The salty night air bit at Haqim's skin as he and Idris trudged through the back alleys of Krafta. The chaos at the docks was behind them, but in Haqim's mind, everything still whirled in a storm of confusion. The Wolf's words gnawed at him like a persistent echo: "Your friend Idris... let's just say he's been very helpful."
Idris, the man he barely knew. Haqim clenched his fists as he moved silently beside him. They had worked together for only a few weeks now—ever since Farah had introduced them. At first, Haqim had been suspicious, and rightly so. Idris had appeared out of nowhere, claiming to have ties to Farah's network, insisting he was a crucial asset. Haqim had no choice but to accept him when Farah vouched for him. But now, after the Wolf's revelation, every step he took alongside Idris felt heavier with doubt.
As they neared the safe house, Haqim's mind raced with questions. Could Idris have been playing him all along? Was Farah wrong about him? Or worse—was Farah in on it too?
They reached the safehouse and slipped inside. Farah was already there, sitting at the table, her eyes sharp as they entered. The tension in the room was palpable. Haqim noticed the subtle way her hand lingered near the holster at her side, her instincts just as sharp as his.
"You're back," she said, her eyes flickering toward Idris before settling on Haqim. "What happened?"
Haqim stayed silent for a moment, observing the subtle shifts in both their expressions. His mind was calculating, weighing possibilities. Finally, he spoke.
"It was a trap," Haqim said, his voice cool. "The Wolf knew we were coming. And he knew... about Idris."
Farah's brow furrowed as she glanced at Idris, who stood stiffly by the door, arms crossed. "What do you mean?"
"He said Idris had been 'helpful' to Faizan," Haqim replied, the accusation heavy in the air.
Farah's eyes narrowed, a mix of surprise and anger flashing across her face. "That's impossible. Idris has been loyal. He's—"
"—a stranger to me," Haqim cut in sharply, his gaze fixed on Idris. "I didn't know him before you introduced us. And now the Wolf knows his name? That's not a coincidence."
Idris stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "I don't know what game the Wolf is playing, but I'm not working for Faizan. You have to believe me, Haqim. I've risked my life for this mission."
Haqim's eyes narrowed, taking in every nuance of Idris's posture and words. "You say that, but the timing... everything about this feels wrong. The Wolf's not stupid. He wouldn't throw out a lie unless he knew it would tear us apart. And right now, it's working."
"Look," Idris said, stepping forward, "I don't know why the Wolf said my name, but I swear to you—I've been working against Faizan. I was with Farah long before I even met you. She'll vouch for me."
Haqim turned his gaze to Farah. "And you trust him?" His tone was sharp, questioning. He needed to hear her answer again.
Farah didn't flinch. "Yes. Idris has been loyal. I've seen him fight, bleed, and sacrifice for this cause. The Wolf is just trying to divide us, Haqim."
Haqim paced for a moment, running a hand through his wet hair. "I want to believe that," he muttered. "But right now, I can't ignore the possibility that there's a mole feeding information to Faizan. If it's not Idris... then who is it?"
The room fell into a tense silence. The weight of Haqim's question lingered in the air. Farah crossed her arms, looking frustrated. "There's no proof," she said. "We can't just start pointing fingers without solid evidence."
"The evidence," Haqim said, stepping closer to her, his voice lowering, "is that every time we make a move, Faizan's one step ahead. And tonight, the Wolf's trap nearly got us both killed."
Idris's face hardened, and he clenched his fists at his side. "So what's your plan, Haqim? Tie me up? Torture me for answers? I've been nothing but loyal to this mission."
Haqim stared at Idris for a long moment. "Maybe that's true. But until I know for sure, I can't trust anyone fully. Not even you."
Farah stepped forward, her voice firm. "We need to stick together now more than ever. The Wolf and Faizan want us divided. Don't give them that victory."
Haqim hesitated, then let out a frustrated breath. "Fine. For now, we continue. But keep in mind—I'll be watching both of you. Closely."
The tension in the room remained thick, but for the moment, the conversation was over. Haqim knew he couldn't afford to alienate anyone just yet. They were still too deep in the fight, and losing an ally—even a suspicious one—was a risk he couldn't take.
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As the night deepened, Haqim found himself alone on the rooftop of the safehouse, the cold breeze tugging at his cloak. Below him, the city of Krafta was a restless beast, with shadows crawling through every corner and alley.
His mind was in turmoil. Every instinct told him to trust no one, but his heart—the part of him that still cared for the people he had fought beside—resisted that cold logic.
A soft sound behind him made him turn. It was Farah.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, her voice quiet as she approached him.
Haqim shook his head, his gaze still on the city. "Too much on my mind."
Farah stood beside him, her eyes scanning the horizon. "You don't have to doubt Idris," she said softly. "I trust him."
Haqim let out a bitter laugh. "You say that, but you didn't see the way the Wolf smiled when he said Idris's name. It was like he knew something I didn't. And that terrifies me."
Farah sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the rooftop's ledge. "I get it. This war—it changes people. Makes you doubt everything, everyone. But you've always been good at reading people, Haqim. Trust that."
"I used to be," Haqim muttered, his eyes narrowing. "But now, I'm not sure anymore."
Farah turned to him, her expression serious. "Then trust me. I know Idris. He's not the mole. If you keep second-guessing everything, you'll lose the war before it's even started."
Haqim met her gaze, searching for some sign of deception, but found none. Farah's loyalty had never been in question, but even she could be wrong.
Finally, he sighed and turned back to the city. "Fine. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. But if he slips—just once—I won't hesitate to take him out."
Farah nodded. "That's all I ask."
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The next day brought no respite. The team gathered around the small, cluttered table in the safehouse, maps and notes scattered before them.
Haqim's plan was clear: "We hit the Syndicate. Hard and fast." He traced a line on the map, showing the route they would take to intercept the next shipment.
"We can't afford to be careful anymore," Haqim continued. "Faizan's power comes from his network. If we start chipping away at that, we can force him out into the open."
Idris, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the briefing, finally spoke up. "And what about the Wolf? He'll be expecting us to strike back."
Haqim's eyes darkened. "Let him expect it. This time, we'll be ready."