Ren noticed something was going on near the gate of the safe zone.
Even from a distance, it was obvious. Too many military personnel. Too many vehicles. Too much noise for it to be a normal inspection day.
He crouched behind a broken concrete slab and narrowed his eyes.
"This is my best shot," he muttered.
Normally, getting inside the safe zone as a man was close to impossible. If you were lucky, you got dragged in as cheap labor. If you were unlucky, you never got in at all. The only men who entered without problems were cooks or prostitutes.
Ren grimaced.
"My cooking is absolute garbage," he whispered.
That left only one option, and he was not desperate enough for that. Yet.
He adjusted his torn jacket and slowly made his way closer to the gate, blending into the movement of refugees and workers. Soldiers shouted orders. Metal gates creaked open and shut. People were searched, questioned, sometimes dragged away.
Ren waited.
He always waited.
Then he saw her.
