Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMD5GB92XY57S35K6Y6SXN

The distinctive green neon sign above the entrance flickered as Aurora Carter pushed open the heavy wooden door, a wave of warm air and the low murmur of conversation washing over her. The Raven's Nest never changed, its dimly lit interior a welcome respite from the cold London evening. She made her way to the bar, her boots sticking slightly to the worn floorboards. Silas Blackwood looked up from wiping down the polished oak, his hazel eyes crinkling in surprise. "Aurora! Haven't seen you in ages. How's the delivery gig treating you?" His neatly trimmed beard, matching his grey-streaked auburn hair, twitched with a smile. Rory shrugged out of her leather jacket, draping it over the back of a stool. "Can't complain. Yu-Fei keeps me busy." She ran a hand through her straight shoulder-length black hair. "I'll have the usual." Silas nodded, reaching for a glass. As he poured her a pint of ale, his signet ring caught the light, glinting silver. He slid the drink across to her. "On the house. It's been too long." She took a sip, savoring the familiar bitterness. "I know. Life gets in the way." Her bright blue eyes roamed over the old maps and black-and-white photographs covering the walls. This place held so many memories. The door creaked open again and Rory's heart stuttered. The man who entered was taller than she remembered, broader through the shoulders. His dark hair was longer, too, curling over the collar of his coat. But those eyes, one blue, one green, were unmistakable. "Finn Gallagher," she breathed. He scanned the room and his gaze locked on hers. A smile broke across his face, a mix of surprise and something tentative. Uncertain. He wove through the tables towards her. "Rory. I'll be damned. What are you doing here?" His Irish lilt was just the same, warm and rich. "I could ask you the same thing." She willed her pulse to steady. "Thought you were off chasing adventure on the high seas." Finn chuckled, the sound low and wry. "Turns out adventure wasn't all it's cracked up to be." He nodded to Silas. "A whiskey, neat." Silas poured the drink, his expression unreadable. He set it before Finn with a quiet, "This one's on me too. Any friend of Rory's." Finn tossed back the shot, hissing through his teeth. As he set the glass down, his sleeve rode up, revealing the tail end of a tattoo. Black ink, stark against his skin. Rory's fingers itched to trace the design, to explore this new territory of him. "I'm surprised to see you, is all," she said, trying to fill the silence. "Last I heard you were crewing a ship out of Dublin." "Aye, well. Even the best laid plans, and all that." He drummed his fingers on the bar, a staccato beat. "Turns out I'm not cut out for a life on the waves. The solitude got to me." Rory arched a brow. "Solitude? On a ship full of sailors?" He shot her a wry look. "You'd be surprised. Plenty of time to think out there under all that sky." His mismatched gaze turned distant. "Too much time, maybe." "And what were you thinking about?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. Finn held her stare, a lifetime of history crackling between them. "The past. Things I left behind." His throat worked. "People." The weight of those words hung in the air. People. Like her. Left behind without a backward glance while he chased the horizon. She should be angry. Indignant. But all she felt was a hollow ache, a splinter wedged beneath her ribs. She reached for her drink, needing something to do with her hands. But Silas was there, topping off her ale, his keen gaze flicking between them. She'd forgotten how the old spymaster never missed a trick. Finn cleared his throat, shattering the moment. "Listen, I actually had a drink with your Da a few weeks back. He's worried about you, love. We all are." Rory stiffened. "Worried? About what?" "You. This life you're leading. Bouncing from job to job, living above a bar..." He waved a hand, encompassing the dimly lit room. "It's not what any of us wanted for you." The words stung, a slap she hadn't braced for. She stood abruptly, the legs of her stool scraping against the floor. "What any of you wanted. Right. Because my wants don't factor into it at all, do they?" "Rory, come on. Don't be like that." Finn reached for her but she stepped back, out of range. "No. You don't get to waltz back in here after two years and presume to know what's best for me. That ship sailed, Finn. You made your choice." His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping. "I made a mistake. Is that what you want to hear? That I was an idiot to leave? That I've regretted it every day since?" "That's not - " She broke off, shaking her head. "God. I can't do this. Not here. Not now." She grabbed her jacket, shrugging into it blindly, her vision blurring. She needed air. Space. Distance from the confusing tangle of emotions Finn's presence stirred up. Silas caught her eye as she turned to go, concern etched in the lines of his face. She shook her head, a minute jerk, and he let her go, understanding without words. That was the beauty of the Spymaster. Always watching. Always knowing. The cold night air hit her like a slap as she escaped the bar, sucking in deep lungfuls, trying to calm her racing heart. She didn't know what just happened, but she knew one thing for certain. Finn Gallagher was back. And nothing would ever be the same again.