The northern district rose before them like a scar on the land—streets narrower, walls higher, and the shadows deeper. Sofiane led Mouna and Julien quietly, their footsteps muffled on broken cobblestones. Each corner seemed alive, each window a potential threat.
"They're expecting trouble," Julien whispered, scanning rooftops. "I can feel it."
Sofiane's jaw tightened. "Then we give them trouble on our terms, not theirs."
The smell of smoke and rot hung heavy. Abandoned carts and overturned tables littered the streets. Signs of struggle were everywhere: broken doors, splintered furniture, and scraps of clothing—remnants of lives torn apart. The shadows themselves seemed to whisper warnings.
As they approached the old municipal building—the rumored location where the boy was kept—a figure appeared in the doorway. A woman, tall, cautious, holding a rifle loosely but with practiced hands. Sofiane froze. His heart clenched. This was no enemy, but a guardian.
"Who's there?" the woman called. Her voice carried authority but a tinge of curiosity.
Sofiane stepped forward slowly, hands raised. "I'm Sofiane. I'm looking for a boy. Younes. You're… guarding him?"
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Who wants to know?"
"I'm his father," Sofiane said, voice firm but calm. "I've come to bring him home."
Her posture stiffened, suspicion etched into every line of her face. "You can't just take him. Not now. Not here."
Mouna stepped beside Sofiane. "We mean no harm. We'll leave if you refuse to cooperate, but we need to know he's safe."
The woman studied them, weighing the words, the expressions, the intent. Finally, her shoulders relaxed slightly. "I'm Cynthia. And yes, I've been keeping him safe."
Sofiane's eyes softened, a spark of relief mingled with caution. "Thank you," he said simply. "Can I… can I see him?"
Cynthia hesitated, glancing at the boy behind her. Younes looked up, eyes wide, as if sensing a presence he had longed for but never fully understood. Sofiane took a careful step forward, his gaze locked on his son.
The reunion was quiet, tentative, full of unsaid words and emotions restrained by the fear of danger. Mouna and Julien kept watch, aware that at any moment, threats could appear.
Cynthia finally spoke. "He's been alone for too long. I've kept him fed, protected, and hidden. But I can't do this forever."
Sofiane nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility and gratitude. "Then we'll take it from here. You've done more than enough. And I promise… we'll protect him."
In the shadows, distant movements caught their attention—signs that danger was not far behind. Sofiane knew the time for words was over. Plans needed action.
The northern district loomed as both sanctuary and trap. And as Sofiane held Younes close for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he understood that the journey to bring his son back safely had only just begun.