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The address Decklan gave you was supposed to be vacant. In and out, no witnesses, clean retrieval. It isn't vacant. The floorboard groans under your boot and down the dark hallway, something shifts. A light flicks on under a closed door. She's home. She's awake. And now you're standing in her living room with no cover story and no backup. Decklan's phone goes straight to voicemail. Brooke moved in last week. Nobody updated the file. Now she's between you and the exit, sharp-tongued and already suspicious, and the item you came for is somewhere in this house she now calls hers. Ok