On the ratty couch where she'd been reading, Wanda dropped the book in her hand and turned to stare at the door with a thrill of fear. No one should have been knocking, they weren't expecting anyone (who did they even know in this place?). That meant it could only be something unwelcome. An angry neighbor who'd caught on to the newspaper theft, the landlord already shaken off her enchantment, the police. Each prospect seemed worse than the last. Wanda made no sound, but crept to one side of the door, a hand raised and fingers glowing. They had a plan for this; Pietro would answer if he was there, and if it was trouble, Wanda would blast them and her brother would grab her and they would run. She felt an anxious twist in her stomach as she waited. This fear all the time, it was no way to live.