The canal stretched ahead like a dark ribbon, water reflecting the faint glow of the moon. Sofiane moved silently, Younes slung in a makeshift harness across his chest. Cynthia followed closely, her eyes scanning every shadow, every movement. Mouna and Julien brought up the rear, keeping watch for any sign of pursuit.
The streets were quiet, too quiet. Sofiane's instincts tightened like a coil in his chest. "Something's off," he whispered. "Stay close. No mistakes."
A faint rustle came from an alley to their left. Julien froze, hand on the hilt of his knife. Sofiane motioned for everyone to halt. From the darkness, two figures emerged, crouched low and moving with deliberate caution. Their faces were hidden beneath tattered hoods, their eyes sharp and alert.
"Watchers," Sofiane murmured. "They've been following us."
Cynthia held her breath, gripping a small crowbar she carried. "Should we confront them?" she asked, her voice low but firm.
"No," Sofiane replied. "We don't know their numbers or intentions. Stealth first. Observation first."
The group shifted into the shadows, pressing close to the brick walls of abandoned buildings. Sofiane counted silently: four watchers, moving methodically, scanning doors and windows, checking corners, clearly looking for signs of Younes or their group.
Mouna whispered, "They're organized. Not random scavengers."
"Exactly," Sofiane said, eyes narrowing. "We're dealing with people who know the routes, the safehouses, the signals. We can't underestimate them."
The watchers stopped at a broken fence, speaking in hushed tones. Sofiane strained to hear, catching fragments of words: "He's with the child. Keep following. No mistakes."
"They know," Julien muttered. "They know about Younes."
Sofiane nodded grimly. "And that makes this mission even more dangerous. We'll need a diversion. Cynthia, you and Mouna create a false trail along the canal. I'll take the main group a few blocks east."
Cynthia and Mouna moved swiftly, leaving subtle signs of passage that mimicked their previous path. Sofiane led Julien and Younes along the alternate route, keeping low, watching for any sign of recognition from the watchers.
The night stretched on, each step tense, every sound amplified. But the plan worked. The watchers, distracted by the false trail, followed the wrong path, giving Sofiane's group a precious window of safety.
They paused on a small bridge overlooking the canal, catching their breath. Sofiane checked Younes, who stirred slightly, mumbling in sleep. "We're not safe yet," Sofiane said. "But that was our first test. If we can outmaneuver them tonight, we can outmaneuver anyone."
Julien exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders slowly. "They'll regroup," he said. "They always do. We have to keep moving."
Sofiane nodded. "Yes. Every step forward counts. And every decision matters. We protect Younes at all costs, and we reach the refuge. That's our priority."
The moon dipped lower, shadows stretching, and the city seemed to hold its breath. Sofiane's group moved again, silent and deliberate, weaving through alleys and side streets, aware that each passing minute carried danger—but also hope.