand resting on his crowbar. "No visible guards outside. Could be traps, cameras… or worse. Inside, we'll need eyes." His voice was low, carrying the tension of someone who knew one misstep could be fatal.
Soufiane studied the building, noting every ledge, every vantage point, every escape route. "We do this in shifts. Observation first. Recon second. Only when we understand their rhythm do we move in." His knife glinted faintly under the morning sun, a reminder that they were ready for anything.
Meriem adjusted the scope on her rifle, peering through the alley's shadows. "I can cover the perimeter. If anyone approaches, I'll see them first." Her voice was steady, but the tight line of her jaw betrayed her nervous energy.
Amal knelt beside Soufiane, spreading a small map on the wet pavement. "The back street runs clear for twenty meters. There's a fire escape on the northeast corner. If we need a quick exit, it's our fastest route." She traced the lines with a gloved finger. "But there's another exit—underground. A basement hatch opens onto the courtyard behind. Could be risky, but worth noting."
Soufiane nodded, absorbing every detail. "Good. Observation first. We don't know how many are inside, or if they've reinforced their defenses since the chatter we heard yesterday. We need patience."
Hours passed. Rain misted the city, washing the streets clean and cloaking their movements in grey haze. Soufiane rotated positions with Abderrazak, taking the lead on the alley vantage point, eyes never leaving the building. Every window, every door, every shadow was scrutinized.
Then, movement. A man stepped out of the side entrance, glancing around as if sensing something off. Soufiane froze, muscles coiled. The man was alone, casually patrolling, but his gait was purposeful, rehearsed. "Guard rotation," Soufiane whispered. "Two more will follow in five minutes. Count them, memorize their pattern. We strike only when we know it inside out."
Meriem's finger tightened on the trigger. "I can cover the roofline," she murmured. "No one gets past without me seeing them."
The next hour unfolded in meticulous observation. Guards appeared and disappeared with precise timing, the routine repeating like clockwork. Soufiane noted entrances, weak points, and the timing of the single security camera on the front corner. Each small detail sharpened the plan, each repetition confirming what they already suspected: this would not be an easy extraction.
Amal leaned close, whispering, "There's movement inside… I saw shadows near the windows. Someone's pacing."
Soufiane's dark eyes narrowed. "Patience. We don't make a move until the pattern is clear. One mistake, one second of impatience, and she could be lost again."
By mid-afternoon, they had the layout, the guards' rotation, and the escape routes memorized. Soufiane crouched in the shadow of the alley, pressing a hand to his lips as he exhaled. "Tomorrow night, we move. We go in silent. We get her out. And we leave no trace of our presence."
Abderrazak's eyes met his, filled with quiet determination. "She'll be safe. We'll bring her back."
Soufiane's gaze drifted over the building one last time. His sister, somewhere inside, waited. And with every heartbeat, he swore that nothing—neither rain, neither shadows, neither Ayoub's lurking influence—would stop him from bringing her home.
The sun dipped low, and the city's lights began to flicker awake. Soufiane's group melted back into the mist, ready to return at nightfall for the mission that would change everything. The clock was ticking, and Berlin held its breath, unaware of the storm about to descend.