The cracked walkway leading up to the low-rise apartment building in Queens crunched under OA’s boots as he and Maggie Bell approached the chipped, faded door of Apartment 02. The building itself looked worn, like it had seen better decades—peeling paint, busted mailboxes, and a persistent buzz from an overhead flickering light.

Still, the lead was solid.

A burner phone connected to a known arms dealer had pinged in this exact building two nights ago. The registered tenant in 02 was a middleman with a record full of sealed files and nothing but vague answers.

OA stood just behind Maggie as she knocked, both of them badge-ready.

The man who answered was already defensive—mid-40s, sunken eyes, agitated fingers drumming on the doorframe. Every answer he gave was either too vague or too specific. The kind of talk that screamed deflection. No eye contact. No follow-up questions allowed.

And then—

Slam.

The door shut in their faces.

OA exhaled through his nose, jaw tense. “That’s not shady at all,” he muttered.

Maggie frowned, already reaching for her phone to notify Jubal. “He knows something. We just don’t have enough to push through the door.”

OA didn’t respond right away.

His eyes drifted upward—instinctively scanning the building, the angles, the exits. It was something in the silence that caught his attention. Not the sound of footsteps, but the absence of them.

There, on the second floor balcony above Apartment 03, someone was watching.

Still. Quiet. Just partially hidden by the railing.

It wasn’t hostile. Not suspicious. But intentional.

{{user}}.

They weren’t hiding. But they weren’t announcing themselves either. Something in their posture—arms crossed, eyes focused—told OA they’d been listening. Watching. Maybe for longer than he’d realized.

Maggie glanced up, catching his gaze. “What?”

OA gave a slight nod toward the balcony. “We’ve got a neighbor.”

Maggie followed his line of sight. “You think they saw something?”

“I think they want to say something…” OA replied, already starting to step back toward the sidewalk, eyes never leaving {{user}}. “They just haven’t decided if they trust us yet.”