As they approached the house, Ayman stopped abruptly, pointing toward their target. "That’s it," he whispered. "You see the house over there? The big one with the expensive car in the driveway? That’s where we’re going. But first, look at the house next to it—it’s still under construction. We can use it to sneak in."

Nadir glanced at the unfinished building, nodding. "Yeah, that could work. What’s the plan?"

Ayman motioned toward the crates piled up at the back of the construction site. "We use those crates to climb up to the second floor, cross the rooftop, and jump over to the target house. From there, we’ll find a way in."

They moved cautiously, sticking to the shadows. The air was cool, and the faint hum of distant cars filled the silence. Ayman led the way, keeping his head low and gesturing for Nadir to follow. As they reached the crates, Ayman inspected them quickly.

"These should hold," he muttered, stacking a smaller crate on top of a larger one. He tested it by pressing down with his foot, ensuring it wouldn’t collapse under their weight. Satisfied, he started climbing.

The wood creaked under him, but it held firm. Ayman reached the top of the pile and stretched out his hand to Nadir. "Come on, your turn."

Nadir hesitated for a moment before gripping Ayman’s hand and pulling himself up. Together, they scaled the ledge of the unfinished house, climbing onto the first floor.

From there, Ayman pointed to the scaffolding along the side of the building. "We climb that to get to the second floor. Careful, though—it looks unstable."

They began their ascent, each movement calculated and cautious. The scaffolding swayed slightly with their weight, but they pressed on, the target house growing closer. Ayman reached the top first, pulling himself onto the flat concrete rooftop of the unfinished house.

As Nadir joined him, Ayman suddenly paused, leaning against the edge of the roof. "Wait a second," he said, his voice low.

"What’s up?" Nadir asked, crouching next to him.

"Farid..." Ayman hesitated, his mind racing. "Does Farid have a brother? I mean, another brother?"

Nadir frowned, clearly caught off guard. "What? No, man. I’ve known Farid for years. I used to buy from him—you know, weed and other stuff. He’s a good smuggler, always reliable. I’ve never heard of him having another brother. He’s got one brother, sure, but that guy’s been in jail for years. Murdered his wife or something."

Ayman nodded slowly, his thoughts tangled. "Yeah, I know about that. My brother told me the same story. But listen, my brother also told me something else. He said Farid has another brother—a different one. That’s how my brother knew about me going with them to attack the other gang. His so-called brother called him three days ago and tipped him off. What if this brother knows about our plan too?"

Nadir looked uneasy, shaking his head. "I don’t know, man. I’ve never heard about any other brother. Farid’s got a sister, though. She’s a teacher or something, but another brother? Nah. The one he’s got has been locked up for years."

Ayman rubbed the back of his neck, his anxiety growing. "I don’t like this. What if something goes wrong? What if someone’s watching us right now?"

Nadir placed a hand on Ayman’s shoulder. "Relax, bro. Don’t psych yourself out. It’s just nerves. We’ll be fine. Look, we’re almost there. We jump to that rooftop, climb down, and we’re in. Easy."

Ayman took a deep breath, nodding as he pushed his doubts aside. "Yeah, okay. No problem. Let’s do this."

Together, they moved to the edge of the rooftop. Ayman jumped first, landing with a soft thud on the roof of the target house. Nadir followed closely, and the two of them crouched low, peering over the edge as they prepared for the final part of their plan.

From their vantage point on the rooftop, Ayman and Nadir crouched low, their eyes locked on the house below. The man they had been waiting for emerged at last, accompanied by a woman who was unlike anyone Ayman had ever seen in their poor neighborhood.

She was stunning, with long, sleek hair cascading over her shoulders. Her clothes were designer—clean, sharp lines that spoke of money and power. Her heels clicked softly on the pavement as she walked beside the man, her posture confident, her movements graceful. Gold jewelry glinted under the faint glow of the streetlights, and her perfume seemed to linger in the air even from this distance.

The man, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, spoke to her, his voice carrying faintly in the still night. "Tonight’s going to be a great party," he said with a smug grin, opening the car door for her. She smiled, her perfectly painted lips curving as she slid into the passenger seat.

He got in after her, revving the engine of his expensive car. Its sleek black body gleamed like a panther under the moonlight, and the sound of the engine purred as they drove off into the night.

Ayman exhaled sharply, nudging Nadir. "Look at that woman, man. She’s out of this world. Did you see her?"

Nadir nodded, his mouth slightly open. "Yeah, dude. And that car? That’s no joke. This guy is seriously loaded. What the hell is he even doing in this neighborhood?"

"I’ve been wondering the same thing," Ayman said, shaking his head. "But whatever. Let’s go. He’s gone now, and he’s probably going to be out for hours. We need to move before he comes back."

"You think he’s staying out all night?" Nadir asked, his voice laced with doubt.

"At least until morning," Ayman replied confidently. "He’s not coming back anytime soon. We’ve got plenty of time to search the house. But remember—if there’s no money, we don’t take anything. Not even a TV. Nothing. If he comes back and notices anything missing, he’ll call the police, and then Farid will know about this and hunt us down. We can’t afford that. We’re only here for the cash. If we find it, we take it and leave for Italy immediately."

Nadir nodded firmly. "Got it. No money, no problem. Let’s do this."

They climbed carefully from their rooftop to the next, using the narrow ledges and beams for support. Moving like shadows, they crossed to the target house, careful to stay out of sight. Reaching the roof of the target house, they paused briefly to steady their breaths.

Ayman peered over the edge, scanning the surroundings. "All clear," he whispered, motioning for Nadir to follow.

They descended quietly, their footsteps soft on the outer stairs leading to the house. Ayman reached the back door first, pulling a small crowbar from his jacket. He inserted it into the doorframe and applied pressure until the lock gave with a soft crack.

"Easy," he murmured as he eased the door open.

Inside, the house was eerily silent. The scent of polished wood and leather lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the dusty streets outside. They stepped cautiously into the living room, their eyes scanning for cameras or alarms. There were none.

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The house was furnished with expensive taste—sleek, modern furniture, abstract art on the walls, and a large flat-screen TV dominating one side of the room. Nadir whistled softly, his eyes wide.

"Man, this guy is living large," he said under his breath.

"Focus," Ayman hissed, already moving toward the hallway.

They split up, searching room by room. The house seemed normal—no safes in plain sight, no obvious places to stash large amounts of cash. As they moved upstairs, Ayman’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Still, he pressed on, determined. "Check the closets, the drawers, anything that might have money," he whispered to Nadir.

Nadir nodded, opening a cabinet and rummaging quietly. The house was theirs, for now, but every second felt like borrowed time.

As they crept through the house, their search finally brought them to a closed wardrobe in one of the bedrooms. Nadir opened it cautiously, revealing nothing out of the ordinary at first—just neatly hung clothes and shelves. But something caught Ayman’s eye at the back of the closet: a metal door embedded in the wood.

“Wait, wait,” Ayman said, squinting in disbelief. He pushed some clothes aside, revealing the small safe. “Look at this. What? There’s a safe in here!”

Nadir stepped closer, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “No way! Jackpot, man. This is it!”

They crouched near the safe, inspecting it. It was a simple design, not the kind with a complicated number dial, but one that required a physical key.

“It’s just a regular safe,” Ayman muttered, frowning. “No code or anything. We just need the key.”

“Okay, where would he hide the key?” Nadir whispered, already glancing around the room.

They checked the drawers, behind the wardrobe, and even under the mattress. Finally, Nadir got on his knees and reached under the bed. His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. He pulled it out—a small, ordinary key.

Nadir burst out laughing. “Dude, look at this. The key was under the bed! What a genius hiding spot.”

Ayman shook his head, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? He hid the key to his safe under the bed in the same room with the safe. That’s like the first place anyone would look!”

Nadir grinned, waving the key in the air. “Hey, let’s not complain about his brilliance. Lucky for us, right?”

They both laughed softly, their nerves easing for a moment. But as Nadir approached the safe, Ayman’s smile faded.

“Wait,” Ayman said, his voice low. “This is weird. Who leaves the key to their safe in the house, under the bed, where anyone can find it? If he’s keeping something valuable in here, shouldn’t he take the key with him?”

“Who cares, man?” Nadir replied impatiently. “Maybe he’s just careless. Let’s open it and see what’s inside.”

Reluctantly, Ayman nodded. Nadir slid the key into the lock and turned it. The safe opened with a soft click, and they both leaned in, expecting to see stacks of cash or valuable items.

Instead, they found papers. A stack of old, yellowed documents with strange writing on them, symbols and characters that neither of them could decipher.

“What the hell?” Nadir said, pulling out one of the papers. “Where’s the money?”

Ayman picked up another sheet, frowning deeply. “This… this isn’t even in Arabic. Is it French?”

“No,” Nadir replied, his face pale. “It’s not French. It’s something else. Something…”

His voice trailed off as he stared at the papers, his hands trembling slightly. Ayman noticed and grabbed his shoulder. “What? What is it? Do you recognize this language?”

Nadir hesitated, his breathing quickening. “We need to leave,” he whispered.

“What?” Ayman said, his frustration rising. “No! What is this? What does it say? Where’s the money?”

“There’s no money!” Nadir snapped, his voice almost breaking. “We need to go. Right now.”

“But why?” Ayman pressed, shaking one of the papers. “What’s this language? Why are you so scared?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Nadir hissed, his eyes darting around the room as if someone was watching them. “We’ve messed up. This isn’t normal.

This isn’t just some random safe. Please, let’s go before it’s too late.”

Ayman stared at him, bewildered. Nadir was visibly shaking now, his face pale as he stuffed the papers back into the safe. Something was wrong—terribly wrong—and Nadir knew what it was but wouldn’t say.

Reluctantly, Ayman nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

They closed the safe and left the room quickly, their earlier confidence replaced by a growing sense of dread. Whatever they had stumbled upon, it was clear that it was something far more dangerous than they had anticipated.

As Ayman and Nadir hurriedly shut the room's door, Nadir's hands were trembling. His voice was a whisper, but the urgency in it was palpable.

“This language,” he stammered, “it’s not Arabic, not French, not English. It’s not even Romanic. This is…”

Before he could finish, a deep, cold voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Stop.”

They froze. Slowly, they turned to see a man standing in the doorway. He was dressed entirely in black—a sharp suit, a long coat, gloves, and a wide-brimmed hat that cast shadows over most of his face. Only his piercing eyes were visible, glinting with an unsettling calm. In his gloved hand, he held a pistol with a silencer attached to it, pointed directly at them.

Nadir raised his hands instinctively, his voice quivering. “Please… don’t shoot.”

Before Ayman, in shock, said, "A gun?" and before he could react, a second man emerged silently from the shadows behind him. With a swift, brutal motion, he struck Ayman on the back of the head. The room spun as Ayman fell to the floor, his vision blurring.

Nadir screamed, “No! Please! Don’t hurt him!”

The first man in black stepped forward, his movements eerily deliberate. Without saying a word, he motioned for the second man to grab Nadir.

“No! Wait!” Nadir pleaded, his voice cracking as the second man seized him and began dragging him toward another room.

Ayman, struggling to stay conscious, saw Nadir being pulled away. He tried to push himself up, but his body wouldn’t respond. Through the haze, he could hear Nadir’s desperate voice fading into the distance.

“Please! Don’t do this! I’ll do anything! Just—”

The door slammed shut.

Ayman lay there, gasping, as silence enveloped the house. Then, faintly at first, he heard sirens.

“Police?” he muttered weakly, trying to make sense of the chaos.

The sound grew louder, accompanied by voices shouting from outside. Ayman’s heart raced. Were they here for him?

The front door burst open, and heavy boots stomped through the house. Ayman, still on the floor, felt rough hands grab his arms and hoist him up.

“We’ve got him!” a voice barked.

“No, wait—” Ayman tried to explain, but his words were drowned out by the commotion.

The officers restrained him, cuffing his hands tightly behind his back.

They marched him out of the house and into the flashing blue lights of the waiting police cars.

As he was shoved into the back seat, Ayman’s mind raced. “Where’s Nadir?” he demanded, but the officers ignored him, slamming the car door shut.

Through the window, he caught one last glimpse of the house. In a moment, he thought he saw the two men in black, standing silently in the shadows. Their eyes seemed to follow him as the car drove away.

Ayman’s world collapsed. They were too late. Nadir was gone. The cops, oblivious to the men in black and the real danger, seized him roughly, taking him to the police station, and what about Nadir's fate?

He was gone. No trace of him. No one seemed to care about his disappearance. To them, Ayman was just another petty criminal caught in the act.

But Ayman knew the truth. Whatever was in that safe, whatever language was on those papers, it had brought something far more dangerous than the police. Something that had taken his friend—and left him with a growing sense of dread that he would never escape.