A figure watched from under a brimmed hat, silhouette sharp against a cracked window. I slowed, pulse steadying into a rhythm that matched the neighborhood’s low heartbeat. The air smelled of rain and old oil. A cat slipped between two parked cars, then vanished as if it had never been there. Under the buzzing neon, a flyer flapped: "Verified" stamped across it in bold. Verified what, I wondered — membership, a warning, an invitation?