The city stretched before them like a living maze, neon and fog bleeding together under the heavy autumn sky. Soufiane led the group through narrow backstreets, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the damp cobblestones. Each corner, each alley was a calculated risk, but they had no choice: they were deep in German territory now, and every moment counted.
Mourad moved beside him, eyes scanning constantly. The recent escape in France still left a raw edge in his voice. "I never thought I'd see Berlin like this," he murmured, voice tight. "Cold, empty, and… dangerous."
Soufiane didn't respond immediately. His mind was already running through the next steps: contacts, safe houses, routes to his sister, and the inevitable obstacles in between. Every instinct screamed caution, but he knew hesitation could cost them everything. "Stay focused," he said finally, voice low. "We move fast, and we move smart. No mistakes."
Amal and Meriem followed close, each alert to the slightest sound: a distant siren, the hum of a car engine, shadows that didn't belong. Amal's arm, still tender from previous encounters, slowed her slightly, but she refused to show weakness. Every movement was deliberate, measured, as if the city itself could detect hesitation and strike.
They reached the first checkpoint: a small, abandoned café that had been converted into a temporary safe house by one of Soufiane's contacts. Inside, the space smelled of stale coffee and dust, but it was secure enough to plan their next move. Soufiane dropped the bag with essentials and immediately spread a map across the table, tracing routes with a finger.
"We need information," he said, scanning the lines of streets and alleys. "The sister… the children… someone must know where they are. And we cannot rely on luck alone."
Abderrazak leaned over, his bulk filling half the space, arms crossed. "There are people we can trust here. Former contacts from the networks we crossed in France. They won't betray us… if we handle this carefully."
Soufiane's eyes narrowed. "Careful, yes. But decisive. No second chances. Not for them, not for us. Ayoub's reach is still long, and he's patient. He'll be watching."
Amal's fingers brushed the map as she pointed to a district known for underground networks. "This area," she said quietly. "There are safe points. We can start inquiries here. Discreetly. If anyone has seen your sister or her children, this is where the information will surface first."
Mourad's voice wavered with the weight of memory. "And the Netherlands? We can't forget my nephew. If we find my sister, we also need to know about him. Ayoub… he's unpredictable. We can't leave him any room to move."
Soufiane nodded sharply, pressing his hand against the map. "It's all connected. Berlin first. Then the clues will lead us north. We cannot split the group yet. Any division now… and we lose more than time. We lose control."
The group fell silent, absorbing the gravity of the plan. Every heartbeat in that small café seemed amplified, reminding them of the fragile line between survival and disaster. Soufiane finally looked up, his dark eyes scanning each member. "We start at first light. We gather intelligence, identify threats, and move forward. By nightfall, we need to know who's hiding what, and where my sister might be."
Meriem's voice was steady, though tinged with fear. "And Ayoub? He won't stop. He'll follow us here eventually."
"Let him come," Soufiane said, cold and precise. "We are no longer running. We are hunting the answers. And if he crosses our path, we will be ready. Alive, and stronger than he expects."
Outside, Berlin exhaled into the fog, unaware of the small group planning in shadows. Soufiane's mind raced, already plotting routes, contingencies, and traps. The city was a chessboard, each move critical, each second precious.
The night pressed in around them, but inside the small café, the group's resolve hardened. Tomorrow, the hunt for answers would begin. Tomorrow, Berlin would reveal its secrets—or swallow them whole.
Soufiane clenched his fists, feeling the pulse of urgency. "We find them," he whispered. "No matter the cost."
And for the first time since the escape from France, the group allowed themselves a flicker of hope: the hunt had begun, and the future, though uncertain, was theirs to seize.