The streets twisted like a labyrinth, narrow alleys splitting and merging in ways that disoriented even Julien, who had lived in cities far longer than Sofiane. Each turn held shadows that could conceal danger, and every footstep echoed with the possibility of being heard.
Sofiane carried Younes close, careful to keep the boy's head low and his own movements deliberate. Mouna scouted ahead, eyes sharp, while Julien stayed just behind, scanning rooftops and windows for signs of movement.
"They're watching," Julien muttered, pausing at a corner. "I can feel it. Someone's following us."
Sofiane didn't speak immediately. He trusted Julien's instincts—they had saved his life more than once already. Instead, he slowed his pace, listening, feeling the rhythm of the city's pulse, the subtle disturbances in the shadows.
A sudden clatter echoed from a nearby side street. Sofiane froze, signaling Mouna and Julien with a hand gesture. A group of three figures emerged, moving quickly but deliberately, clearly intent on intercepting them. Weapons glinted in the dim light.
"Stay close," Sofiane whispered to Younes, his eyes narrowing with controlled fury.
Mouna drew her sidearm, stepping in front of the group. "We don't want trouble," she called, her voice steady. "We're just passing through."
The lead figure sneered, stepping forward. "Passing through? Not in my district. Hand over the boy, or it's going to get messy."
Sofiane's hand brushed the knife at his belt. "He's my son. You don't get to touch him."
A tense standoff unfolded in the alley, shadows stretching long under flickering streetlights. Mouna and Julien flanked Sofiane, ready for action. Sofiane's mind raced, calculating their chances, planning escape routes, and anticipating attacks.
Without warning, one of the figures lunged forward. Sofiane sidestepped, slashing with precise force that barely grazed the attacker but sent him stumbling into a stack of crates. Mouna fired a warning shot that shattered a nearby lamp, throwing the alley into partial darkness. Julien tackled the second attacker, his strength overwhelming the assailant long enough for Sofiane to react.
In the chaos, Younes clung tightly to his father, eyes wide but trusting. Sofiane felt a surge of protectiveness unlike anything before. This was more than survival; it was a battle to keep his son alive, to hold on to what little remained of normalcy.
Within moments, the attackers realized they were outmatched and retreated into the twisting maze of streets, disappearing like shadows themselves. Sofiane exhaled slowly, the tension still thick in his chest.
"We need to move," Sofiane said, voice low. "This district isn't safe for long. Cynthia… can she guide us to somewhere safer?"
Cynthia, who had been silent until now, nodded. "There's an abandoned warehouse near the canal. It's hidden, and I know a few escape routes. But we have to move fast."
As they navigated deeper into the alleys, Sofiane felt the first glimmer of hope since arriving in the Netherlands. They had survived the first encounter, and though the road ahead promised more danger, he had Younes in his arms and allies he could trust. That was enough to keep moving forward.