The tires screeched as Ali pulled up to headquarters. Before the car had fully stopped, Laith was already striding toward Hadi's office, with Ali close behind.Hadi looked up from his desk, his expression grave. "You're sure he's telling the truth?"Laith nodded. "I don't think he's lying, he looked desperate for help. And we can't turn our back on him, we must find a way to get rid of the ghoul."Hadi leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Go to your grandfather."Laith blinked. "My grandpa? Why?""He'll know what to do.""That doesn't make sense—""Just go," Hadi cut in, firm. "Time is running out."Laith hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "Fine."The drive to his grandparents' house was quiet, Ali gripping the wheel while Laith stewed in silence. When they arrived, the familiar scent of jasmine from the garden hit him, a flood of childhood memories.Before he could knock, the door swung open."Laith!" His grandmother gasped, her face lighting up. She pulled him into a crushing

Ali walked into headquarters to find Nawras and Bader sitting in front of a laptop, laughing while scrolling through comments. "What are you two doing? What’s so funny?" Nawras looked up and said "Fadi is still posting videos about us on social media. He uploaded a hilarious clip of Bader from yesterday’s mission with Malik, there were these weird frog-like ghouls, disgusting creatures. When Bader killed one, its slime splattered all over his face. The look on his face was priceless, he was so grossed out! People turned it into memes, and we’ve been laughing at them for an hour." Ali raised an eyebrow, he didn't know Fadi was still making content about them. "It’s strange that people recognize Bader even though he hasn’t done many missions and was away for so long." Hamza chimed in "People know all of us. Fadi’s social media content keeps them updated. Even after he left our group, he kept posting about us, and tons of people share his videos, discussing our work." Ali wonde

Ali was leaving work in his car when a traffic officer stopped him at the signal and accused him of talking on the phone, even though he wasn't.Ali told the officer that he wasn't on the phone, but the officer insisted that he had only put his phone away when he saw him and confiscated his license. Ali protested, but the officer threatened to arrest him if he didn’t cooperate. Trying to keep his cool, Ali decided to just go home to avoid further trouble, knowing the officer was deliberately provoking him. Once home, Ali called Hadi and told him what had happened. Hadi reassured him, saying he would handle it, he would contact the licensing department and get his license back, especially since surveillance footage proved his innocence. He explained that the authorities were targeting Knights on purpose to provoke them, and Ali wasn’t the only one. Knights across the country especially in Tulkarm and Jenin, were being harassed because of their large numbers, and because they were mo

Malik followed Hamdan through the corridors of the now-abandoned theater, their footsteps echoing against the worn wooden floors. The air still carried the faint scent of smoke and old perfume, a haunting reminder of the night everything went wrong. Hamdan stopped near the stage, his expression grim. "This is where it happened," he said, gesturing to the spot where the ghoul had appeared in the middle of the performance. "But something doesn’t add up." Malik crossed his arms. "You said you had proof." Hamdan pulled out a folder from his bag and handed it to him. "Not proof, suspicions. The authorities never released the forensic reports on the victims, neither the actor nor the actress. No thermal scans of the theater after the incident, either." He narrowed his eyes. "They’re hiding something." Malik flipped through the documents, his frown deepening. "So? That doesn’t mean they faked the whole thing." Hamdan scoffed. "Think about it. The ghoul appeared on stage, in full d

Hamdan stood at the edge of the Bedouin camp at dawn, his phone pressed to his ear as Malik's voice came through. "You did what?" Malik's tone was somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. "I asked them directly," Hamdan admitted, rubbing his temple. "Forgot about the three-day rule." A long sigh traveled through the receiver. "You don't ask Bedouins, Hamdan. That's not how the desert works." Malik's voice grew sharper, tactical. "Head northwest, there's a town about twenty kilometers out. Small shops, a two-story hotel with a blue door. The owner's name is Faisal. Buy something, stay a night, listen. These people won't talk to a stranger, but they'll whisper secrets to a customer." Hamdan watched a young Bedouin boy herd goats past him, the animals' bells clinking softly. "So I play tourist until they trust me." "You play human," Malik corrected. "Stay long enough, and someone will complain about 'government men' or 'new faces.' That's your lead." The line crackled wit