Then another.
Footsteps approached from inside—slow, deliberate. The door opened just a few inches, held by a chain. A man stood there, mid-forties, expression neutral in a way that felt practiced.
“Can I help you?”
Avery kept his voice calm. “We received a call from this address. Just checking that everything’s alright.”
The man didn’t hesitate. “Must be a mistake.”
Avery’s eyes flicked past him, catching a glimpse of the interior—dim, tidy, controlled.
“Mind if I come in and confirm that?” he asked.
A pause this time.
Small.
But real.
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