The journey back to the hospital was made in a heavy, contemplative silence. Ayham and Shihab moved with a new urgency, the image of the flower seller's terror and Shareef's smug cruelty burned into their minds. They found Karam and Jalal in the recovery ward, the former practicing moving with his wrapped ribs, the latter looking stronger but still pale."If you feel better then we should go back." Shihab had said, his tone brooking no argument.Once they were back within the relative safety of their own hideout, the four of them, along with Jawad, gathered in the dimly lit command room. The hand-drawn map of the city was now joined by a crude sketch of the market plaza, hastily drawn by Ayham.Shihab recounted everything they had witnessed, the false negotiations, the calculated leading of the infected, the cold-blooded murder by proxy. He described Shareef and his lieutenants, naming the snake and his most venomous fangs: Saeed, Adham, Taymoor, and Sameer.A cold fury settled over

There was no cheering, no celebration. The mood was grim and heavy, the air thick with the coppery scent of Karam’s blood and the bitter taste of an incomplete victory. They had the gang leaders, trussed up and imprisoned in a fortified storage room, but the image of Karam being shot, and the subsequent escape of the young lookout, cast a long, dark shadow over their success.“Just drive,” Shihab had growled at Jawad, who was behind the wheel of their remaining jeep. In the back, Ayham and Jalal supported a pale and silent Karam, a makeshift bandage already soaked through with crimson on his shoulder.The hospital, which had become a grimly familiar sanctuary, received them with weary efficiency. The same exhausted doctor from before examined Karam under the flickering light of a battery-powered lamp.“The bullet went through,” she announced, her voice flat with professional detachment. “It missed the major artery, by a miracle. But it’s a nasty wound. There’s significant tissue damag

The silence Ayham stepped into was more unnerving than the fading roar of the horde. The street, so recently a churning river of death, was now a ghost town littered with the detritus of a fallen world. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic counter-rhythm to his ragged breathing. Every shadow in the doorways seemed to hold a lingering threat, every rustle of paper in the wind sounded like a dragging footstep.He moved like a phantom, sticking to the walls, his injured knee and hand throbbing with a sharp, insistent pain. The jump between the rooftops had been a desperate gamble. The surge of adrenaline as he’d sprinted and launched himself, the terrifying moment of weightlessness, and the brutal, joint-jarring impact on the adjacent roof—it had worked, but at a cost. His palms were scraped raw from breaking his fall, and his knee felt hot and swollen. But the children were close. He could feel it.He found the stairwell of their building and descended into darkness, the crowb

The world was a jumble of nauseating motion and blinding pain. Ayham drifted in and out of consciousness, aware only of the rough shoulder digging into his stomach and the agony that flared with every step his captor took. He was hauled like a sack of grain, then unceremoniously dumped onto a cold, concrete floor. The impact sent a fresh shockwave through his ribs and his injured knee, and he cried out, the sound weak and pathetic in the darkness.A heavy door slammed shut, followed by the definitive thud of a bolt being thrown. He was alone. He was sure of it this time. The room was pitch black, smelling of damp earth and mildew. He tried to shift, to find a more comfortable position, but every small movement hurt. He lay there, breathing in ragged gasps, the full weight of his failure settling upon him.A long time passed. An hour? A day? He had no way of knowing. Then, a sound. Not from inside the room, but from the other side of the door. A faint, hesitant scratching. Then, a tiny

The air in the Peace Seekers’ hideout was electric, Shihab stood before the map, his finger planted firmly on the auto garage on Commercial Street. The red dot in his mind was a beacon, a constant, pulsing reminder that his brother was within reach.“We will go tonight,” Shihab had said, his voice leaving no room for debate. “No more waiting.”The plan was simple, brutal, and relied on perfect timing. “Jawad, you’re our rock,” Shihab had directed. “You must find a perch opposite the main entrance. When I give the signal, you open fire. Not to kill everyone, but to make a hell of a noise. Draw every one of Qasim’s men to the front.”Jawad had simply nodded, already mentally calibrating the scope on his M4.“Jalal, you’re with him,” Shihab continued. “You'll provide close support, watch his back, and make sure no one flanks his position.”Jalal, his face still pale but his eyes sharp, had affirmed with a grim, “Understood.”“Karam, you’re with me,” Shihab said, turning to his friend, wh