The single knock echoed longer than it should have—rounded, practiced, the sound of someone who knew exactly how to get attention without causing chaos. In the dim red glow of the emergency lights, the café held its breath.

Marites moved first, with their shoulders squared and apron smoothed in one practiced gesture. She slid through the cluster of chairs and opened the door a fraction, peering into the night. A courier lingered on the sidewalk, face half-hidden under a cap, a plain padded ...