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“No ma'am.” He shakes his head firmly. “Just closed the door. Thought maybe you forgot.”

“I didn't.”

Mr. Harrison gives a small grunt. “That's what I figured.”

Alexei steps forward. “Did you notice anyone around the building?”

Mr. Harrison looks him over before answering. “No. Doesn't mean nobody was here. Just means I didn't see them.”

Alexei nods once. “Thank you.”

The older man glances between all of us before returning his attention to me. “You call me if you need anything. Alright?”

The concern in his voice leaves a lump in my throat. “I will.”

He pats my shoulder. “Good.”

A few minutes later, we're standing outside my apartment door. The hallway feels strangely quiet. My keys tremble in my hand, and I hate that Alexei notices. I hate even more that he gently removes the keyring from my fingers.

“I'll open it,” he says.

“I can open my own door.”

“You can.”

He says it so simply that any argument dies before it reaches my mouth.

“Wait.” Viktor steps forward.

Everyone pauses. Viktor studies the lock, the frame, and the hinges before turning toward Luka.

“You first.”

Luka nods, and my apartment door swings inward.

I find myself holding my breath while Luka disappears inside. Every second feels longer than the one before it. The hallway remains silent except for the distant hum of an air-conditioning unit somewhere downstairs.

Finally, his voice carries back toward us. “Clear.”

Only then does Viktor motion for us to move forward.

I step through the doorway and know somebody was here. Not because the apartment is destroyed or furniture has been overturned. Nothing dramatic greets me when I enter. The problem is harder to explain than that. Home no longer feels like home.

I stop just inside the entrance and slowly look around. The living room appears normal. The couch remains where it belongs. The television sits untouched. The framed photographs on the bookshelf still line up exactly the way I left them.

Yet tiny details bother me. A throw blanket hangs differently across the arm of the couch. One kitchen chair sits farther away from the table than usual. A cabinet door hasn't been fully closed. The changes are small, almost insignificant, but I see them.

Alexei nods once.

Luka and Viktor move through the apartment, checking windows and doors while I continue farther inside. With every room I pass, the knot in my stomach gets a little tighter. The living room looks normal. So does the kitchen. The bathroom appears untouched, too.

Then I reach my bedroom, and all the air leaves my lungs.

Every drawer in my dresser stands open. Clothes cover the floor. The contents of my nightstand have been dumped across the bed. The small basket where I keep chargers, receipts, and random odds and ends lies overturned near the closet.

All I can do is stare. Seeing my belongings scattered across the room feels far worse than finding an open door. This isn't just a break-in. Somebody stood in my bedroom and picked through pieces of my life.

Alexei appears beside me. His eyes sweep across the room, taking in every open drawer and every piece of clothing scattered across the floor. The muscle in his jaw jumps.