The spring catch was gone.
Bram felt the service door once with the narrow lever, then put the tool away. A new lock sat above the old hole, its brass plate bright against weathered iron. Behind him, Eli heard Kellan stop the light frame before its wheel could click against the curb.
They had come before the freight quarter fully woke. The street smelled of cold ash and wet sacks. Tessa waited at the next turn with the small medical bag; Juno watched the far end of the lane. None of them had mistaken Bram’s old knowledge for a present key. Seeing the changed lock still made the morning feel shorter.
“Other entry?” Eli whispered.
“Laundry hatch. Inside court.”
“Can we reach it?”
“Not from here without crossing the front.”
Eli looked up at the narrow windows. No movement. No cooking smoke from the kitchen flue. A holding site should have made some sound, even this early: a bucket dragged, a complaint, a guard regretting the weather.
